I finish putting the last finishing touches to the table and smile at it. I've spread a red tablecloth over the scratched surface, put out some nice white plates, fancy wine glasses, even candles. Ok, so the candles might be a bit much, but know Brett will love it.

The thump at the door suggests that the postman's been. Finally. He's always late. I take one last look around the apartment and then leave.

I live in a grotty apartment in downtown Chicago. I've been here for three years, ever since I came to "study" from England, and something tells me I'll probably never leave. I close my door and head down the stairs two at a time.

When I get to the door, I see that I've already been beaten to it by my neighbour. He's been here almost as long as I have, but I haven't even learned his name. He's going through his post and doesn't even look up. Huh.

The post's mostly bills, but there's a letter from my mother among the rubbish. I ease it out and put it in my pocket. Meanwhile, my neighbour's staring at his angry red letters with a look of annoyance on is face. I don't think he ever pays his bills on time. The landlady's always around his place, trying to get him to pay, but I don't think he's got enough money.

"Shit," he mutters.

"What is it?" I ask. I don't even know the guy's name, yet I'm nosing about in is affairs. Great.

"They're threatening to evict." He looks up at me, and for the first time, I get a proper look at him. Pale face, brown-blond hair, wide eyes. He's wearing black jeans, a leather jacket, and, for some reason, a black fedora. God knows why.

"Sucks, huh?" I say.

"Too right." And with that, he leaves. Thanks a lot, Mr Whatever-your-name-is.

I roll my eyes and go back to the post. As usual, the rest of the letters are just bills and junk mail. I take the bills, but not the junk mail (someone else can deal with that) and go back upstairs.

I put on my little black dress (I think every girl owns one of those nowadays, but oh well) and start on my makeup. This involves black mascara, black eyeliner, and my trademark midnight-blue eye shadow. I put on some pale red lip gloss, (nothing too dramatic on the lips, mainly because it just looks weird with the heavy eye makeup) and squirt my favourite perfume from Lush. I am obsessed with Lush. Like, everything they do is 100% vegan and they fight animal testing and they're, like, totally ethical.

When I'm ready, I make the mistake of glancing at the clock. Oops. Brett won't be here for another forty minutes. Well, thirty-nine minutes to be precise, but you get what I mean. So I pull my laptop onto the bed and turn on YouTube.

My favourite band is called Fall Out Boy. They're not like other bands in a lot of ways, but one is the most important, I think. No one has ever seen them. Like, they've released loads of albums and EPs and shit, but but no one even knows what the members look like. They're complete ghosts. They do everything online, and the only things that we (that is, the fandom) know about them is that there's four of them, and the lead singer has one of the most incredible voices I have ever heard.

There was a big shock a couple of years ago, after Folie A Deux, when we all thought that they'd broken up, because they didn't post for like, three years or something ridiculous, but then they came back with Save Rock and Roll. That was a very, very scary time for the fandom. It was kinda like the My Chemical Romance thing, except even scarier because there was no way of contacting Fall Out Boy.

I turn on their newest album, American Beauty/ American Psycho. I sit back and try to get into the first song, Irresistible, but I can't because there's noises coming from downstairs, where my neighbour lives. Like, loud noises. Asshole. I leave my flat.

I knock on the door of the flat below, hoping that my neighbour will answer. He doesn't.

"What?" One of his friends opens it, the punky one with the short bleached hair and the guyliner.

"Could you keep it down? My boyfriend's coming over soon and..."

"Hey guys! Get a load of this!" He shouts behind him. I can hear drunken laughter inside the flat. He turns to me. "Piss off."

"I'm not going until you and your little friends shut the fuck up!"

"Leave it, Pete." My neighbour finally come to the door. He's smaller than me and way smaller than his friend, but nevertheless, he leaves it. My neighbour nods to me."We'll keep it down."

Then his charming friend shuts the door in my face.