Crazy | {h.s}

It was nearly inevitable not to run into him every once in a while.

That's what living across the hall from someone does to you.

I've lived in this building nearly two weeks, but I have yet to have an actual conversation with him.

I'm stuck admiring from afar.

(which, in fact, doesn't help crave the fuzzy feelings)

(some call those feelings lust, but I dunno.)

We'd talked a couple of times, but of course with me being socially awkward and not usually the best at starting conversations, we've only managed a couple hellos.

He was beautiful, though, to be honest. He was fucking beautiful.

Anyone within a ten mile radius, gay or straight, could tell he was beautiful.

They could hear it too.

I'm sure the cops had been called on numerous occasions on account of him blasting that rock music throughout his flat. (Though, I loved the music. And a great sense of music taste definitely did not help the fuzzy feelings.)

Or for him yelling and scream-singing in the hallways. He didn't care who he disturbed or disrupted. And he definitely didn't care if his voice broke or if he sang off-key because it happened often.

He eyes could cure cancer and his hair could solve world hunger (let's not even get started on his fucking body. Oi)

I've decided recently I can't keep god awfully torturing myself on admiring from afar. I'm going to stop being such a pussy and just talk to him, even if it means I need to sell my soul to Satan to do it.

What bad could happen?

I'd just be having a conversation with him, not offering him my body. (Though I'll do that as well if he wants.)

I'm assuming he doesn't have a girlfriend because he's a fucking weirdo (my fucking weirdo) . . . And also he's the only one that's been in and out of his flat the past 2 weeks.

(Not that I've been watching.)

(I'm lying.)

(I have been watching.)

These thoughts throughout the weeks of me being here are probably what drove me to stop and stare at him in the hallway one afternoon after getting back from grocery shopping.

Apparently so had he. He stood there, in all his glory, juggling seven or eight full plastic bags and trying to fish his keys out of his pocket.

It was probably a spur of the moment decision instead of a long and thought out one when I dropped my two shopping bags outside my door and walk over to him.

"Do you need any help?"

"Jesus, yes. Thanks, can you get my keys out of my pocket?"

I was taken back, expecting that he would just ask me to hold some bags, but I comply anyway (how could I complain? this was probably the closest i'd ever get to his dick.)

"Maybe if you didn't wear such tight pants this would be easier."

He chuckles, "Hey, I love these pants. They flatter my arse."

He bats his eyelashes and sticks out his butt, clad in tight black skinny jeans, showing me it. (As if I haven't been looking at it for the past 2 weeks straight.)

I pull out his keys from his pocket. They are a dozen different keys attached to the big keychain. Many little light-up and feathered things clutter the keychain as well, making me wonder even more about this boy.

"What's your name?"

I falter a few times before I stick the correct key in the door and twist it open.

"Lauren."

"I'm Harry Styles."

Figures, a hot name for a hot boy.

"What?" He chuckles again, his eyes squinting. (Which is really fucking adorable by the way.)

Shit, did I say that out loud?

He nods and I can immediately feel the visible color rushing to my cheeks.

"It's alright, you're hot too, Lo. Can I call you Lo?"

"Sure, you can call me whatever you want."

"So if I wanted to call you Sex Kitten you would let me?" He walks inside his flat and sets the bags down inside the door.

"Erm . . . well, no . . . but--I mean that . . ."

He laughs once more, "I got it LoLo." He says, then solutes me and shuts the door.

I guess most people would be offended if someone shut the door in their face, especially in the middle of a conversation, but with Harry Styles it was something different.

I'm still trying to find out if that something different was good or bad, but I'm leaning towards good.

Though there was one overall conclusion that I was sure of:

He's fucking crazy.

(Beautiful picture of harry on the side :) im so excited for this story)