In Hate With You [mlm]

the fourth incident

I bounce on the balls of my feet, enjoying the music thrumming through the air. For as long as I can remember, I have liked loud music; loud enough to feel it humming in your bones, in your blood.

My arms spill across my chest as I dance across my kitchen, yelling the lyrics to the song buzzing in my brain. I strum my air guitar with a grin slipping across my lips.

Crashing echoes from the hallway, and I blink at the door, turning my music down slightly.

"Hello?" I say, opening the door.

"Can you please turn that bloody racket down?" God, it's him again.

"It's not even that loud," I whine, glancing at my phone to check the time, before adding, "Or late."

The man in front of me - Dante - scowls, crossing his arms. His hair is down to his shoulders, curling behind his ears. Hesitantly, I meet his gaze, registering the warm colour of his honey-brown eyes.

"Just turn it down, please," he requests, glancing away from me and down the hall.

"Fine," I mutter, a little disgruntled. I rub my fingers along the dent in my jaw, my eyes catching on one of the hairs that has fallen from behind his ear, and is straying loosely across his cheek.

Woven with soft gold and dark chocolate, his single strand of hair is prettier than my entire face.

Dante coughs, dragging my gaze away from his hair, and sends me a knowing look. A flush chases across my cheeks.

"I have to say, I quite agree, ducky." One of the older residents interrupts, sticking her nose where it's not needed. "Other people live here, you know."

"Yes, I've got it. I'm turning the volume down!" I scowl, focusing on the carpet at my feet so I don't glare directly at her.

She chuckles, walking up to Dante and patting him gently on the arm. I notice as he flinches away from her touch, but she is completely oblivious.

"You've got a stroppy one here, darling." She tells Dante, giggling. Suppressing the urge to gag, I glance at her face, recognising her as the woman who judged me when I fell down the stairs.

What was her name? I'm sure it began with a 'D'...Daisy? Donna? Deborah?

"It was lovely talking to you, but Ady is probably waiting for me to start our movie night," Dante says, interrupting my train of thought.

"Oh, of course, don't worry about me," maybe-Deborah reassures, rubbing a hand along his shoulder. "Go look after your wonderful family."

I grimace, gagging a little.

"Doris," I remember, chasing the word off the tip of my tongue. Her eyes flick to me, but she doesn't say anything.

"I must be off," she tells Dante, with a smile, leaning towards him so he kisses her cheek before hobbling away.

"Everybody bloody hits on you, even old ladies," I mutter with a scowl.

"I wish some of them didn't," he murmurs without thinking, casting a glance behind him to where Doris has stopped to talk to somebody else.

We share a look, watching in wonder as Doris chatters away to her new friend.

"I'm sorry about the music," I apologize, feeling guilty in our new-found comradery.

"I'm sorry for being a bit of an ass about it," he smiles (the third time he's done that!), and it lights up his whole face.

"Don't worry about it," I laugh, awkwardly.

I shuffle my feet against the floor, scuffing the edge of the carpet with my toes. He hums, nodding absentmindedly.

"Well, um, goodbye I guess?" I rub my neck, my eyes darting around his face.

Stepping backwards, Dante clears his throat, and sends me a bro-nod™. A smile slips along my lips as I watch him walk back to his flat.

As he reaches his door, I see Ady peek her head around the corner, and I wave hesitantly at her. She waves back with a grin, and tugs Dante inside.

I can kind of see why so many people hit on him, I guess.