The Girl Next Door: A Niall Horan Love Story

The Girl Next Door: Spying...

        "Kale, wait for me!" I shouted after my older brother. He looked over his shoulder at me, his deep hazel eyes crinkling around the corners. He flashed me his crooked smile, the one that meant "Come and get me'. I put on a burst of renewed speed, my bare feet slamming on the grassy ground between us, but Kale remained just out of reach. I looked ahead of Kale in attempt of seeing where he was leading me, but his head of unkempt blond hair kept blocking the view. "Kale!" I shouted a second time to no avail.

        As my brother and I ran I saw flashes of our old neighborhood blurring by. How often had we run down these streets? How many times had I jumped that crack on the sidewalk just so I wouldn't break Mom's back? I laughed at that thought, causing Kale to send me a curious glance. His golden eyebrows were raised, but in the next moment he had turned around and I was left running after him again. The sky above us began to darken and Kale's lean form started to fade away. "Kale?" I called, panic fnally starting to kick in. I pushed my feet forward, ignoring the burning as it crawled up my calves. "KALE!" I screamed. My hand reached forward and I watched in horror as it passed right through Kale's favorite UK shirt and touched an icy interior. My bare foot, cut and bleeding, caught on a root sticking out the side walk and I began to fall. My brother's grave the last thing I saw before darkness overwhelmed me.

        I let out a strangled shriek just before I rolled off my bed and crashed to the ground. The sweat-drenched blankets tumbled after me, burying me in a suffocating mound of my mother's quilts. I heard a door open down the hall followed by a rush of pounding footsteps. Before I could even attempt to throw myself back on my bed and pretend I was asleep my aunt burst in. Her eyes scanned the room quickly, taking in my beraggled appearence and the state of my empty bed. She gave me a sad smile. "Want some pancakes?" she asked quietly, tugging on a strand of her curling bed-hair. 

******

        An hour later I sat at the kitchen counter, a syrupy pancake held up to my waiting mouth. The kitchen was a mess, but aunt Clare and I had decided to worry about it later. I watched in amusement as she danced around pretending she was a flour-dusted princess. Her baggy t-shirt was caked with the white powder and a patch of blueberry juice was smeared across her cheek. She spun gracefully, her white tube socks making clean trails on the dirty floor. "Dance with me, Clarissa!" she called, reaching for my sticky hands.

        I threw my head back and laughed as I let her pull me to my feet and swirl me around. We leapt like ballerinas, twirled like princesses, and twerked like pros. My lungs burned, but I welcomed the pain with a smile. Suddenly my aunt's purse burst into song, filling the kitchen with the soft lull of a county song by Jason Aldeen. Aunt Clare rolled her eyes playfully and moonwalked her way over to the enormous thing she called a purse. I watched from my spot in the center of a whiten floor as she pulled her phone out with a triumphant woop and accepted the call. "Good morning, sunshine," she cooed sending me a wink. The person on the other end replied, causing my aunt to screw up her face in confusion. She turned away from me, put a hand on her uncovered ear, and walked into the living room.

        I bit my lip and without thinking began to clean the kitchen. Words floated from the living room in a disoriented blur as my aunt paced the floor and turned in quick circles. "I can't just....No, that's not what I'm saying Jim!....Put him on the phone and I'll tell him where he can put that!....Jim....I have my niece now...eighteen, but that doesn't...Plea-...fine, I'll be there in a bit." She stalked in the kitchen, a dark cloud hanging over her head. "Clarissa, I'm so sorry. My boss just called and said that they need me at the photoshoot, something happened and the models are having a fit."

        "No that's totally fine," I quickly reassured her. She shook her head and rushed to envelope me in a tight embrace. "Aunt Clare, I'm eighteen. I think I can handle being by myself for a few hours!"