Rockstar Roommate

~Part Six~

The next few days passed in a blur of activity. My internship started, and I threw myself into the work, eager to prove myself. The office was everything I had hoped for—dynamic, challenging, and full of opportunities to learn. It was a welcome distraction from the chaos back at the apartment.

But no matter how busy I kept myself during the day, I still had to return to the shared space with Noah each evening. Our interactions remained tense and minimal, each of us avoiding the other as much as possible. I hoped the situation would be resolved soon, but it seemed like the mix-up was going to take longer to sort out than anticipated.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day at the office, I returned to the apartment to find Noah lounging on the couch, strumming an acoustic guitar. He glanced up as I entered but didn't say anything. I dropped my bag by the door and headed straight for the kitchen, ignoring him.

I was rummaging through the fridge for something to eat when Noah's voice broke the silence. "Tough day?"

I turned to find him leaning against the counter, guitar in hand. His expression was surprisingly neutral, devoid of the usual smirk. I hesitated before answering. "Yeah, you could say that."

He nodded, as if considering something. "You're interning at a law firm, right?"

I was taken aback by the genuine curiosity in his voice. "Yeah, Sullivan & Partners. It's been a lot of work, but it's a great experience."

Noah strummed a chord absently. "That's cool. Must be intense, though."

"It is," I admitted. "But it's what I've always wanted to do."

He smiled faintly. "Good for you."

I didn't know what to make of this sudden shift in his demeanor. It was the first time he'd shown any real interest in my life. "What about you? What's it like being in a famous band?"

He shrugged, a shadow crossing his face. "It's not as glamorous as it seems. A lot of pressure, always being in the public eye. But I guess it's what I signed up for."

For a moment, there was an unexpected understanding between us. We were both chasing dreams, albeit very different ones. But the moment was short-lived. Just as quickly as it had come, Noah's guarded expression returned.

"Well, I'll let you get back to your evening," he said, turning back to his guitar.

"Thanks," I replied, and went back to preparing my dinner.

That night, I hoped things might start to improve between us, but it didn't take long for Noah to revert to his old ways. The next evening, I came home to the now-familiar sounds of his late-night activities. This time, I decided I couldn't ignore it any longer.

I banged on his bedroom door, my patience at its limit. "Noah, we need to talk!"

The noises stopped, and a moment later, Noah opened the door, shirtless and looking irritated. "What now?"

I glared at him. "I can't keep doing this. We need to set some boundaries. You can't keep bringing girls back here every night."

He crossed his arms, his expression defiant. "And what do you suggest I do? Stop living my life because of you?"

"No, but you could at least be considerate!" I shot back. "This is supposed to be a shared space. You're not the only one here."

Noah's jaw tightened. "Fine. I'll try to keep it down. But don't expect me to change who I am."

"I'm not asking you to change," I said, exasperated. "Just to show a little respect."

He didn't respond, just closed the door in my face. I stood there for a moment, seething, before retreating to the living room. I knew this wasn't going to be easy, but I hoped we could at least reach some kind of understanding.

The following day, I woke up to a surprise. A note was slipped under my door.

**Mia,**

**I've arranged for us to meet with the apartment manager today at noon. Hopefully, we can get this sorted out once and for all.**

**Noah**

It was the first productive step we'd taken together. I felt a glimmer of hope as I got ready for the day. Maybe this nightmare would finally come to an end.

At noon, we met with the apartment manager, a kind-looking woman named Ms. Harris. She listened to our complaints and checked her records, her brow furrowing in concern.

"I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience," she said after a few minutes. "It appears there was indeed a mix-up with the bookings. Unfortunately, we don't have any other units available at the moment, but we can arrange for separate accommodations in a nearby hotel until we can sort this out."

Noah and I exchanged a look. It wasn't an ideal solution, but it was better than nothing.

"Thank you, Ms. Harris," I said. "We appreciate it."

After the meeting, Noah and I headed back to the apartment to pack our things. There was a sense of relief in the air, as if a weight had been lifted. But just as we were about to leave, Noah's phone rang.

He glanced at the screen and sighed. "It's Jeff. I need to take this."

I nodded and watched as he stepped out onto the balcony to answer the call. I couldn't hear what was being said, but from the look on Noah's face, it wasn't good news. After a few minutes, he came back inside, looking frustrated.

"Change of plans," he said. "Jeff wants me to stay here. Something about the media catching wind if I'm seen moving into a hotel."

My heart sank. "So we're stuck here?"

"Looks like it," Noah said, his tone resigned. "But we'll figure something out. We have to."

As I unpacked my bag, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of our troubles. Los Angeles was proving to be more challenging than I had ever imagined, and I wasn't sure how much longer I could handle it. But one thing was clear: I wasn't going to give up without a fight.