It took me two days, two whole long and arduous days before my curiosity got the better of me. 

At first I was in sheer denial.  It was all a complete coincidence.  Somehow my eyes had deceived me last week when we argued at the kitchen door and the image of Mick in my head just happened to be bit Harry Stylesish.  In fact, it wasn't him at all and it was all so ridiculous I even laughed out loud to myself at how silly I was being. 

This notion managed to get me through half of my Saturday before my brain kindly reminded me about the names I'd overheard during Mick's phone call.  I was working my afternoon shift at the florist in town when this thought popped into my head and my conscience smiled wickedly at me with her arms folded as I recalled those names that slipped so familiarly off of Mick's tongue - Liam, Louis, Niall.  No, again it's purely coincidence; those names are common, particularly for people around my age. 

For the most part it was a busy shift and I had no time to entertain my thoughts.  That's until the clock slowly ticked towards closing time and the day calmed and whilst making a brew my mind swung around to it again.  As I recollected the telephone call in the minutest of detail something I had completely overlooked until now came flying towards me so fast it practically punched me in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me and my tea all over the floor.  "You're such a girl HAZ" Liam had said.  "HAZ?"  No, no, no, I'm now imagining things that are untrue. 

Later that night, I text Olive to thank her for the lovely girlie evening and apologised for rushing off.  Much to my relief she replied straightaway that it was great to catch up so I knew all was good between us.  She is usually so observant but if she suspected anything from my odd behaviour she didn't mention it in her reply. 

After that, and for the rest of Saturday and into Sunday, I avoided TV, radio, any newspaper or magazine that happened to be lying around the house and all forms of social media.  This action was laughable because Mr Styles had not been on my social media radar in the past so why suddenly should he be now.  I tossed and turned my way through the night during Saturday so treated myself to a lie-in Sunday then I studied hard all day, hardly leaving my room. 

Now it's 3am on Monday morning and I've finally caved.  I've been awake since 1am staring into the black space up towards my ceiling.  With a sigh, I reach down to the floor by my bedside and grab my laptop.

Typing the name Mick Greenberg into the search engine, I close my weary eyes and screw up my face.  After a few seconds, I open one eye just a smidgen to peek at the results.  Only one name repeats itself over and over on the screen. 

Harry Styles.

I close both eyes again and let out a deep sigh.  Final confirmation.

Initial reaction is every over-exaggerated emotion I can feel.  My heart is pounding in my chest, my cheeks are flushed and my hands shaking.  As I stare at all the 'Harrys' visible on the screen, his name blurs out of focus, embedding itself onto the glaze of my eyeballs.

However, over the next few minutes as I calm down and reality comes back to me, I feel disappointed with my reaction.  I suck a deep breath in as I sit in the dark with only the illumination of the laptop screen for light and I have one of my conversations with myself.  "Look Lily, what difference does it make? None, nada, nout!  You really couldn't care less who he is.  It doesn't change anything.  Yes you think he's good looking but to him you are just another very small fish in his very large pond of life.  He'd walk straight past you if he saw you in the street.  No, this doesn't alter anything." 

At this conclusion I could have left it there and put the laptop down but I'd come this far so convinced myself there was no harm in creeping just a little. 

I select images and as soon as they load I ask myself how I didn't know it was him.  I mean I'm no fan but I've heard a few of their songs on the radio and he is always in the media. 

Reading over all the articles everything falls into place.  The band is on an extended break after five years hard work and Harry has disappeared and despite wild speculation in the press no one knows where he is.  Apart from me now it seems! 

It had finally sunk in that the man who is renting my family house is Harry aka Mick, really famous person with an exceptionally odd taste in shirts.  It also dawns on me that I am really making this into something bigger than it is.  So what.  He's just a human being like the rest of us with thoughts, feelings and emotions.  Well perhaps not feelings based on my experience.  He's just a man who probably farts, possibly snores and most likely picks his toenails, just like 99.9% of the rest of the male population around the world. 

My eyes refocus on the images in front of me, lots of pairs of stunning greens shining back at me.  My curiosity spikes further as I delve deeper into the online persona that is Mr Styles. 

General opinion seems to suggest that he is the humblest, nicest, softest, kindest, loveliest human being to ever walk the planet.  Well, not in my experience people! He's a stereotypical moody diva pop star. 

Suddenly I remember my outburst.  I had told him to shove his gardening so perhaps that was going to be my get out clause to never see him again.  It was a heat of the moment comment though and one I regret.  I would find great difficulty in staying away from Summer Haze, even for a few months.  Damn.  He hasn't called mum, that I know of, so now I am in a quandary – what am I going to do?