Jess stood behind the right bathroom sink and looked at herself in the mirror. She gave her bangs a few brushes with her fingers before deciding they were adequate for the day before her. Biting her lip, she sighed as she looked down at the mostly white, blue lined dress she had decided on as she readied for school minutes earlier, not stopping to consider the predicament she'd be putting herself in. Shaking her head, she picked up the toothpaste from the shelf below the mirror with her left hand as she grabbed her toothbrush from its cup with her right. She slowly applied paste to brush, careful not to get any on her dress. She glanced to her left while she started moving the brush across her teeth, a little less energetically than normal.

"Jess, you almost ready?" Coach called from the hall before entering the bathroom. "We're going to be late. First school day, 2015. Let's not get off on the wrong foot."

"Ahm-hnow-Rah-ah," she tried, not removing the brush from her mouth.

Coach stepped to the sink to her left and gave himself a look. A quick smoothing of the eyebrows and a pop of the collar of his green tracksuit was all he needed to bring a smile on his own face.

"Two seconds for perfection," he said, winking at himself in the mirror.

Jess rolled her eyes beside him and leaned over her sink to cautiously spit the blue-white foam from her mouth. After accomplishing her goal without incident, she lifted he head and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"All set," she said cheerfully. She slipped out of the bathroom as Coach followed close behind.

"So, do you think you're going to make it to the game tonight?" Coach asked as they made their way down the hall. "We're playing St. Rita's at seven o'clock. Bunch of slow, uncoordinated white boys. So… we actually might have a shot for a change."

"Sounds fun," Jess said absentmindedly. "I can't tonight, though. Do you think we should just drive separately?"

"What, and no carpool? I know how strongly you feel about limiting your carbon footprint, Jess."

"Just doing my part so save the world," she shrugged. "It's kind of my superpower. That and I can knit one very small mitten in the time it takes to sing 'Frere Jacques' in moderately passible French."

"Not a superpower."

"Agree to disagree," Jess shrugged.

Coach stepped into the living room and snatched his clipboard and whistle from the bookshelf behind the sectional. Jess stepped over towards the door, picked up her grey satchel that was sitting under the nearby table, and draped it over her shoulder.

"Hey Schmidt, we're out," Coach yelled down the hall as he joined Jess by the door.

"Hang on, I'll come with," came Schmidt's voice.

Jess flipped the door open, stepped out into the hallway, and started moving towards the elevator. She looked up and nonchalantly stole a glance at the door to 4C. Coach soon joined her just outside the elevator door and gave the button a few quick jabs. Schmidt stepped through the loft door wearing a grey suit with a navy blue tie. He looked up at Jess and Coach.

"You guys got everything? Gonna lock up."

"All set," Jess replied.

"Hey Schmidt, any interest in checking out a highly competitive, white knuckle, 12 year old boys basketball game tonight?"

"What, is it for a charity or something?"

"Nope, Jess has plans tonight so she can't give me a ride home. Parking at the school is kind of bitch, so I was hoping to catch a ride."

"I don't know, Coach. It's kind of a..."

"Drinks on me afterward?"

"… perfect night for a little b-ball. Say no more. I'm in."

"What's that smell?" Jess asked, crinkling her nose and looking at Schmidt as he approached.

"Oh that?" Schmidt smiled as the elevator pinged and the doors opened. "Pheromones. Yeah, it's called 'Tragen Schlamm". I read an article online. Apparently it's something bears secrete in the wild. It's proven to strike fear into the heart of any potential foes, inspiring submission."

"Ew."

"Sounds about right," Coach quipped.

"Yeah, I'm up for another promotion this week. Decision comes down Friday. This time, I'm totally going to kill it."

"Along with any small animals or elderly people that enter your wake," Jess cracked.

"Dayum," Coach laughed, putting his hand up for Jess to high five.

"Boom!" she said slapping his hand hard as they both continued laughing.

"Careful, you two," Schmidt warned, smirking and gesturing to 4C before stepping into the elevator. "It's pretty early. You don't want to wake the neighbors."

"No, I guess we wouldn't want that," Jess mumbled as she followed Coach and Schmidt through the elevator doors, which closed behind her moments later.

Behind the door of 4C, Nick was actually awake, peering into his new apartment's stainless steel refrigerator. He was up a little earlier than normal, to be sure, but he had been tasked with tidying up the bar after the employee New Year's party the night before. Since New Year's was the busiest night of the year, they just closed up the Sunday following and threw their own bash. Two parties, one cleanup. Made perfect sense. And this year, for a change, Nick wasn't even hung over. He had taken it easy the night before, choosing instead to face the task of tidying the dirty bar bright eyed and bushy tailed. Or, at the very least, cognizant and pain free.

