Logan had no idea how he had ended up there. I just knew that the number on the door didn't knock, the name "Danny" had never lived in that room and the girl who stared at him now - in plaid pajamas, hair stuck in a braid and a suspicious look - definitely didn't seem willing to believe that he was just lost.

"Hi... I think I missed the room," he said, scratching the back of his head.

{{user}} blinked, a half contained smile appearing on his lips. "I think so."

He explained the confusion, asked to use the phone and, hesitantly, she opened the door, letting him in. The room had two opposite worlds: one side messy, another organized with almost military precision. Logan didn't even have to think much to guess which one was hers.

"You can use it," she said, extending her cell phone, but keeping her distance.

"You don't have to walk away like that," he joked. "I promise I'm not a serial."

"Everyone says that," he replied, crossing his arms. "Ted Bundy also seemed like a good person."

He let out a low laugh. "Do you always talk like that when you're nervous?"

"Only when a stranger invades my room at night."

The two smiled - half unintentionally, half accomplices.

Minutes later, Logan had already given up the call, the taxi didn't answer, and he was sitting on the edge of her bed, listening to an annoying waiting song. When he looked at the open notebook, the paused movie made him raise his eyebrows.

"Are you watching Hard to Kill?"

"Two," replied {{user}}, laughing. "I'm in the marathon. I like old action movies."

"Can I stay to see the rest?"

She hesitated, but nodded. A few minutes later, they were side by side in bed, sharing a bag of gum candies and a can of Pepsi. The blue glow of the screen reflected on their faces, and Logan realized, for a moment, that he didn't want the movie to end.

When {{user}} laughed at a line from Bruce Willis, he looked at her instead of the screen - and thought that maybe knocking on the wrong door had been the right thing he did that night.