The Girl Next Door

I Don't Even Know What's Happening Anymore...

That night we fell asleep together. Just like every other night for the next three weeks or so. I guess I just got used to his bed. I guess I just got used to him. I got used to our early weekend morning talks and our late night confessions. There wasn’t anything romantic about it. Though, after everything, I can hardly call him just a friend.

“So, who was your first kiss?” he asked one Sunday as he was tracing lines on my arm with his fingers.

I budged. “Well, in seventh grade Charlie kissed me out of a dare.” I stopped on the thought of his name. It was just a stupid game but I couldn’t bring myself to forget about it. “But, I’d have to say my first kiss was on Tower Bridge in the middle of a traffic jam.” Actually, my first real kiss was on a hill in the summer, I thought but pushed it to the back of my mind along with everything that bothers me.

He knitted his eyebrows. “Me?”

“No. I kiss millions of people on that bridge every day.” I rolled my eyes. “You stole my first kiss you little shit!” I yelled and hit him on the shoulder.

“Ouch,” he yelped, “But that was like, last year.”

“I wasn’t in a rush to kiss anybody. I don’t get what’s the fuss about.” I shrugged my shoulders.

Then he slowly leaned into me and softly kissed me just to prove his point.

I kept my poker face on.

“Seriously?” he asked, frustrated. “A kiss is something special. That’s how you know someone likes you.” I drove his head back with my palm and he collapsed on the other side of the bed. 

And we’d just sit on the bed and ask each other questions. That stupid thought of the kiss last summer kept knocking on my mouth to get out, but I’d have to shove it back inside. A few times I even tried to talk about it, but either he or I would change the subject.

“Good morning, lovebirds!” A bright Irish accent yelled. Both Harry and I woke to a start. I was, as usually, sleeping on his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around me.

“Niall?!” we yelled in unison when we realised what was going on. Niall was crouching next to the bed and smirking.

“I see you had fun last night. Harry, mate, good job.” They looked at each other for a while.

I started saying, “Horan, I swear—” but Harry beat me to killing Niall. He jumped from the bed over me and landed flat on Niall like a pancake.

“How long—were you—standing—uh—there?” Harry asked between the slaps.

“Long enough,” Niall managed through the laughter.

I got out of bed and circling around them, went down to the kitchen. It was a lazy Saturday, which meant I don’t have UNI today. Staying at home all day, stuffing my face and watching the stupid weekend programme on TV it is! I took out some leftover pizza from last night out of the fridge and collapsed on the couch in front of the TV. A few minutes later came Niall and soon Harry, who was spitting out feathers. I don’t even want to know. Harry was all dressed up in his typical white baggy shirt, the sleeved rolled up with a safety pin, and the skinniest black skinny jeans on the planet. I wonder if he shops on the ‘thigh gap white girl’ section.

Niall’s face lit up when he saw the pizza.

“Uhm—can I?” he asked.

“Yeah, sure, stay for breakfast, whatever.” Harry said disinterestedly. Niall happily took a piece of pizza from the counter and muttered something like ‘Oh baby, it’s been so long. I love you,’ to it.