He wiped his hands on the front of his blue tee shirt, pulled a carton of orange juice from the fridge, and grabbed a glass from the handmade shelf over the counter beside it. He set both on the grey, wooden kitchen island that served not only as more counter space, but as something of a room divider. Nick poured the juice into the glass, looked across the room, and frowned. The girls that had lived in 4C until two months previous had left abruptly, with no warning to their neighbors in 4D. Not that the two apartments had forged any sort of meaningful friendship or anything, but they got on well enough, and Schmidt in particular was disappointed to see them go. Though it was never confirmed, the chief theory for their hasty disappearance had to do with Remy. It seemed the girls had made the error of calling attention to a leaky window shortly before they left. Remy had spent a few afternoons working on the window, likely spreading his unique charm. Mere days later, the girls were gone.

Nick turned, slipped the orange juice back in the fridge, and removed a gallon of milk. He collected a bowl and a box of Coco Puffs from the counter, and returned to the island. Nick took stock of the furniture before him and shook his head. The couch, rug and coffee table were fine. A little too fancy for his taste, but not bad. He wasn't a fan, however, of the oddly shaped and brightly colored chairs that were scattered about the room. Most were seemingly suited better for eliciting confessions from suspected terrorists than for kicking back and watching a ballgame, but it was all part of the deal. It was mostly about timing, really. Remy had apparently chased the girls away mere days after Schmidt received notice that the strip mall his ill-advised store front was leased from got sold back to the city. The city, in turn, wanted to plow the entire strip to make room for a new office building. It worked out perfectly. Schmidt got out of his lease, even earning a modest buyout, and Nick got out of 4D. He also got all of Schmidt's old furniture when Jess and Coach voted to keep the loft décor as it was, refusing to incorporate any of Schmidt's more adventurous design options.

After filling the bowl, Nick returned the milk to the fridge and grabbed a spoon from a drawer in the counter. He scooped up the bowl and the orange juice and carefully turned the corner towards the bedroom just down the short hallway off the main room. He nimbly sidestepped the large, black bicycle propped up outside the bedroom door, careful not to knock over the black and blue helmet hung over the handle bar. He raised the glass to the bedroom door, and gave it two light taps before balancing the bowl in the crook of his arm and turning the knob with his free hand.

"Hey buddy," he called into the darkened room. "Got a yummy breakfast for you."

Face down on his mattress, mostly buried under his green comforter, Winston stirred, confused. He struggled to his back, staying under the comforter, and began to blink the sleep out of his eyes. As he looked up at a smiling Nick, he turned his head to see his alarm clock sitting on his bedside table.

"What the hell, Nick?" he scowled. "It's 7:45!"

"I know. And breakfast is the most import-"

"I went to bed two hours ago, man! What are you doing?" Winston fumed.

"I was just… two hours ago?"

"Yeah."

"Well, why the hell were you up so late? That doesn't make a lot of sense. Don't you have work today?"

"It would make sense if you ever listened," Winston said, covering his eyes with his elbow. "I told you, I'm working second shift down on Venice Beach all week. I'm trying to get on a schedule so I don't fall asleep behind the wheel."

"You mean… the wheel… of your bike?"

"Do not start with me, Nick."

"Hey, I'm proud of you, bud. You know that. Being a bike cop is nothing to shrug at. It's just, when I hear 'behind the wheel', I think..."

"Get out."

"But I-"

"Now."

"But I made you Coco Puffs."

"Nick!"

"Alright, alright," Nick said, backing through the doorway. He disappeared into the hall before quickly peeking his head back in the room. "Say, does that mean you'll be gone tonight, or-"

"Bike cops carry guns, too, Nick. I will shoot you."

"Right on."

Nick gently closed the door behind him and relocated to the living area. He set the glass of juice on the brown coffee table and took a seat on the long, grey couch. He settled in and shoved a heaping spoonful of cereal into his mouth. He still had a few hours before he needed to be at the bar. After briefly considering going back to bed for a while, he thought better of it. He had the place to himself tonight, and there were things he wanted to accomplish before going to work.

Cece stood behind the bar and slipped a white apron over the front of her yellow tank top. She held her cellphone to her right ear, and looked thoughtfully into the empty bar. Shifting her weight form her right leg to her left, she nodded and listened.

"Look, I hear you, Jess. All I'm saying is, it's been eight months. Eight months and you've been on, what, two dates? Two dates with two guys, and neither ended with so much as a peck on the cheek."

Cece folded her arms as Jess protested. Not having any of it, Cece took charge.

"Look, Andy is nice. He's cute. He's harmless. Just… go out to dinner with him. Listen, you've paid your dues. You and Nick both. There's nothing wrong with moving forward. It's been more than long enough. Besides, it…"

Cece pressed the phone to her shoulder with her ear as she listened and tied the apron behind her back. She then reached under the bar and retrieved a white towel.

