A Memoir, Harry Styles fanfic

Chapter 1

I run back to my mom who is waiting for me down the sidewalk to continue on our walk. She stops to talk to a neighbor, Ms. Nicolette. A guy, presumably her husband balances a soccer ball before kicking it up onto a knee and finally his head before bouncing it back down to his feet with skilled motion.

It's the type of skill that a guy just knows but doesn't really get put to good use unless showing off. He is showing off for me, and I am flustered because I don't know why he wants to show off for me. I like the attention and continue to glance back over at him while we continue on our walk.

It seems like the whole neighborhood was out, and it is a fun evening. It is the type where the air seems to sparkle. My mom and I are going on a quick shopping trip to get a dress for a formal event that was approaching. So we shorten out walk and head back toward the house.

I ask my mom about it later and she says she doesn't like it. She had seen the way he stared after me. I am in love with the way he looks at me. I gloat on it for days afterward and still do. There's no way to describe such a look, though. Such light ease and happiness across his expression. So careless almost, but he was sooo showing off.

I end up walking by his house on another walk to the cove and he is outside in a white shirt and sports shorts mowing the grass. I walk back by the house later on and he is no where to be seen. Suddenly, invisible sprinklers shoot to life. I am immediately sprayed as water rains and splashes from every direction. I quickly jump back with a small shriek and accidently step back into the grass which has one of those random holes in the yard. I trip and land on my side.

Suddenly, he is standing over me out of the way of the sprinklers. A smile plays across his lips and he offers his hand leaning over some until it is in my reach.

Heat floods my cheeks, but I grab his hand anyway. He is still holding it even after I balance myself on my feet. "I'm Harry," he says.

"I'm Julianne," I say wondering why an adult is shaking my hand. I usually hate that when I meet my father's friends. But I let my hand lay loose in his.

He glances over at a car as it passes and lets go of my hand. "I'm sorry about those sprinklers, by the way."

"Me, too. Now my white shorts are dirty." I try wiping some dirt off but end up smearing it.

But he is staring at my shirt before looking quickly away and swallowing hard. "Well, it was nice meeting you. I gotta get home now." I only say that because I have seen people talk like that in TV shows. It is my first time talking to an adult like that without my parents other than teachers and sales people.

I start back down the sidewalk and try not to look back. But I can't help it. I sneak a peak over my shoulder to find that his wife is pulling into the driveway in her red mustang. He gives her a kiss and pulls out the smaller of the two daughters from the car. He hugs her and slowly looks up at me from under his daughter's curly hair.

I whip my head back around and almost trip over a soccer ball. I kick it out of my way and it only moves a measly ten feet. I quickly go inside the house and up the stairs to avoid my step-dad's uncomfortable stair. Once inside the bathroom with a new set of clothes, I start to peel off the dirty ones.

I stop short when I see what I look like in the mirror. My shorts are dirty and riding high up my legs. But that is not what I stare at the most. My white shirt is wet and showing a clear depiction of my breasts through it. I look at myself, horrified.

Now, to get something straight, my breasts are a decent size for my age.  Let's just say I am gifted. My head spins a little as I pull off my shirt and start up the shower.

I collect myself in the shower and get out just in time to hear my mom walk in the door. I chat excessively over dinner to hide my true feelings which were more than a little flustered. I still feel tingly all over what Harry was staring at. My heart jumps as I think back to how hard he had to swallow to collect himself.

I lay in bed that night feeling confused and yet completely at ease with nerves coursing through my stomach whenever I think of him. I wonder if he is thinking about me at that moment. Then, I subconsciously turn over in bed toward the direction of his house, where he probably sleeps soundly.

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