Look at Me
track #8: striking gold
“It’s gonna be a hit,” Todd proclaims, smiling widely. I hear him through my headphones, but even without them, I can tell from his expression that he likes the song. Beside him, Jorge gives us two thumbs up.
It’s Tuesday night, the sun is setting on the horizon, and we’ve just finished the song. It’s called “Your Broken Mug,” and in all my 22 years, I’ve never done anything better. It’s beautiful and melodic and resonant and heavy and light all at the same time. It makes me want to dance and scream and cry and run through a field of wheat, and I want to do it all with Niall beside me, holding my hand.
I can’t wait to play it for Candice. I can’t wait to send it to my mom and show her what I’ve done—what I’ve been able to do. I can’t wait to share it, and that’s how I know it’s good.
“It’s gonna be a hit!” Niall repeats, sliding his headphones off and hanging them up before pulling the strap of his guitar over his head. “It’s gonna be a hit, Min.”
“It’s gonna be a hit!” I echo, taking off my headphones too.
Guitar safely on the floor, Niall grabs my hand, pulling me up and sweeping me into his arms. He spins me out and pulls me back in. My arms wrap around his neck as he pulls me tight against him. Here, in the recording booth, it’s just the two of us, set afire by this moment, by this feeling. It’s just the two of us and our song, this thing we created together.
“You’re magic, Minna Locke,” he says right before he kisses me. “Bloody magic.”
He smiles as his lips meet mine, and I’m smiling right back. We don’t break apart until Jorge whistles at us through the window, and even then, Niall keeps his arms around me. He leans forward, brushing his forehead against mine, and winks.
“Pure magic,” he whispers.
No, I think as we walk from the studio hand in hand in search of dinner, it’s not me that’s magic. And it’s not him either, like I once thought. It’s both of us together, risking vulnerability so that we can make something so special. That’s the magic.
And when Niall touches me, I can feel it. That magic’s still there between us, and it’s not going away anytime soon. We’ll write another song, and another after that, and we’ll keep going until we’re exhausted. And then we’ll find some other magic in life.
That night, I can feel it. I didn’t come to Los Angeles expecting this, expecting this boy or this collaboration or these feelings, but now that I have it, I don’t know how to live without it.
It’s Tuesday night, the sun is setting on the horizon, and we’ve just finished the song. It’s called “Your Broken Mug,” and in all my 22 years, I’ve never done anything better. It’s beautiful and melodic and resonant and heavy and light all at the same time. It makes me want to dance and scream and cry and run through a field of wheat, and I want to do it all with Niall beside me, holding my hand.
I can’t wait to play it for Candice. I can’t wait to send it to my mom and show her what I’ve done—what I’ve been able to do. I can’t wait to share it, and that’s how I know it’s good.
“It’s gonna be a hit!” Niall repeats, sliding his headphones off and hanging them up before pulling the strap of his guitar over his head. “It’s gonna be a hit, Min.”
“It’s gonna be a hit!” I echo, taking off my headphones too.
Guitar safely on the floor, Niall grabs my hand, pulling me up and sweeping me into his arms. He spins me out and pulls me back in. My arms wrap around his neck as he pulls me tight against him. Here, in the recording booth, it’s just the two of us, set afire by this moment, by this feeling. It’s just the two of us and our song, this thing we created together.
“You’re magic, Minna Locke,” he says right before he kisses me. “Bloody magic.”
He smiles as his lips meet mine, and I’m smiling right back. We don’t break apart until Jorge whistles at us through the window, and even then, Niall keeps his arms around me. He leans forward, brushing his forehead against mine, and winks.
“Pure magic,” he whispers.
No, I think as we walk from the studio hand in hand in search of dinner, it’s not me that’s magic. And it’s not him either, like I once thought. It’s both of us together, risking vulnerability so that we can make something so special. That’s the magic.
And when Niall touches me, I can feel it. That magic’s still there between us, and it’s not going away anytime soon. We’ll write another song, and another after that, and we’ll keep going until we’re exhausted. And then we’ll find some other magic in life.
That night, I can feel it. I didn’t come to Los Angeles expecting this, expecting this boy or this collaboration or these feelings, but now that I have it, I don’t know how to live without it.