"Well, you can't worry about Nick. Let him worry about himself. He's a big boy. Sort of. And who knows? Maybe he's getting out there, too. He's allowed, right? Look, I'm telling Andy you're in. One dinner, a favor to me. You're doing it. End of story."

With that, Cece hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and looked around the bar. It wasn't as bad as she thought it would be. There were still some wet rings left on the bar, and a few stray empties scattered about, but nothing nearly as bad as she had feared. She had agreed to meet Nick early to help clean up in return for him covering for her while she stepped out to her nursing class that afternoon. Nick was good about helping her get around her new class schedule, but they were both wary of Mike. He wasn't all that bad, really. He wouldn't ever have put Cece's job in danger or anything. But she planned to do all she could to avoid the man's pointed, caustic, and, admittedly, sometimes accurate comments.

She pulled a spray bottle of blue liquid from under the bar, and started liberally spraying the length of the wood surface. As she took the towel to the bar, she ignored the pang of guilt that felt over the conversation with Jess. It had been long enough, and things had seemingly stabilized between Nick and Jess. Things weren't like they were before. They likely never would be. But they weren't in a bad place. Ever since Nick and Winston had moved down the hall, things had somehow seemed better between the two. The awkwardness of seeing each other day, perhaps, somewhat alleviated.

Cece finished wiping down the bar, carried the bottle of cleaning liquid around the end and across the room, and started spraying down a booth over at the far wall. As she slipped into the booth to start wiping, she heard the door open at the front of the bar. Looking up, she smiled as Nick stepped into the room, wearing a pair of loose-fitting jeans and an unsurprising green flannel.

"Hey, you beat me," he said with a grin.

"Yeah, well you're not exactly a reputed early bird."

"Fair point," he said, approaching the booth. He looked around the bar and nodded. "This isn't nearly as trashed as I thought it would be."

"Right? This is going to take all of 45 minutes, an hour tops."

"Yeah, we could probably even open a bit early today."

"Or…"

"Or?" Nick said, oblivious.

"Well, I was thinking… you could…" Cece said, softening her normally intimidating features in an effort to manipulate. "Quiz me again?"

"Ugh, quiz you?" Nick whined. "Again?"

"Hey, I got a big test today, and I'm really stressed about it."

"I know, but…"

"Last time you helped me study, we got a 92%. Number three in the class."

"Yeah, but… wait. Really?"

"Yep. And this time, with your help, I think we could be number one."

"You keep saying 'we'."

"Well, I couldn't have done it without your help."

"I know, but…"

"Hey. I'll make it worth your while?"

"How are you going to do that? You already owe me for covering your shift today."

"Well," Cece said, shyly looking away. "There is this girl in my class. Amy. I think the two of you-"

"Not interested," Nick said, his mood shifting completely, all playfulness draining from his demeanor.

"Oh, come on, Nick? Don't you think-"

"Not interested," he said, turning and walking towards the bar. He swung by a couple tables, grabbing the occasional empty Heisler bottle, and carried them behind the bar where he deposited them in the trash. Cece approached him from the front of the bar.

"Look, Nick. She's tall, blond. Dark eyes, from the Midwest. Got a real bitter, snarky sense of humor."

"Oh, and that makes her perfect for Nick?"

"No, I'm just saying-"

"I know what you're saying, Cece," Nick said, looking her square in the eye. "And I know you mean well, but I'll say it again. Not interested."

"Nick, I just-"

"Tell you what," he interrupted. "How bout in exchange for me helping you study, you just drop it, okay? How's that sound?"

Cece narrowed her eyes just enough to let Nick know she didn't approve. She pressed her lips together and shook her head. "Suit yourself."

"Thank you," Nick said, his posture immediately relaxing. He took a deep breath before looking back at Cece with a smile. "You really think we could be number one, eh?"

"Oh, no doubt," Cece replied with a smirk.

"Well, all right then," Nick said, slapping the bar. "Let's get this joint cleaned up."

Nick stepped into the elevator and leaned back against its back panel as the doors closed before him. He pulled his cellphone from his pocket to check the time. It was ten to eight. He had hoped to have been home earlier, but Cece's test had run longer than anticipated, and that left she and him on the receiving end of a long-winded scolding/mocking from the mouth of Mike. It was probably worth it, though, Nick reasoned. Cece had told him she felt good about the test, and that was the most important thing. About a month back, Buster, Cece's pretty man-child, had moved back to Australia. Nick didn't know much behind the situation, and he didn't care to. He just knew it wasn't easy for Cece, and throwing herself into school had really helped her find a positive focus. And, as a surprising bonus, it actually made Nick feel really good to help his friend.

