DISCLAIMER: I am borrowing lovely characters from the lovely New Girl.

SPOILERS: 2x15-17 (Cooler, Table34, Parking Spot), 2x20 (Chicago), and 1x1 (Pilot)

Oh and warning for swearsies (the D-word) (sorry!).

Nick opened the door to the loft while humming softly to himself. He threw his keys, wallet, and cell phone on the table next to the door and walked to the kitchen.

"Hey Schmidt."

"Oh hey there, Dante, "Schmidt replied from the refrigerator.

"Dante?"

"Yes, Dante."

"The Italian poet?"

"Yes."

"As in Dante, the Italian poet, the one who wrote the Inferno?"

"Yes. The very one and the same."

"Okay, this is weird, even for you, Schmidt. Why are you calling me by the name of a dead Italian poet?"

"'Abandon hope all ye who enter.' As in abandon hope. As in what Jess did 3 hours ago when you failed to show up for some cupcake related activity at precisely 10am this morning."

"WHAT?!"

"Completely ruined my fortified breakfast seaweed shake. The extra salt from her tears pulled the moisture out of my shake. A seaweed shake without water is just seaweed, Nick, SEAWEED!"

"SHUT UP, SCHMIDT!" Nick yelled at him. "Damn it! Jess? JESS! I'M SORRY! JESS!" Nick yelled as he ran to Jess' bedroom.

"It's too late, man. She waited for half an hour, and when you didn't show up she went to have brunch with Cece," Schmidt yelled to Nick. "Didn't you get her text, man? She was sitting here with her rabbit-eared phone texting, all disappointed like."

Nick ran back into the living room and picked up his phone. "Damn it! I put the phone on silent so it wouldn't wake us up."

"'Us', Nick? You didn't want the phone to wake more than just you up?" asked Schmidt. He looked at Nick and shook his head. "What are you doing, man? What's your game, player?"

"Not now, Schmidt!" said Nick. He scrolled through his texts.

From SCHMIDT (Fri, 4:30pm): Saw a sneak peak at 2013 Tom Ford suit, and it looks VERY similar to my 2012 Thom Browne. Now if I could just get a bowtie made out of that pink whale material from my Kanye belt, I'd be in heaven. Good taste is always in style, my man. Holla!

From WINSTON (Fri, 7:27pm): Hey Nick, Daisy invited me over. Can we fire up the DVR so I take a rain check on The Walking Dead this week? Thx.

From ZOMBIESvsNINJAS (Fri, 7:59pm): Hello zombie fan! The zombies vs. ninjas mud run will take place March 12 this year. Will you be the undead or the assassin? Pre-register today our 2013 website.

From JESS (Fri, 9pm): Hey Nick. FYI, do you remember how I couldn't remember which screwdriver was which? I tied different colored bows on my screwdrivers so I can easily tell which one is flat and which one is Philips. Mini bowties! Yay! Looking forward to baking things tomorrow.

From JESS (Sat, 10:10am): Hey Nick. You up? I'm waiting in the kitchen with Philip and Isabella (I named my screwdrivers!). We've got eggs, bacon, and the materials for cupcakes. Come get your cupcake ON!

From JESS (Sat, 10:35am): Oh, hey, Nick. I must have missed you this morning. No worries. See you later in the loft.

Nick read the last text to Schmidt. "Damn it!" Nick cursed softly. He ran his hand over his face. "I was supposed to let Jess teach me to bake this morning, and I forgot. What do I do now?"

"Well, Nick, you have two options. Option number 1, in that last text, Jess gave you an out by pretending it was okay. You could nonchalantly, but sincerely, apologize next time you see her. Option number 2, Jess was clearly upset this morning when you didn't show. You can acknowledge how upset she was and do your best to make it up to her."

Nick thought about his options. Old Nick, pre-kiss Nick, would have felt bad but probably nonchalantly and sincerely apologized. New Nick, post-kiss Nick thought about how vulnerable Jess looked the night he kissed her. He thought about how brave she was to come to Chicago and meet his family. He remembered the other night in the bathroom, fixing the light with Jess, and how she was brave and vulnerable when she asked Nick to share himself with her.

"Schmidt?"

"Yeah, Nick?"

"I'll see you later, okay? There's something I gotta go do."

"Okay, man. But before you go? You're my best friend, and I love you and I respect you . . . "

"Yeah, but?"

"Jess, she's something special," Schmidt finished. Nick looked blankly at him. "Jar, Nick. Jar."

On his way out the door, Nick, pressed $10 into the douchebag jar.