The Girl Next Door

Prove It

I was standing in front of the cafe´, with my guitar on my chest, not moving. Three front windows were covered with 'Help wanted' papers. I needed the job, I needed the money, but to sing? In front of a crowd? My usual crowd would be Cat, Ana, an occasional bug, and my mom when she'd bring my loundry. I took one deep breath, grasping my guitar even tighter.

It's now or never.

"Hello?" my voice was quiet, and the place was empty. Maybe this won't be as bad as I thought.

"We're closed, kid." Kid? A kid with a voice at the least.

"I," I stuttered. Real nice way to prove my maturity. "I'm here for the job." I slowly walked to the guy standing at the bar.

"We already have a waitress."

"No, I'm a singer."

He was holding back laughter. "Sorry, kid." He turned around and walked away. Should this be the time when I tell him that Mr. Boyband thinks I'm good? My only chance to go home, and it's slipping away. Just peachy. 

My fingers strummed over my guitar as the guy slowly turned around. 

"But if I kiss you, will your mouth read this truth? Darling, how I miss you. Strawberries taste how lips do, and it’s not complete yet. Mustn’t get our feet wet, cos that leads to regret, diving in too soon. And I’ll owe it all to you, my little bird, my little bird." the words flew out of me, with a perfect melody following. 

"Wow, I'm not half bad." 

I smiled, the guy and I exchanging a long look. 

He finally sighed. "The hell with it, the job's yours." I squealed. Not very typical for me. "You work Monday and Wednesday afternoons, and Friday and Sunday evenings."

"I won't let you down, Mr.-"

"Newton. Justin Newton." He smiled, wiping a shot glass. I happily ran towards the door. "What's your name, kid?"

"Carter Arch, sir." I left the cafe´ with a giant smile on my face.

"So, how'd it go?" my mom asked as I enterd the house.

"Nothin' much... Except I got the job!" I hugged her for the first time in ages.

"That's great! Maybe now you'll have a reason to stay." 

"Mom, the only reason why I wanted the job in the first place was to get the money, so I could go back home." 

"But sweetie, this is your home." I was pretty much pissed by now.

"Yours, mom. This will never be my home." I climbed up the two sets of stairs to my room, three steps at a time. My guitar landed on the floor next to me as I hugged the pillow.

I looked up trough the skyline. "Somebody up there must really hate me." I threw the pillow in the corner. When I was mad, I'd usually go out for a walk to calm down, but here I wasn't willing to freeze while at it, so I sat on my balcony. 

I hated everything about this place; the full moon shining over a tiny creek, the lights of the city in the distance that looked like fireflies, the suprisingly fresh air, and especially the neighbours. I looked more closely to the house next to me, only to realise that Curly Boy's room is right across from mine.

"Fantasitc."  

He was laying on his giant bed, watching his flatscreen. I hid behind the door. Too late. He walked to his window, standing just under 15 feet away from me. 

"Hi!" he yelled.

"Go on, Styles. I'm not quite sure the entire neighbourhood heard you.

"How are you?"

"Not good, thanks to you." we pronounced each word both slowly and loudly.

"Great."

"How do you live with yourself?"

"I'm Harry. That's all I need, babe." 'babe'? He did not just call me babe?

"Well, Harry, you and yourself better go and have some quality alone time," I smiled, pursing my lips. "Sweetie." He came in closer, like he wanted to kiss me. I shut the door, completely uninteresed.

"Wait!"

"What?!" I slammed them open.

"Did you get the job?" he almost seemed like he cared.

"You'll just have to wait and see."