He yawned and stretched his hands over his head as the doors opened. He gave himself a few slaps to the fact in an effort to wake himself up a bit. Stepping from the elevator, he instinctively turned right towards 4D. He fished his keys out of his pocket and took two steps in that direction before stopping, realizing his error. He shook his head and did a 180 back towards apartment 4C. As he passed the elevator again, he heard the door to 4D swing open behind him.

"Ah, Nicholas," Schmidt said, stepping towards him and shutting the door behind him. "Just in time."

"What's up, Schmitty," Nick said, turning to Schmidt.

"About to go watch some youth sports. Yeah, Coach has a game and Jess had plans, so she couldn't wait around to give him a ride after school. We're going out for drinks after. You in? I mean, if you're willing to condescend to having drinks with your old pal Schmidt."

"Are you kidding me?" Nick said, slumping his shoulders.

"Why, whatever do you mean?"

"Not this again."

"I'm sorry, is this inconvenient for you?" Schmidt asked, folding his arms. "You don't enjoy talking about how… about how… you dumped me."

"Oh, come on," Nick said, putting his hands on his hips.

"No, it's cool, it's cool. I opened my room to you so you and Jess didn't have to awkwardly cohabitate, and you just tossed me aside like so much used dental floss."

"Weird analogy."

"I'm serious, man. I got those sweet bunk beds, and after, what, two days, you insist we de-bunk them."

"It was creepy, Schmidt."

"What was creepy?"

"Waking up in the middle of the night only to look up and find you staring down at me. That's what was creepy."

"That happened, like, two times."

"Yeah, in two nights!"

"I look because I care, Nicholas."

"Still weird."

"Well, I will not apologize for loving you."

"Getting weirder."

"Fine, whatever. We debunked the beds, and you still bailed on me, man. It was going to be just like college. Schmidt and Nick vs. the world. Compadres. Brothers."

"Look, Schmidt, we're not in college anymore," Nick said, walking up to Schmidt. "Besides," he said, putting his hand on Schmidt's shoulder. "College sucked. We were losers. I never want to go back there."

"But…."

"You know I'm right," Nick said softly, patting Schmidt's shoulder before removing his hand altogether.

"Fine," he replied, nodding his begrudged agreement. "But you didn't have to leave the loft completely."

"Yeah, Schmidt. I did. I really did," Nick said, giving him a look of resolve to emphasis the point. "You know this. Besides, I just live down the hall. We can hang out whenever you want."

"Well then, come to the game with me. We'll watch some terrible athletics and then go grab some drinks with Coach."

"Ah, Schmidt. I've kind of had a day."

"Right," Schmidt sulked, pushing the button for the elevator. "Likely story."

"How 'bout this," Nick said thoughtfully. "How about this Friday? You, me, and Coach. Winston if he's off work. We all go out. Anywhere you want."

"Anywhere?"

"I know I'm going to regret this," Nick said, shutting his eyes. "But yeah, you call it."

"I wonder," Schmidt said, looking excited as the elevator doors opened next to him. "It might not be too late to get a rezzie at the new apothecary bar down the way. They make all their own liqueurs. And they shake each cocktail for exactly seven minutes and seventeen seconds, and every drink is served in a one of a kind metal mug, forged by local metalworkers."

"Sounds like my kind of place," Nick said, wincing.

"You're going to love it!" Schmidt said, jumping in the elevator. "I can't wait to tell Coach. You work on Winston. This Friday, we ride!"

"You got it pal," Nick called, giving Schmidt a thumbs up as the elevator doors closed on his smiling face. "Can't wait."

Nick trudged towards 4C, glided the key in the door, and stepped into the apartment. He flipped on the lights and took a quick look around. Moving slowly, he reached into the fridge and pulled out a cold Heisler, flipping the cap into the waste can under the counter. He took a long swig of the beer before setting it down on the island behind him. Turning back to the fridge, he started removing some vegetables and greens, setting them on the counter. He had intended to try something new tonight, but his later than expected shift at the bar left him thinking he only had time for a salad. He'd load it up with tomatoes and avocado to help fill it out, he thought. He closed the fridge just as a soft knock came at the door. He instinctively froze, his breath catching in his chest a moment. Realizing how stupid his reaction was, he shook it off, placed the avocado on the counter and walked over to the door. Stupid or no, he allowed himself a deep breath before swinging the door open wide. There stood Jess, head to toe in plain, navy blue pajamas, her hair piled up in a messy bun, clutching what seemed to be a bag of uncooked popcorn in her left hand.

"Sorry, I know I'm a little early," Jess smiled from behind her glasses. "I was just getting a little bored over there. Hope that's okay?" she asked, pulling at the tails of her pajama top.

"Absolutely," Nick offered. "Come in."

He stepped aside as Jess shuffled in, barely getting her black, fuzzy slippers off the floor. Nick smiled as she passed, letting a genuine laugh escape before he closed the door to 4C behind them.