The Girl Next Door

Winter Wonderlands

The storm rolled in three days before it was predicted, cancelling any plans I had that involved with getting out of the house. I slightly jumped and burrito-ed myself deeply into my plush blanket as another wave of thunder pounded the sky. I closed my eyes in frustration and brought the cup with hot chocolate closer to my lips. With the thunderstorm and lightning and rain and unusually low December temperatures, I felt like I was back in London. I expected that Harry would jump on me in any second or come through the front door with Nando’s take away in hand.

The thunder shot again and I opened my eyes rapidly. I’m still in Split. I glanced out the window to the flooded streets and bare trees. On the windowsill, where I had sort of a mini garden that came with the place, was a single flower growing out of a clay pot. How can anything grow now?

I went back to my book- ‘The Fault in Our Stars’, a birthday present from mom. I guess after my dad died, I had a hard time letting him go- which I did- and she thought I needed help knowing other people are going through the same things- which I didn’t-, so she bought me that book. (Spoiler alert: Gus dies.)

It did get me thinking about dad, though. It’s been over six months since he’d died and I’ve barely had time to be sad about it in that time. That’s why all the mourning and breaking down and thinking and emptiness got to me now.

I never even got the time to say goodbye before he died. And then I sort of forget about it and it’s like he died again. And I didn’t even say goodbye. I missed him so hard it felt like Chernobyl. And mom missed him. And Jake missed him. And Clarisse the Stepmomster missed him. And all these people missed him. And it just got me thinking will anyone miss me like that when I’m gone.

And speaking of missing, Harry Styles was one person that I didn’t miss. And I was pretty sure he’d forgotten all about me by now as well. No calls, no messages, no words, no nothing. So, by the conclusion of a fairly normal person, there was no more us, no more Harter and no more Harrys in my life- except the Potter one but that’s another story.

I put the book down and stared out the window, through the rain and fog for a while. Doing nothing made me think about nothing which was a real hard job right now. I mostly thought about dad. If not dad then my finals. If not that then how are mom and Chris and Jake doing. And if not that I think about Harry. Not him as much as just the moments we shared. And I hated myself for that.

It was early December now, finals just around the corner. I was doing well at school since my only distractions were the bunch of idiots I call my friends.

For the first two and a half weeks when I got here a part of me kept thinking he’ll come back for me, that he didn’t give up on me. But he didn’t come back. So I gave up on him, along with us and everything that comes along with that mop of hair. Though, what Ana had said stayed in my head and sometimes I couldn’t help but think, Was I too much of a coward for simply letting go? And it wouldn’t even bother me that much if it wasn’t the exact same thing Harry said to me when I left. But then I’d shake my head and slap myself for thinking I was even supposed to care about someone who lied to me all along.

A week and a half before school finished for Christmas break, Ana and I decided to take a walk into town.

The place was already filled with stands and little shops for the winter holidays. The Christmas lights were on in the streets, giving the town a Winter Wonderland feeling. We went to a few stands and bought enough candy to last us the entire winter.

“We should do this more often,” I said as I crunched down the last of my candy-cane.

“Now that you’re here, we can.” She smiled. Suddenly her eyes focused on something behind me. She ran pass me and stopped in front of a street lamp.

“What is it?” I asked, walking slowly towards her.

“New Year’s concert thing,” she said as she scanned through the concert poster with her finger. Then she stopped and let out a squeal. She jumped up and down, vapour coming out of her mouth in the cold evening. I put my hand on her shoulders and calmed her down enough to stop jumping.

She took a deep breath. “Ed. Bloody. Sheeran. Is. Coming.” She pointed to the poster where underneath some local band the name was written in typewriter font.

Ed Sheeran

Next to it was an orange paw print.

She looked at me excitedly and we started jumping and screaming and squealing like the fangirl souls we are.

“Oh. My. God.” I managed, still jumping and shaking.

“I know.”

“He’ll. Be. Here. At. New. Year’s.”

“I know.”

I stopped jumping and grabbed her by the shoulders. “We have to go.”

“I know.”

I slapped myself a few times to calm down. Then I promised myself I’d go to that concert no matter what.

Yes, I’ve seen him live already. Yes, I’ve met him. Yes, I’ve talked to him. And yes, I have to go see him again.

Though, seeing Ed again would only remind me of him. He still owes me an Ed Sheeran concert from my birthday.

When I came home, there was an envelope shoved under the door. It said Carter Arch so I took it. I turned it around and saw that it was sealed with a little orange paw sticker.

“No way,” I said under my chin.

I opened the door while reading and entered my apartment. I scanned through the letter quickly;

Dear Carter,

As you may have heard, I’m having a concert in Split on New Year’s Eve.

I’d be more than happy if you were to join me.

Ed Sheeran.

Underneath that was his signature and a little cat doodle.

I screamed. Not just your regular Oh-my-God scream. It had the pitch of a fangirl and the volume of a person getting killed in a horror movie with a chainsaw.

The sound isolation in my building was poor, so I wasn’t even surprised when my next door neighbour knocked on the wall.

“Sorry Mrs Murdoch!” I yelled back. I let out another suppressed squeal and fell backwards on the couch, feeling happy for the first time in months.