The Trouble Down The Hall

6.

Jules

Tired doesn’t begin to describe how I was feeling tonight. Judith again was a bit over the top, rejecting all the designs I came up with because they seemed last season.

That b***h. Like she ever came up with anything other than those chaotic designs no one could wear if they were mentally stable.

Sighing, I closed my eyes again as the cab entered my street, but I immediately snapped my eyes open, furrowing my brows as I heard the loud music.

Well, it wasn’t all that loud, but if I could hear it, then inside whatever house it was being played, it was going to be booming.

Goodness, I hoped it wasn’t anywhere close to my house, or so I prayed, because I needed to shower and get myself to bed as soon as possible.

I rubbed at my temple, just as the driver spoke. “We're here,” he said, looking over his shoulder to smile at me.

Sighing, I grabbed my purse and paid him, then I got out and said thank you, before waving at him. Then I started to walk toward the front door but I stopped short. Wait, that music was louder here, not enough to disturb the neighbors, but certainly enough to annoy me, because damn it, it was coming out of my apartment.

My house was those kinds of row houses that had various apartments in the building, but also, we get to have yards and small fences around each one. This wasn’t me being mistaken, I was sure, the music was coming from my house.

I gritted my teeth as I pushed open the front gate, my heels crunching against the gravel. The closer I got, the clearer the sound became; bass, laughter, and… male voices. Several of them.

Was that… wait, was that a party going on in there? You’ve got to be kidding me.

I unlocked the front door and shoved it open, half expecting to see Ryan watching TV too loud. Instead, what I saw made my blood pressure hit new heights, because it was exactly what I thought it was.

There were three men in my living room.

Beer bottles on the coffee table, pizza boxes open like some frat house offering. And in the middle of it all was Ryan, sprawled on my couch, looking far too comfortable, laughing at something one of them said.

What in the world was going on? This man was having a party in my house without my permission or my knowing about it?

The audacity.

All three pairs of eyes turned toward me when the door slammed shut behind me.

“Hey, Jules,” Ryan said with that easy grin that always made me want to throw something at his head. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

I wanted to walk over to him and hit him damn square in his stupid face. I wanted to scream at him for being an asshole and maybe even call the cops on him. Instead, I blew out a breath.

“No kidding,” I said, dropping my bag on the side table. “What is this? A construction site social hour?”

At that, he stood up with hands slipping casually into his pockets. “Just a couple of the guys from work. I thought I’d host a small hangout. You know, team bonding.”

“Team bonding,” I repeated, my voice dripping disbelief. “In my living room.” I scoffed as I look from him to the other guys.

“Our living room,” he corrected smoothly.

I laughed; one of those disbelieving, slightly deranged laughs that come right before someone snaps. “Right. Of course. Silly me. I must’ve missed the memo where you asked permission to turn my house into a sports bar.”

He tilted his head, watching me, and for a second, I saw it; the flicker of guilt before that cocky mask slid back in place. “Relax, Jules. We’re not hurting anyone. I’ll clean up after.”

I stepped forward, pointing toward the coffee table littered with bottles. “You’d better. And turn that music off before I take a bat to the speaker.”

The guys shifted awkwardly, mumbling something about calling it a night. Ryan tried to wave them off, but I crossed my arms, jaw tight. “No, let them go. The party’s over.”

When the last of them finally left, silence settled over the room; except for the faint thud of my heartbeat still in my ears.

Ryan leaned against the armrest, arms folded. “You always this fun at parties?” he asked me so casually, like we're trying to pick a paint color.

“Only when strangers invade my house,” I shot back. “You didn’t think to ask me first?”

His tone dropped a bit quieter. “I didn’t think it’d be a big deal.” he

“Well, it is,” I said, more sharply than I meant to. “I’ve had a long day, and this…”I gestured around at the mess, “… is not how I wanted to end it.”

He studied me for a long second, the tension stretching like a live wire between us. “You look tired,” he finally said, softer this time. “Rough day?” he asked and I almost rolled my eyes but the unexpected gentleness almost threw me.

“Don’t do that.” I said instead and he frowned.

“Do what?” he asked.

“Act like you care.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe I don’t. But maybe I still know what it’s like to come home and just want quiet.”

That shut me up for a beat. His voice wasn’t teasing anymore. It was real, too real.

I stared at him, my throat tightening. “Well, congratulations,” I finally said, my voice low and shaking just enough to betray me. “You’ve succeeded in making sure I’ll always fear whether or not l’ll come home to peace again.”

He raised an eyebrow, his jaw tightening. “You’re acting like I trashed the place, Jules. It was just a few beers.”

“It’s not about the damn beers!” I snapped. “It’s about respect. You live here, but you don’t get to do whatever you want like it’s your bachelor pad. I have a life, I have work…”

He scoffed, cutting me off. “Yeah, I’ve noticed. You walk around like this place is a temple of productivity. You’d think breathing too loud would get me evicted.”

I blinked, stung. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, stepping closer, his voice rougher now. “You treat me like some intruder, like I’m not even supposed to exist here. Newsflash, Jules. I pay rent, and if you don't want me here, return my rent and we’ll be done with it.”

“Rent doesn’t buy you the right to be inconsiderate,” I shot back, stepping right into his space. “Or to throw a party when you know I’ve been working all week!”

“Working?” he repeated, scoffing again. “You mean staying up till three a.m. rearranging throw pillows and glaring at your laptop like it personally offended you? Yeah, that sounds exhausting.”

The words hit harder than I wanted them to. I swallowed, my pulse racing for reasons that had nothing to do with anger.

He must’ve seen it, the flicker in my expression, because his smirk softened, almost instantly.

“Jules,” he said quietly, his tone shifting, but I held up a hand.

“Don’t,” I said, voice shaking again. “Don’t you f*****g touch me. I said, swatting away his hands.

“I didn't mean…”

“I don't care what you mean or how you mean it. And newsflash for you, too. If I had your rent, you'd be gone by now.” With that, I turned and walked to my room, but not before muttering the words “f*****g asshole,” loud enough for him to hear me.