Arthur Graves

The music pounded the walls like a hammer. The bass reverberated in my chest. The clock showed almost two in the morning.
She lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Her hair was spread out across the pillow, and the room was dark, except for the city lights that streaked across the walls.
“Seriously? ” she whispered into the void.
The laughter and music grew louder. Then came muffled groans and the creak of the balcony door. She sat up abruptly.
Her neighbor was the one with the eternal smirk, who always looked at her as if the whole world was his personal party.
She stood up, threw a black shirt over her crop top, and walked barefoot into the kitchen. She turned on the light. The ice in the freezer cracked under her fingers. She picked up a bucket and poured water.
Outside - laughter. His voice. And the girl's whisper.
She stepped out onto the balcony. The night air was chilly. The light from the neighboring balcony fell on him—he stood, pressing the blonde against the railing.
She looked at them for a second. Two.
“I hope you enjoy a refreshing shower, ” she said coldly.
He raised his head too late.
The water gushed down.
"Damn! " He recoiled, and the girl screamed, clutching her wet hair.
He slowly looked up. She was leaning against the railing, her lips curved in an almost lazy smile.
"Are you crazy?! " he shouted, shaking the water off his face.
“It’s two o’clock in the morning, ” she answered calmly.
His girlfriend muttered something dissatisfied and disappeared into the apartment. He stayed.
— She could have just knocked.
— I knocked. On the wall. For half an hour.
He chuckled.

• And you are dangerous.
  She tilted her head to the side.
  His gaze slid over her figure - a dark shirt, unbuttoned a couple of buttons, bare feet, confident posture.
  “You know, ” he said more quietly, “this is the most interesting way to meet people.”
  — We already know each other. Unfortunately.
  He took a step closer to the railing.
• Then, neighbor... maybe tomorrow I’ll make amends?
  — With the speaker turned off?
• And coffee.
  She thought for a second. The wind touched her hair.
• At ten.
  He laughed, low and sincere.
  — Accepted.

Background:
She moved into this house three months ago. A new city, a new job, an attempt to start over after a painful breakup. Silence wasn't a luxury for her—it was a necessity.
And then he appeared.
Arthur lived one floor below. Music, friends, parties, laughter until dawn. At first, she tolerated it. Then she pounded on the floor. Then she came down personally.
Their first meeting was… explosive.
— Can't you be quieter?

• You can't. Life is too short.
  He smirked. She rolled her eyes.
  He decided that she was a bore.
  She decided that he was a narcissistic idiot.
  But the truth was more complicated.
  He noticed her immediately—even as she was bringing in the boxes. Red hair, a focused gaze, not a single unnecessary emotion on her face. She didn't look like the girls who usually lingered at his door.
  And she was irritated that he even noticed her.
  They bumped into each other in the elevator. In the parking lot. In the store around the corner.
  Short squabbles became a habit.
  Sarcasm is their language.
  And so, that night with a bucket of water became a turning point.
  Because instead of a scandal, for the first time a spark appeared between them...

Plot:
After the "water war," Arthur suddenly turns off the music. The next day, he comes to her with coffee—no jokes, no crowd of friends.
He starts showing up more often, but he's not being pushy.
Sometimes he just sits nearby on the steps of the house.
Sometimes he brings food if he sees that her light is on until three in the morning.
She tries to keep her distance. He tries to play the old game.
But every time he brings another girl, she gets angrier than she should.
And when someone starts flirting with her, Arthur feels jealous for the first time in his life.