Not So Out Of Reach

Chapter 5: Unwanted Rhythms

The warm, soapy water swirls around me as I sink deeper into the tub, letting the bubbles cushion my skin. It's been a long day, and this—ice cream in hand, a bath, and my favorite series, Ghost, playing on my phone—is exactly what I need. The dim lighting in the bathroom adds to the calm, and for a moment, it feels like all the tension from the day is melting away.

I take a bite of the ice cream, the cold sweetness contrasting with the warmth of the water, and smile as a familiar scene from Ghost plays out on my screen. This is my kind of evening: quiet, relaxed, and completely free from the world outside.

And then, just as I’m getting into it, I hear it. That damn guitar again.

The familiar rhythm from upstairs breaks through my peace, only this time it’s louder. Worse. There’s a bassline now, thumping in sync with the guitar. I can feel the vibrations through the walls, and the calm I’ve been carefully cultivating slips away.

“Are you kidding me?” I mutter, sitting up straight. Two nights in a row? Seriously? This guy is really testing my patience.

I debate ignoring it for a second, but the music gets louder, the bass deeper. Nope, not tonight. I’m not doing this again. With a frustrated sigh, I set the ice cream down and cut my bath short. I dry off quickly, pulling on my favorite cozy clothes—soft leggings and an oversized sweatshirt—and without thinking twice, I’m out of my apartment, heading upstairs.

The music pounds louder with each step, and by the time I reach the door, I’m fully worked up. I knock, not too hard, but enough to make my point.

After a moment, the door swings open, and I’m staring straight into the face of a guy. Not just any guy. One of Jacob’s friends from earlier today. The very same one who stood at the back of the group, quiet but confident, with that brooding, Rockstar look about him.

He’s tall, with messy black hair that falls into his dark eyes. He’s got this effortless vibe—like he could be on stage or just hanging out, and either way, it’d work. The kind of guy who pulls off simple jeans and a t-shirt like it’s a fashion statement.

For a second, I’m caught off guard by how handsome he is. But then I remember why I’m here.

“You,” I say, crossing my arms. “You need to turn the music down. It’s been two nights in a row now, and some of us actually like peace and quiet.”

He raises an eyebrow, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Oh, hey, you’re Daisy’s friend, right? Winnie?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” I say, my tone sharper than I intended. “And you’re the guy who’s been blasting music through my ceiling.”

He chuckles softly, the sound low and smooth, like he’s amused by all this. “Sorry about that. Didn’t realize it was bothering you.”

I give him a look. “Well, it is. So maybe you could keep it down?”

He shrugs, like it's no big deal, but there's a glint of something playful in his eyes. “Look, music’s kind of my thing. Can’t help it.”

I huff. “Yeah, well, silence is kind of my thing. So maybe we can meet in the middle?”

Before he can respond, a voice interrupts us. A girl’s voice.

“Who’s at the door, Alex?” she says, her tone sharp. A moment later, she appears behind him—a cute girl, shorter than me, with wavy blonde hair and big blue eyes. She’s got that whole effortlessly pretty look going on, but the attitude on her face sours the whole picture.

She looks me up and down, her nose wrinkling slightly. “Oh. What do you want?”

I feel my irritation rising, but I keep my cool. “Just asking your boyfriend here to keep the noise down.”