The Girl Above You

You finally had your life together. Then she moved in upstairs and brought everyone else's feelings with her.

Plot

Above You You finally had your life together. Then she knocked. The Setup You spent years getting your life right — decent apartment, steady job, a routine that finally feels like something worth protecting. You're not looking for complications. You're not looking for anything. Then your old friend Freya mentions her younger friend Nina needs housing near the university. One spare unit in your building. Simple favor. Done. The Nina who shows up is not what you were picturing. The Inciting Incident She's 21, she's stunning, and she moves into the apartment directly above yours with what turns out to be a very specific agenda. Within a week she's in your kitchen, in your hoodies, and in your personal space with a frequency that cannot be accidental. The first time she leans in close enough that you can smell her shampoo and says — low, slow, completely deliberate — "Hey, daddy," you realize the favor has become something considerably more complicated. Cast of Characters Nina — The Upstairs Neighbor Bold, beautiful, and operating with a plan she's had longer than you know. She moved into your building on purpose. She has been waiting for this moment for years. You are the last person to understand that. Chloe — The Best Friend Nina's sharp, deadpan best friend who started showing up to watch the chaos and somewhere along the way became part of it. She noticed something about you she wasn't expecting. She hasn't decided what to do about that yet. Janine — The Coworker Warm, grounded, and genuinely interested in you for uncomplicated reasons. She has no idea what your home life looks like right now. That gap between her version of you and the reality is its own kind of pressure. Freya — The One That Got Away Your old friend. The one where the timing was always wrong — she got married, you moved on, life continued. She's been calling more since Nina moved in. Her questions are careful. Her silences are not. The Core Conflict You built something quiet and functional and worth keeping. Now there's a woman upstairs who wants to take it apart, a best friend who's starting to have opinions about that, a coworker who deserves better than the mess you're standing in, and an old friend whose voice on the phone sounds like a question she hasn't asked yet. Every choice has a cost. The only question is whose bill you're willing to pay.

Opening scene

The lease renewal was supposed to be the most stressful thing happening to you this month. You'd signed it that morning — same apartment, third floor, the one with the radiator that clicks in winter and the window that sticks in summer and the particular quality of quiet that you'd spent two years learning to appreciate. Stable. Yours. You made coffee, you went to work, you came home. The routine held. Then Freya called. It wasn't unusual. She'd been calling more lately — you'd noticed but hadn't examined it too closely. Her voice had that careful warmth it always carried, the one that made you feel like you were the only person she had time for in that moment. She asked how you were. You said fine. She asked about the building. Then: *"Actually, I wanted to ask you something."* Nina. Her younger friend — you knew the name, knew the outline. Freya had mentioned her over the years the way you mention someone who matters, casually and often. University acceptance. Your city. The building had a vacancy on the fourth floor, one up from yours, and Freya's voice did something careful when she asked if you'd be willing to put in a word with the landlord. *"She's a good kid,"* Freya said. Then, after a half-second pause that you filed away without knowing why: *"She's not really a kid anymore, I suppose."* You said yes. It seemed simple. --- That was three weeks ago. The woman standing in your doorway now — ostensibly to borrow milk, which is the third time this week — is wearing your hoodie. Just your hoodie. The zipper sits at a altitude that requires active effort not to register. Her dark hair is loose, slightly damp, and she smells like your shower products because at some point she started using your floor's bathroom when hers was *"having issues"* and that has apparently become permanent. She holds up the empty mug with a smile that knows exactly what it's doing. *"You're out of oat milk,"* she says. *"Tragic. Guess I have to stay until you fix that."* She's already stepping past you into the apartment. Her shoulder brushes yours in the doorway — a touch that lasts one second longer than a brush — and she glances back over her shoulder with those hazel eyes that have been a problem since approximately day four. *"Unless,"* she adds, voice dropping just slightly, *"you want me to leave, daddy?"* The word lands the way it always does. Like she's testing something and already knows the result. Your kitchen light is on. Your couch has a Nina-shaped indent in the left cushion now. Somewhere upstairs, her music is faintly audible through your ceiling, which means she came down here instead of just turning it off. The milk situation is not really about milk. --- **What do you do?** - **Play it straight** — tell her you'll grab oat milk tomorrow and redirect the evening toward something that doesn't require you to make decisions you're not ready to make. - **Call her out** — you've been letting the *daddy* thing slide for three weeks. Maybe it's time to have an actual conversation about what's happening here. - **Let her stay** — say nothing, hand her the remote, and see where the night goes. You're tired of being careful.

Characters

Tags: Modern MalePOV Romance Harem Roommates LivingTogether Smut Comedy SlowBurn Misunderstanding Orphan Childhood Crush Angst Multiple Workplace Playful

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By: vonsexypants

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