That Boy Next Door

 “Mum, I’m home!” I call, throwing my keys on the table.

I had been gone for three weeks on vacation in Ireland visiting my best guy friend, Hamish. With flaming red hair and brilliant green eyes, Hamish definitely looked the part of a stereotypical Irishman. He had been my guide through the beautiful green countrysides and the old castle ruins. It had been one of the best trips I had ever taken. And having an extremely attractive Irish guide with a thick accent wasn’t a bad bonus at all.

 My mum didn’t answer, so I figure she is out shopping. After all, we had just bought this house last week, and mum is trying to decorate it like a House and Home magazine or something.

My bags are still in the car but I don’t really feel like going to get it. I’m exhausted from scourging the rolling green Irish hills with Hamish. Actually, I 'm just about to lie down on the sofa for a quick nap when the doorbell rings.

Five minutes back home, and you still don't get a rest, I think humourlessly. Welcome home, Kieran.

With a sigh of resignation, I get up to open the door. And when I do, I'm surprised to see a moderately tall girl with luscious dark hair and sparkling brown eyes that I’m sure I’ve never seen. She is holding a pie covered in foil, and a wide smile is on her friendly face.

“Hello,” she says, extending her free hand. “I’m Gemma Styles, aren’t you Kieran Rossi?” When I nod disbelievingly, she plows on. “May I come in for a minute?”

 I’m taken aback by her request, but I open the door and let her in. Gemma gives me a brilliant smile as she walks past, and I shut the door behind her in awe.

Styles, I think, my mind numb. Gemma Styles. Harry Styles’s sister... What's going on...?

“So, you’re probably wondering why I dropped by,” says Gemma conversationally, reading my mind. She sets the pie down on our new kitchen table with a smile.

 “Well, yes,” I say, my face flushing. She chuckles and tosses her hair over her shoulder.

"You might know my little brother, Harry Styles,” she says. “He’s just came back from tour, and we wanted to spend some family time together before he leaves again. Problem is, fans are always lined up outside our house. And that’s just what Harry wants a break from. So we rented this house, and we’ll be staying here for a few weeks. I saw the moving truck, and decided it would be good to get to know each other! Plus it might’ve been a little bit of a shock to see Harry flanked by a ton of security out of your bedroom window,” Gemma says, chuckling a bit. I stare at her, unable to comprehend what she’s saying. Harry Styles, my neighbor?

 “Anyway, it would be appreciated if you didn’t tell anyone,” she continues. “We just want a break.”   

   “Are you serious?,” I ask,open-mouthed. Is this some kind of cruel joke?

I can’t help it, but it seems so ridiculous. I mean… Harry's in one of the most popular boy bands in the world… This doesn’t happen to girls like Kieran Rossi, who lives down Sheckler Lane in the English countryside.

 Gemma laughs, exposing her brilliant white teeth. “Yes of course! I’ve already chatted with your mum, she seems lovely. Anyway, I can’t stay. Harry will be arriving any minute now.” Gemma leans is close, a mischievous smile on her face.  “He may be my little brother, and he may be the most irritating boy ever, but I do miss his curls!”

 She chuckles and gives me one last smile. “Enjoy the pie!” Gemma says, and then she’s gone.

I hear the door shut with a click, and I’m left alone in the kitchen, trying to digest the last five minutes of conversation.

  Harry Styles is my neighbor. Harry Edward Styles is my freaking neighbor.

And suddenly, I’m laughing like a maniac. It seems so… surreal.  After months and months of watching  Harry and his band practically take over the music industry, after weeks of seeing their faces everywhere, after endless days of hearing their catchy up beat music, one of the members decides to rent a house right next to mine. The chances are one and a million...

This is not happening. This is not happening,” I say out loud, pacing my living room. All tiredness I might have felt before Gemma came has vanished, replaced by excitement. I want to text all of my contacts, I want to brag to my friends, but I just can’t. It’s like my own little secret, and if I share it, I’ll have to share Harry.