Playing For Keeps (Harry Styles)

Chapter 5

Trudging back up the air conditioned stairwell, my mind tackled the gargantuan task of unpacking my new room. KitKat in hand, I sigh as I finally get to the 5th landing and push through the door to get to the floor lounge, where my mother, Gemma and I had been not even an hour ago. I continue over the overstuffed-looking sofa, where I plop down and throw my feet up on the coffee table. I open and slowly begin to eat my favorite candy as I stare out the window at the fading light and plan for the rest of the weekend.

I must've zoned out because when I get pulled out of my thoughts by a text from my mom, my phone says half an hour has already passed. I wearily push myself up out of my seat and shoot a three pointer into the corner garbage can with my KitKat wrapper. I reply to my mother with a "things are fine, xx" as I walk down the hallway back to my room. "Ugh," I grunt, rubbing my face with both hands as I stand in the doorway. The small mountain of my things stares up at me from the middle of  the floor, and I glare back at it. 

Walking up to it, I dig through until I find the thing I'm looking for: my phone dock. With my cherished possession in hand, I walk to the desk and bend over to find an outlet to plug it into. I am still bent over, ass in the air, when I hear someone knocking lightly on the open doorframe behind me. I shoot up, my back still to the door and the stranger, and hear a deep voice clearing his throat.

I slowly turn around to find a lean but well built handsome young man, maybe my age, leaning casually against my closet next to the doorway. A grin offsets his pale blonde hair and equally pale blue eyes, appraising me. He's kind of a total babe. "Um, hi?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest and giving him a questioning look. He smiles, and moves to extend his hand to me. I shake it as he introduces himself. "I'm Ethan. I live just down the hall. You must be here for hockey, then?" he asks, never once ceasing the flashing of his white teeth. "Yeah...I'm Isabella...," I trail off as I take in more of his appearance; I observe his lacrosse tshirt, athletic shorts, mid calf socks and sneakers. "I take it you're here for lacrosse?" I fire back at him.

"Full scholarship, baby," he winks with a laugh. My stomach flutters a bit at his use of "baby". Calm yourself, Izzy, he's just a stupid boy. You don't care, I coach myself.

My eyes flicker down to our still connected hands and I pull mine away quickly. I could feel my cheeks reddening in embarrassment, matching my embarrassed smile. He chuckles at me before pushing himself back to his feet from the side of my closet. "Anyway, I heard all the noises of a new neighbor and thought I'd...introduce myself," he pauses. "You can always stop by my room if you ever... need anything. 510." He winks as I blush a deeper red. "Bye for now, Isabella," he calls in a slightly suggestive tone as he eyes me with a grin before walking out my door and down the hall without another word.

What the hell just happened?

...

Wary of any more surprise guests, I quickly shut and locked my door. Mind still whirling a bit, I dance back over to my phone dock and plug it in- I'd need some background music to unpack my mess. Bon Jovi's "Wanted Dead or Alive" blares from the speaker after I do a bit of shuffling around, and content, I pull my hair up and start digging through my duffle for a pair of shorts to change into. Finally comfortable, I prepare myself to attack the pile in front of me.

...

Nearly two hours later, my room is almost home. I'm dancing around using my hairbrush as a microphone to sing along with Annie Lennox's "Sweet Dreams" when I hear another knock at my door. I stop in my tracks, pause the music, and quickly jog over to peek through my peep hole to find Gemma laughing outside my door. I quickly throw the door open and fling my arm out to present my room. "Welcome to Casa de la Izzy," I speak dramatically into my makeshift microphone. Gemma, still laughing, strides in. "Annie Lennox, huh?," she continues to laugh as I close the door. "You bet your ass," I reply with a wink. "One of the best. Shouldn't you like her too, Miss British?" I add. Gemma rolls her eyes and throws one of my pillows at me. I let it hit me square in the face, only to show a wide smile after it falls to the floor. "Oh you know I'm just messing with you," I laugh, and she joins me. 

"You're a bit strange," she manages to finally say after our fit of laughter had subsided. "Thank you, madame," I reply. 

"Phew. Okay. Grab your keys and some flip flops, it looks like you're just about done in here so I'm taking you out to fill up that mini fridge. It's painfully empty," Gemma says before prancing out the door. I dash to find some shoes, grab my phone, and find my keys. Gemma's head pops back into my room. "Coming?" she raises her brow to accentuate her cheeky grin. I stick out my tongue at her before grabbing my wallet and sprinting past her into the hallway. "Race you to the parking lot!" I screech as I continue running into the lounge. "No fair! You have a head start!" I hear her yell behind me, but by then I'm already down the first flight of stairs.

...

Gemma and I are both lying in the grass next to the parking lot, trying to catch our breaths but succumbing to fits of giggle instead. I won our race, but she claims she could've beat me flat if it had been fair.

I sigh and sit up, asking, "So where's our ride?" She sits up next to me and points to a black vintage Mercedes Benz, at which I can feel my eyes pop out of my head. "No. Way. Seriously?!" I jump up, circling the car in appraisal. She nods an amused nod, with a proud "yup". "Could I, uh, maybe, drive?" I ask sheepishly, looking at the ground. "Sorry love," she kindly says. "My brother would kill me if I let anyone else touch his car." 

"Oh, okay, I get it," I smile. "Shotgun will be just as sweet!"

Gemma laughs understandingly. "Hop in already, we have ice cream to buy!"