BEING HALSEY

CHAPTER 2

I stare through my bedroom window across from my own.

There's no light on and i want to see his room.

I'm curious.

I reach for the light switch but change my mind and decide to wait a little longer.

There aren't any curtains on the window. I squint, but as far as I can tell, the bedroom is . . . empty. There's nothing in there. I look to the right, into the other room.

Boxes.

I look down, into their kitchen.

Boxes.

I look straight ahead again.

Nothing.

I flick on my light and then my stereo-Billie Ellish of course-and turn it up. Loud.

I sling off my slippers, tossing them onto the shoe mountain that blocks my closet, and tie my t-shirt into a crop top. I shake out my hair and throw down my headphones.

I glance at the empty window.

Nothing.

"Bad Guy" blasts from my speakers, and I dance over to my phone. I'll text Polly first so we can spend the rest of tommorow evening at the Tea Garden.

My eyes close, and I jump and thrash to my office chair. I spin in circles and laugh and throw my body. Billie's voice is pissed off. Her lyrics taunt. The energy of the beats builds and builds, and the bass thrums through me like blood.

I -am- invincible!

And then I open my eyes.

Gorgeous light skin guy grins.

"Hi Halsey."

I FREEZE....

Like fucking freeze!

He's sitting in his window. Literally sitting in it. His butt is on the windowsill, and his legs impossibly long and slender are dangling against the side of his house, two stories above the ground. His hands are folded in his lap as if spying on his unsuspecting female neighbor was the most natural thing in the world.

I stare, helpless and dumbfounded, and he bursts into laughter. His body rocks with it, and he throws back his head and claps his hands.

Gorgeous lightskin guy is laughing at me. And clapping.

"I called your name." He tries to stop smiling, but his mouth only opens wider with delight. I can practically count his teeth.

"I called it a dozen times, but your music was too loud, so I was waiting it out. You're a good dancer."

God I'm so embarrassed!

"I'm sorry." His grin hasn't disappeared, but he visibly squirms. "I only wanted to say hello."

He swings his legs back inside of his bedroom in one fluid motion. There's a lightness to the way he lands on his feet.

He reminds me of someone but I don't know who.

He stretches.

"Erm, Who are you?"

Which is, quite possibly, the stupidest thing I could say to him.

He's shirtless and I can see some visible tattos on his chest and arms.And his dark hair is shiny, like a hundred percent shiny. I'm not sure how it's possible without serious quantities of gel.

But he's black.

And i'm racist.

I wait for him to reply, and he clears his throat.