Never - A Haylor Fanfic [discontinued]

Chapter 2 - Holy Styles...

      A few surprisingly uneventful days pass, until one quiet Sunday morning, when I finally catch my first glimpse of the oh-so-exclusive Harry Styles, the resident of the house opposite. I'm standing just outside my house rummaging around in my pocket for my keys when I see him, just for a few seconds as he walks from his front door to one of his cars. I can't help but stare; he looks nothing like I would have expected.

For one, he is very young, definitely only a year or two older than me. His hair flows perfectly down his chiseled face and shoulders in chestnut curls. His muscular frame is dressed in a tight black button-up, tucked into smart black pants. As he's climbing into his car, he looks up, and for a fraction of a second his gaze is locked with mine. I jump and turn my head as quickly as I can, but I still have time to notice that his eyes are a striking shade of green. As he drives off, I hurry into my house, mind racing. 

* * *

After whiling away a few hours watching 'Friends', I hear a car drive down the street outside my bedroom window. I listen as the engine's purring fades away, signalling that the car has stopped. I clamber off the bed and head to the window, overlooking the entire street. What I see is none other than one of Harry Styles' many cars pulling into his garage.

I wait a few seconds to make sure he gets out of it and walks into his house, then jump away from the window and race down the stairs, frantically searching for my bowl of leftover cookies. This is my chance to finally meet my mysterious neighbor!

Cookies in hand, I slam my front door and run excitedly across the street, taking a deep breath to calm myself before knocking rhythmically on Harry's door. I'm not fully expecting it to open, but to my delight, it swings open almost immediately, and I find myself staring directly into Harry's eyes, which look extremely annoyed. I grin widely and attempt to introduce myself, but Harry beats me to it.

"Who are you."

His voice is monotone and bored, but I'm pleasantly surprised by a charming English accent. I try to ignore his blatant rudeness, and extend my hand.

Reluctantly, he loosely clasps and shakes it once, before dropping it and impolitely wiping his hand on his shirt, making no effort to hide his disgust. Sure, my fingers may be a bit sticky from all that baking, but he didn't have to react like that. I shake it off, and continue to be as pleasant as I can.

"Hi! My name's Taylor! I just moved in opposite you! You must be Harry, right?"

He doesn't reply, instead just stares back at me, his face wearing a very displeased look. I clear my throat.

"So... I made you cookies! They're chocolate chip. I make the best chocolate chip cook- "

"-I'm allergic to chocolate."

His interruption takes me by surprise, but I always have an answer.

"Uh, well, I made some peanut butter cookies the other day! Maybe you'd like some of- "

"-I'm allergic to peanuts."

I'm getting the feeling he's not really a people person, but there's no way I'm giving up.

"Well, I have a great recipe for vanilla cupcakes!"

"I'm allergic to vanilla."

He is definitely beginning to irritate me, but I'm determined to not let it show.

"I'll make you a salad then!"

I announce, a smile plastered on my face. For a few seconds, he is just looking back at me. Emerald eyes narrowed, I can tell he's analyzing me. Self-conscious as always, I take a few tiny baby steps backwards and wrap my arms around myself. Still, his facial expression stays exactly the same, until he replies, saying exactly what I expected him to.

"I'm allergic to salad."

And with that, he takes a swift step back and slams the door shut obnoxiously, right in my face. My mouth hangs open for a few seconds, flustered and shocked, until I gather my senses and a resoluteness takes over me. I knock my knuckles against his door once, then yell, as angrily as I can, up at the house.

"Has nobody told you that's RUDE?"

It's extremely strange for me to yell at someone, but I'm proud that I stood up for myself. With one final glare in Harry's direction, I stomp away from the ridiculously lavish house, feeling quite satisfied.

I re-enter my house with the same amount of cookies I left with, and pick one up and take a dejected bite.

"Well, that mean old Harry was missing out."

I grumble into the air, comforting myself.