The boyband next door

Chapter One: There Are Three Things I Hate

There are three things I hate.

First, I hate surprises. I like knowing what’s coming—predictability is comforting. The unexpected just throws me off. I need structure, a plan, something I can follow step by step. Surprises? They make everything messy.

Second, I hate loud people. The ones who feel the need to talk over everyone else, who dominate a room with their noise. I’ve never understood the appeal. Why be so loud when there’s so much peace in silence?

And third, I hate boybands. The manufactured, cookie-cutter smiles, cheesy lyrics about love that always sound the same, and the hordes of screaming fans who act like these guys are gods walking among mortals. It’s all so fake, so superficial.

That’s why I was absolutely thrilled when a world-famous boyband moved into the house next door.

The first time I saw the moving trucks pull up, I didn’t think much of it. People move in and out all the time in our neighborhood. It’s the kind of place where families trade their first homes for bigger ones, or renters come and go after a few months. So, when I heard the rumble of the engine and saw the big white truck backing into the driveway of the house next door, I figured it was just another family relocating for work.

But then the cameras showed up. Huge cameras, followed by crews of people carrying sound equipment and lights. My mom was the one who broke the news while we were having dinner that night.

“Did you hear, Ethan? A boyband’s moving in next door.”

I paused mid-bite, fork hovering in the air. “What?”

“Yeah, Skyline or something like that. Apparently, they’re filming some sort of reality show for the next few months.”

I stared at her, trying to process. “Wait, the Skyline? The one with a million fans and songs on the radio every five minutes?”

“That’s the one,” she said, cutting into her chicken like she hadn’t just dropped a bombshell on my otherwise quiet life.

I groaned and let my fork fall onto my plate. "You have got to be kidding me."

Mom laughed, clearly amused by my reaction. “I thought you’d be excited. They’re your age, aren’t they? You might get along.”

I gave her a look. “Mom, I don’t think boybands and I exactly run in the same circles.”

She shrugged. “Maybe they’ll surprise you.”

I doubted that. A boyband moving in next door was about the worst possible thing that could happen. My life was quiet. Boring, sure, but I liked it that way. I didn’t need a bunch of teenage pop stars and their over-the-top lifestyle messing with my routine.

The next morning, I woke up to chaos. There were at least three black SUVs parked in front of the house, along with more camera crews and what looked like security. People were setting up equipment on the lawn, and there was a constant buzz of activity. I tried to ignore it as best I could and went about my usual morning routine—brushing my teeth, checking my phone, and scrolling through Instagram.

My best friend Elijah had already texted me about the new neighbors.

Elijah: Dude, you’re so lucky. Jayden Ryder is like a god.

I rolled my eyes. Me: Who?

Elijah: Are you serious? He’s the lead singer of Skyline. Hottest guy alive.

Me: Don’t care.

Elijah: Okay, Mr. Grumpy. Let me know if you catch a glimpse of him shirtless.

I tossed my phone onto my bed with a sigh. Great, even Elijah was buying into the hype. I was planning to spend the day avoiding the madness outside, but my mom had other ideas.

“Ethan, can you run to the store for me? We’re out of milk.”

I groaned internally. “Can’t you go?”

“I’m working today, remember?” She grabbed her purse and keys, flashing me an apologetic smile. “It’ll only take ten minutes. Plus, you might get a peek at your famous neighbors.”

I gave her a flat look. “Not a selling point.”

She laughed as she headed out the door, leaving me no choice but to throw on some clothes and make the short walk to the corner store. I grabbed my hoodie—perfect for keeping a low profile—and headed outside, hoping to slip by unnoticed.

As I crossed the lawn and approached the sidewalk, I heard voices. Not the usual soft murmur of people talking, but loud, over-enthusiastic shouting.

“There he is! Over there!”

I turned my head just in time to see a group of teenage girls pressed up against the fence of the house next door, pointing and screaming as if the world was ending. My heart sank. They were definitely screaming at the boyband.

Sure enough, as I walked past the house, I spotted them. The members of Skyline, all five of them, lounging around the driveway while the camera crew set up shots. And right in the middle, holding court like he owned the place, was Jayden Ryder. I recognized him from the posters in every store window and the random videos that popped up on my feed despite my best efforts to avoid them. He had the kind of face that was hard to ignore—sharp jawline, messy dark hair, and this easy confidence that radiated from him even when he wasn’t doing anything.

I kept my head down and walked faster, not wanting to draw any attention. I was almost past the house when I heard a voice call out.

“Hey, you!”

I froze, cringing inwardly. No way. Not me. Please, not me.

Reluctantly, I turned around, and there he was—Jayden Ryder, grinning like he’d just won something. He jogged over to where I stood, hands in my hoodie pockets, trying to pretend like I wasn’t on the verge of dying from embarrassment.

“You live next door, right?” he asked, sounding way too casual for someone who had millions of fans screaming his name.

“Uh, yeah,” I muttered. “Unfortunately.”

He laughed. “What’s your name?”

“Ethan.”

“Cool, I’m Jayden.” He offered me his hand, and for a moment, I stared at it like it was a foreign object. Why was he introducing himself to me? Was this part of some reality show prank? Reluctantly, I shook his hand, feeling the stares of the camera crew and the fangirls burning into me.

“So, Ethan,” Jayden said, his grin widening, “what’s it like living next to a boyband?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Loud.”

Jayden chuckled, completely unfazed by my lack of enthusiasm. “Yeah, I guess we can be a bit much.”

“Understatement of the year,” I muttered, glancing at the camera that was still pointed in our direction.

Jayden followed my gaze and smiled. “Don’t worry, they’re not recording. Just setting up.”

“Great,” I said, deadpan. “I’d hate to be the next reality show star.”

He laughed again, and I couldn’t help but notice how genuine it sounded. For a second, I thought maybe he wasn’t as obnoxious as I assumed. Maybe. But before I could say anything else, a voice called out from behind him.

“Jayden! We need you for the next shot.”

He turned, waving at the director, then glanced back at me. “I guess that’s my cue. See you around, Ethan.”

I watched him jog back toward the house, effortlessly charming the cameras as he went. As soon as he was out of sight, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

Falling for the boyband next door? Yeah, not happening.