The Boy Next Door || Harry Styles

chapter four. {harry}

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The small guitar pick felt light between my fingers as I observed it in the dim light. It made me smile because it reminded me of the events of today. It reminded me of her. Even though I was unsuccessful in finding out her real name, I was certain I would be seeing her a lot more.  There was something about her. I swear, I'd seen her eyes before. They were deep and captivating, just like her personality. An urgency to learn everything about her overcame me the second I laid eyes on her, but an odd sense of deja vu clouded my thoughts. I took one last look at the guitar pick before setting it down on my side table and shutting off the light. Eventually, I succumbed to the darkness and dreamt about the girl and her voice.

* * *

"Harry! I'm leaving now and I'll be home late! There's food in the fridge!" The slam of a door ripped my body from its peaceful slumber. Grunting at the obvious effects of jet lag, I reluctantly dragged myself out of bed. A bright light streamed through my balcony door and I wasn't surprised to see that it was almost noon.

A knock came to the door and I was forced to put on some decent clothing. After pulling on some grey joggers, I walked downstairs to open the door, secretly hoping it was the girl from yesterday.

"Mr. Styles! It's nice to see you back in town." Disappointment threatened to show on my features, but I smiled instead. It was Connor, the mailman.

"It's nice to be back!" Connor handed me a form and I signed line at the bottom.

"It's a shipment of four boxes and a case. Would you mind helping me out? This old back can't handle much of what it used to." I laughed and reassured him that it was no hassle. We unloaded the boxes in no time and as I was bending down to place the fourth box on the floor, Connor laid a guitar case on the ground.

"Have a beautiful day, Mr. Styles." He bowed before shuffling out the door. As he closed the door shut behind him, I took notice of the boxes. All four were marked as fragile and only had my address on it. There was no return location or name.

I shifted my focus to the guitar case and wondered who had sent it. Gently removing the acoustic instrument, I observed the faded wood and familiar scent of the brass strings. It fit perfectly in my arms and I played out a few chords before my stomach started to growl. It was a sign that I needed to start my day.

* * *

Seating myself at an empty booth, I waited patiently for one of the cafe's servers to help me. My time was consumed by unintentionally eavesdropping on the conversation occurring in the booth behind me.

"Shh-i-pp-ing? What does that mean?" It was the voice of a little boy.

"It means when things get transported places." The sweet sound of her voice filled the cafe and I recognized it immediately. I continued to listen.

"And what does transported mean?" The boy's voice was muffled, he was probably speaking with a mouth full of food.

"Moving something from place to place." The girl spoke again.

"So what you're trying to say is that you think your stuff got lost from place to place?" She laughed as the boy tried to connect the dots. I couldn't help but chuckle to myself.

"Something like that." Before I could stand up, I noticed the waitress lingering by my booth.

"I'm sorry, sir. How can I help you today?" She had piercing blue eyes and I could tell she was nervous.

"Oh, just the usual." I removed my black sunglasses from my head and set them on the table as the woman walked away. Just as she had left, she was back within seconds.