Page 21 of The Jerk in Apartment 1B

“Hey!” I yell, banging on the door. I hear people laughing and talking really loud. “Hey!” I bang on the door again. “Turn the music down!”

Nobody does. Either they can’t hear me or they’re ignoring me.

I give up and go to my apartment, almost crying when I see that I have nothing to sleep on. Asher had a really nice bed with a luxury mattress, high thread count sheets, and a down comforter. I went from that to sleeping on the floor. I really hate Asher right now. How could he go from saying he loves me and wants to marry me to not even caring if I have a place to sleep?

It’s not like I did anything wrong. I never cheated on him, or even flirted with another guy. I was a good girlfriend. And a good fiancé. I even agreed to let his mother help with all the wedding plans, which is not what I wanted, but I knew he wanted to include her so I went along with it. Sure, we had a few fights now and then, but all couples do. And our fights were never over anything serious.

So what happened? Did he really dump me for his job? Or did he find someone else?

The music next door gets louder. I stomp over to our shared wall and bang on it, but nothing happens. No one can hear me over all that noise.

I’ll have to talk to the Jerk in the morning and make it clear that this level of noise is unacceptable, even on a weekend. Or better yet, I’ll call the landlord and complain. I’d do it now, butit’s late and I don’t want to anger the landlord. I need him on my side.

I go in the bathroom, which has a curtain instead of a door. The space is so small I have to squeeze between the sink and the wall to get to the toilet, which is right next to the shower.

After I’ve washed my face and changed into something to sleep in, I spread out some of my clothes to cushion the floor then ball up my winter coat for a pillow.

Unfortunately, my efforts do nothing to soften the hard floor. I just need to deal with it and try to sleep.

Three hours later, I’m still awake. And the party next door is still going on. In fact, more people have arrived. I can hear them opening and closing the door and talking really loud.

The Jerk has to be close to 30 years old. Hasn’t he outgrown this stage of life? I was done with all-night parties when I finished college. Now I’d much rather have a nice dinner and a glass of wine on Saturday night than hang out at a loud, crowded party.

Two more hours go by, and then finally, the music shuts off. I sit up, wondering if I’m dreaming this or if it really did stop.

It did. It stopped. It finally stopped!

I’m tempted to go next door and yell at my extremely inconsiderate neighbor, but he’s probably too busy licking whipped cream off his girlfriend to answer the door.

Overcome with exhaustion, I finally fall asleep.

When I wake up,it’s just after eight. I would’ve liked to sleep longer, but my body wouldn’t let me. It’s aching from being on the floor all night. I slowly get up and make my way to the shower, which is barely big enough for me to turn around.

At least the water is hot. I was worried it wouldn’t be, but I’m probably the only person in the building up this early on a Sunday morning. That thought gives me an idea. I finish my shower and search through my things for my wireless speaker.

“Let’s see how you like this, Jerk!” I say as I turn the speaker on. I go to the playlist on my phone, find the one labeled girl power songs, and hit play. I turn the volume all the way up and set the speaker on the floor next to our shared wall.

I can’t stop laughing. The Jerk’s going to hate this. He’s probably over there cursing my name. I bet he has a horrible hangover and a pounding headache, which is only getting worse from all the noise.

As the song plays, I happily sing along as I get dressed. I feel wide awake, despite getting less than five hours of sleep. Knowing I woke the Jerk up and giving him a taste of what I had to deal with last night has filled me with energy. Maybe I’ll go for a walk. I could use some fresh air.

Grabbing my keys, I hear someone out in the hall. I bet the Jerk’s coming over to yell at me to turn the music down. Yeah, that’s not happening.

I go out to the hall, expecting to see him storming over here, half asleep, his eyes droopy, his hair a mess. But no. The Jerk is standing at his door looking wide awake, wearing workout pants and a hoodie. What the hell?

“Hey, neighbor,” he says, smiling at me.

“Hey.” I walk over to him. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

I glance down and see he’s wearing running shoes. “Are you working out?”

“I already did. Went on a five-mile run and did some weights at the gym.”

“When did you wake up?”

“I don’t know. Around six?”

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