Jake Oettinger - Across the Hall
It started with a knock.
You were fumbling with your grocery bags, juggling a carton of eggs and a bag of cereal, when the sound echoed through your apartment door. You nearly dropped everything trying to reach it.
Standing there was Jake Oettinger, gym bag slung over his shoulder, hair messy in that perfectly effortless way, and a grin that immediately made your knees go weak.
“Hey,” he said casually, one eyebrow raised. “Need some help with those?”
You blinked, juggling the eggs with a squeak. “Uh… sure? I think I might drop everything otherwise.”
“Thought so,” he said, stepping in before you could protest, grabbing a couple of your heavier bags. “I’m Jake—your neighbor, by the way. Floor below. I’ve been meaning to say hi properly, but, well…” He shrugged like he hadn’t just made your heart skip a beat.
“I’m Y/N,” you said, still fumbling with the cereal. “Nice to officially meet you… neighbor.”
He grinned, handing over the bags. “Nice to meet you too. And don’t worry, I’m friendly. Just… occasionally heroic with groceries.”
You laughed, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’ll remember that next time I need a hero.”
That was two days ago. Since then, Jake had become the best accidental part of your mornings. You never saw him deliberately, but he had a way of popping up at exactly the right moment: holding a coffee for you when you ran into him in the hallway, teasing you about how loud you were playing music through the thin walls, or waving from his balcony when you left for work in your mismatched socks and messy hair.
And somewhere along the way, he started texting.
“Hey, Y/N. Did you survive the cereal incident?”
“You’re not going to believe this, but I just managed to drop an entire salad on the floor. Send help.”
“On my way. With mop and hero vibes. Also, coffee?”
You laughed, replying: “Stop being so helpful and annoying at the same time.”
“No promises. I’ve perfected the balance.”
A week later, Jake showed up at your door unannounced again—but this time, not with groceries. He was holding a small box of pastries, grinning like a kid who had just pulled off the perfect prank.
“For you,” he said, extending it toward you. “Neighborhood perks. Also, apology for laughing at your salad disaster.”
You took it, laughing. “You didn’t have to bring me pastries for a silly mess.”
“But I wanted to,” he replied, leaning casually against your doorframe. “And maybe… I wanted an excuse to hang out for a minute. Just… us, no chaos, no spilled food. I like seeing you.”
Your chest tightened. “You’re… really smooth, you know that?”
“I prefer the term charming,” he said, grinning, brushing a stray hair from your face. “But sure, we can go with smooth.”
It became a routine. Random texts, coffee on your balcony together, grocery runs that turned into long conversations, and little playful competitions over everything from who made the better scrambled eggs to who could carry more bags at once.
One evening, you found yourself on your balcony again, watching the city lights glow over the rooftops. Jake leaned casually against the railing beside you, hands in his pockets, eyes catching the glow of street lamps.
“You really do live up here in the clouds, huh?” he said, smiling at you.
“I try,” you replied, brushing your hair out of your face. “But you’re lucky I let anyone see me like this.”
“I wouldn’t call it luck,” he murmured, voice soft, almost hesitant. “I’d call it… privilege.”
You laughed, heart warming, leaning back slightly. “You’re going to make me blush, neighbor.”
“Maybe I want to,” he said, nudging your shoulder with his. “Maybe I like seeing you like this—messy hair, relaxed, laughing. It’s… nice. And I don’t usually say that kind of stuff.”
Your pulse quickened. “You’re usually very smooth, and now you’re saying vulnerable things? Dangerous combo.”
“Not dangerous,” he said softly, turning toward you, eyes locking on yours. “Perfectly human. And I want more of it. More of you.”
That night, you both sat on your balcony, pastries in hand, laughing about the weirdest things. He leaned a little closer, brushing your hand lightly. “You know,” he said, voice soft, teasing, “I think living next to you is the best accident of my life.”
“Accident?” you echoed, heart hammering.
“Yeah,” he admitted, inching closer. “I didn’t plan to like you this much, but… I do. And I want to be around you. All the messy, human, chaotic… everything.”
Your chest tightened, and you laughed softly, letting your head brush against his shoulder. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you love it,” he whispered, voice low.
“I… might,” you admitted, laughing again, heart swelling.
He turned just enough to press a soft kiss to your temple. “Then it’s settled,” he said, grinning. “Neighbors? Friends? Or maybe… a little more?”
You smiled, leaning into him, letting the city lights and night air wrap around you both. “A little more sounds perfect.”
And somehow, having Jake Oettinger as your neighbor suddenly felt like the best accident you’d ever had.
