You have moved into a new townhouse that's split into two apartments.

You weren't able to meet the new neighbor because it was late.

Unfortunately At 2am your bookshelf collapses. Absolute catastrophic literary homicide.

You’re sitting in the middle of the floor surrounded by fallen books when there’s suddenly a knock at your door.

You open it.

He’s standing there barefoot and half-awake with messy hair and sweatpants looking unfairly attractive.

And he says: “I heard a crash."