Chapter 2

I stayed up too late working on a research paper, skipped dinner and instead fueled up on a bottle of red wine and a bar of dark chocolate with sea salt, my all-time favorite. By the time I fell into bed, I was exhausted and still slightly buzzed. Which is why when I woke up suddenly a couple of hours later, I didn’t trust that my eyes were working properly.

A dark object swooped and circled above my bed, casting bizarre shadows in the moonlit room. What the…?

The object stopped moving and perched itself on the edge of the light fixture hanging from my ceiling. I blinked rapidly and squinted in an attempt to see more clearly. Then it stretched out a pair of wings and I let out a shriek. It was a bat!

I jumped from the bed, kicking my way free from the covers. I ran from my bedroom like I was fleeing a crime scene and only stopped when I was standing on the front porch, my heart thundering in my chest.

I rolled my shoulders back, trying to shake the creepy-crawling feeling from my skin. I looked down at my bare feet, realizing I was outside, dressed in just a black tank top and tiny pink shorts in the middle of the night. Not the smartest move. A dog barking in the distance brought my attention back the moment, and figuring out what to do next.

It was too late to call the landlord. My cats were worthless and couldn’t be counted on to kill a spider, let alone catch a bat. Maybe I could go upstairs and ask my hot new neighbor to come deal with the animal. He’d said to let him know if I needed anything, and I figured this definitely qualified.

But I couldn’t venture up to his apartment dressed in practically nothing. I gave myself a pep talk and dashed inside, grabbing a pair of jeans from a laundry basket in the hall and sprinted back to the porch, slamming the door behind me. I quickly stepped into the jeans and pulled them up my legs, buttoning them overtop of the shorts.

I straightened my shoulders and marched up the stairs to Cohen’s third-floor apartment. It was cool outside and the wooden steps under my bare feet sent a chill up my spine. Well that, and the idea of waking a complete stranger in the middle of the night to ask for a favor. But I had no other choice. There was no way I could go back into my apartment, let alone go back to sleep with a bat flying around in there.

I reached his door. It was the same solid dark wood as mine, with a decorative brass knocker in the center. I knocked on the door loud enough to wake him. I wasn’t sure if he was a heavy sleeper, but I didn’t want to take the chance. I normally felt safe in my neighborhood, but the combination of waking up to an animal in my room combined with being outside at this hour lent a creepy vibe I couldn’t shake.

I was about to knock again when the door opened and a sleepy, shirtless Cohen stood before me.

“Liz?” he croaked.

“Can I come in?”

He moved away from the threshold so I could come inside. “Did something happen? What’s wrong?”

I nodded and paced his tiny living room. “There’s a bat. Downstairs.” I pointed to the floor.

“In your apartment?”

I nodded again.

“Christ.” He ran his hands over his face. “Okay. Wait here. I’ll take care of it.”

He retreated to what I assumed was his bedroom and returned a minute later dressed in jeans and a fitted gray T-shirt. His hair was rumpled from sleep and he looked adorable.

“What are you going to do?” I asked, hoping he had previous experience in bat removal.

“I don’t know.” He went to the closet near the front door and pulled out a tennis racquet.

“Wait.” I jogged to his kitchen and grabbed a pair of oven mitts from near the stove and a plastic shopping bag from the counter. “Here.”

I handed them to him. He put on the oven mitts and held the tennis racquet defensively in one hand, the plastic bag in the other.

“Okay. You’re ready.”

We both laughed at the ridiculousness of this situation.

“Just sit tight. I’ve got this.”

I grinned at his confidence. “Thank you.”

He nodded and disappeared out the door.

I bit my lip and I hoped he wasn’t mad about me waking him up. But the way he’d laughed about the oven mitts before heading downstairs put me at ease. I sunk down onto his couch and waited.

His apartment was tiny, but it was clean and neat, and furnished simply with comfortable pieces. The living room consisted of a worn leather couch, along with a beat up trunk for a coffee table. His dining nook held a round kitchen table laden with various textbooks stacked in piles and was surrounded by several mismatched chairs. Definitely homey and inviting.

A few minutes later, Cohen was back.

“Well?” I jumped to my feet.