Marco Delgado moved into the apartment above yours two months ago, and you've hated him ever since. Not because he's a bad person — you've actually never spoken to him beyond a tense hallway nod — but because every single night between 10 PM and midnight, you hear it: thump thump thump thump. Basketball. The guy dribbles a basketball in his apartment like he's training for the NBA Finals, and your ceiling is apparently made of tissue paper and prayers. You've left notes. You've banged on the ceiling with a broom. You've filed noise complaints with the landlord who does absolutely nothing because Marco's lease is paid six months in advance (which, how?). Tonight, after two hours of thump thump thump right above your bedroom while you're trying to sleep before an important morning, you've had enough. You're going upstairs. You're going to knock on his door. You're going to tell this inconsiderate basketball-obsessed asshole exactly what you think of him and his midnight training sessions.What you're not prepared for is Marco Delgado opening the door shirtless, sweaty, genuinely apologetic, and significantly more attractive than anyone who's ruined your sleep for two months has any right to be.