I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, my body tense and my mind racing. The soft murmur of Jason's voice seeps through the thin wall separating our rooms. It's low, almost soothing, but it still grates on my nerves. I can't make out the words, just the rise and fall of his tone, but it's enough to keep me on edge.

I roll onto my side, pulling the pillow over my head in a futile attempt to drown him out but his voice is persistent, a constant hum in the background of my thoughts, and sleep feels impossible.

Minutes pass, and my frustration only grows. Why does he have to talk so damn much? Doesn't he realize people are trying to sleep?

Finally, I can't take it anymore. I throw the pillow aside and sit up, glaring at the wall like I can burn a hole through it. Without thinking, I slam my hand against the wall, the impact sending a dull thud reverberating through the room.

"Shut up, Wilde!" I yell, my voice laced with irritation.

The murmuring stops immediately, followed by a brief pause of silence. Then, I hear Jason's voice again, this time closer, more distinct. "I gotta go. I'll call you tomorrow," he says, and I can picture the smug grin on his face as he hangs up.

I roll my eyes and flop back onto the bed, pulling the covers over me and hoping he'll just go to sleep.

But, of course, he doesn't. Instead, his voice comes through the wall again, a little louder this time, though still muffled. "You're always so grumpy when you're tired, Arden," he says, amusement clear in his tone.

I grit my teeth, feeling my blood pressure rise. "I've been kept up by your incessant yapping for hours!" I snap back, my voice sharper than I intend.

There's a chuckle, and I can almost hear the smirk in his voice. "Admit it, you love the sound of my voice."

My scowl deepens, and I roll my eyes even though he can't see me. "Shove it, Wilde," I mutter, pulling the blanket tighter around me as I turn away from the wall.

Silence follows, and for a moment, I think he might actually let it go. But just as I start to relax, I hear the sound of the shower turning on in his room, the rush of water loud enough to make me groan.

Great. Now I have to listen to him shower.

I try to block it out, focusing on my breathing, counting sheep—anything to drown out the noise. But then the water splashes louder, and I hear a low grunt, followed by a groan. My eyes snap open, and I stare at the wall, my face heating up.

Is he...? No, he wouldn't.

Another groan, this one longer, more drawn out. My mind starts racing with possibilities, and I instantly regret ever letting him get under my skin. Now, not only am I annoyed, but my imagination is running wild, filling in details I desperately don't want to think about.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to force the thoughts away. This is ridiculous. I shouldn't care what he's doing in his room, but damn it, why does he have to be so loud?

I can feel the heat rise in my cheeks as the noises from the shower grow more pronounced. The steady stream of water serves as a backdrop to the sounds that follow – soft gasps and an occasional muffled grunt. My heart pounds in my chest, and I can't tear my ears away from the wall, even though I desperately want to.

My eyes move around my room and for a second I'm not sure what I'm looking for until I see the glass cup and move to grab it before stopping myself and cursing aloud.

Jeez, Arden. Could you be any more desperate?

Looking for a glass on the off chance you could hear him better?

I shake my head at myself and then I hear another groan, freezing as if I've been caught.

I shift uncomfortably on the bed, trying to ignore the images flashing through my mind. But each groan, each sigh, sends a shiver down my spine, and I can't help but feel a strange flutter in the pit of my stomach. This is wrong, so wrong.

As the minutes pass, the noises escalate, growing louder and more urgent. I bite my lip, torn between embarrassment and curiosity. Should I say something? Should I confront him about this blatant display?

He's obviously doing it on purpose. He knows I can hear him.

But before I can make up my mind, there's a sudden silence that falls like a heavy curtain over the room. The absence of sound is almost deafening after the cacophony of moments before. I hold my breath, waiting for any sign of movement from the other side of the wall. Was it over? Had he finally finished whatever he was doing in there?

Whatever he was doing in there? Arden, be serious. You know exactly what he was doing in there.

Just as I begin to relax, a low chuckle breaks the silence, sending a shiver down my spine. "Enjoy the show, Arden?" Jason's voice is teasing, filled with a knowing edge that makes my cheeks burn even hotter.

I sit up abruptly, my heart pounding in my chest. "You're disgusting, Wilde!" My voice comes out sharper than intended, laced with arousal that I hope he can't hear.

There's a pause on the other side of the wall, and then Jason's voice returns, unapologetic and teasing. "I'll take that as a yes."

I huff, slamming back down on my bed and forcing my eyes to shut.

It's silent, so silent and then the sound of Jason's chuckle interrupts my peaceful rest. I hate how much that sound gets to me. "Sweet dreams, Arden," he says, his voice low and laced with amusement.

I groan in frustration, flopping back onto the bed and pulling the blanket over my head. I squeeze my eyes shut, determined to block him out, but even with the water finally off, I can still hear his groans, echoing in my mind.

I need to get laid, as soon as possible.