The Girl Next Door

Pardyyyyyy

He turned around and stared at the headlights of the truck coming right at him, as it was only 4 feet away from him. None of us moved. I was ready to go call the ambulance, but not ready to scream or to run towards him and tackle him and save his life like in a movie. I couldn’t even blink.

The truck was now at 3 feet, and he was still motionlessly looking towards it.

2 feet; still nothing.

1 foot; he turned his head towards me, taking one last look before death would win him over.

I finally found the strength to close my eyes. I couldn’t face this. He would be gone any moment now.

A few seconds have passed… And there was no crashing sound.

I opened my eyes.

The truck was stopped not even half a foot away from Harry.

He opened his eyes that were fully cloistered not half a second ago. He rubbed his hands all over his body to make sure he’s alive. The truck driver yelled something in a language my mother told me never to use. I facepalmed myself. And again, and again.

Harry smiled and gave me another ‘thumbs up’ as the driver honked the horn. He ran towards me and waived to the driver who showed him a specific finger.

I looked up and thought, “Why couldn’t the damn thing just run him over? Why God? Why do You hate me?”

I thought a lot about Charlie in the weeks that followed. I thought about what he said, how he said it, and tried to figure out why he said it. My brain was working on overdrive.

‘By the way, how does it feel to lie to your best friend?’

It felt terrible. It’s a secret I want her to know, but wasn’t really mine to share. I was dragged into this only because of my stupid address. It’s not like I had a choice. Right?

Every time we’d talk, every time she’d mention Harry, I had to lie. Lie to keep a secret I didn’t even care about. And I didn’t even care about the people who were involved in that secret. Except one… And it hurt so bad that he didn’t care for me.

Management made me a fake Twitter and Facebook and Instagram on which they posted cutesy stuff- which I, nor anyone in the right mind would write- like ‘Just today I realised how much that boy means to me. He’s the reason of my life.’ or ‘Happy 4 months/ 16 and a half weeks/ 1/3 of the year, baby. I love you.’  I would just laugh. Everyone else thought it was cute… And I just wished Charlie would feel a little bit jealous, hurt even. But he didn’t. And that’s what hurt me.

I would go to Harry’s house at least once a week to keep our ‘relationship’ up and running. He would usually watch a football game and I would sleep or steal food from his fridge. We didn’t even talk, and that’s when I actually liked him.

One day when I was finishing my caramel ‘Dairy Milk’, he grabbed my wrist on the way out.

He scratched his back with his free arm, “So, my birthday is on Friday-“

“What, 18 years of torturing the Earth’s population already?” I dissuaded.

He smirked, “19 actually, but good guess. Anyway, it’s this Friday and I’m having a party, and I would like you to come.” He smiled in the obnoxious way only he in the world could.

“Aren’t I your girlfriend? I mean, I’m bound to be there. Unless you want people thinking that ‘Harter’ is for some silly unknown reason fake.”