Edited

My closet had arrived, flat-packed and daunting. I had spent more hours this morning than I cared to admit, attempting to assemble its pieces on my bedroom floor. Assembling a closet proved to be beyond my abilities. For one, I despised instruction manuals, and two, the thing was too heavy. Even the delivery guys had struggled to lug it up the stairs. I considered texting Jenny to vent my frustrations, but instead, I suffered in silence.

Reluctantly, I picked up the instruction manual. And, as expected, I had started with the wrong piece, so I had to disassemble it all. I should have just purchased a few chests of drawers instead of this monstrosity with three mirrored doors.

Meanwhile, I had been on the phone all morning with Andrew, who had figured out how to hack the alarm and surveillance systems at the police station. I hoped they had case files there; otherwise, it would have all been in vain.

But what else had been in vain? Trying to assemble this oversized closet, which was missing a whole lot of screws. An hour after I called their service department, I was still waiting for a confirmation email with a solution.

I lay flat on my back on the floor in frustration, unable to get Atticus Emerson out of my mind. Just then, my phone chimed through the deafening speaker, playing Radiohead's "Creep." I read the email, which stated that they had contacted a local hardware store (of all places) and that I could pick up the screws without any additional charges. In defeat, I crawled into my bed and buried my face in the pillow. I was not going to the hardware store; I didn't want Atticus to think I couldn't stay away and ask me out again. A strange sensation began in my stomach, was it... butterflies? Oh my, I was definitely not doing that. The last time I tried love, it ended in disaster. I was only sixteen then, but still, never again.

I began composing an email to inquire about the type of screws I needed, so I could order them online. But just as I was about to send it, the security system on my phone went off. I opened the app and saw Atticus standing in the gravel, hunched down beside my car, examining a scratch, with coffees in his hands. I eyed him for a moment before he looked up at my house, probably hearing the music blaring. I lowered the volume and went out to the balcony. Leaning on the railing, I looked down and called out, "Oh Romeo, oh Romeo! What hath brought you here on this gloomy morning?" First, he frowned, but when I smiled, he laughed.

"Juliet! Has thy hath thy coffee on this gloomy morning?"

"I don't think that's correct," I laughed. "But seriously, what are you doing here? It's a bit creepy."

"Creepy is my middle name," he said, placing a hand on his hip. "I got a call from a store in Galway. Apparently, a certain Ms. Dandelion was missing screws for a closet. So, being the gentleman that I am, I came here to deliver them personally. I also came to offer my services," he gestured to the tool belt around his waist. "Unless you have aid?"

He wanted to come inside the house and help. I quickly glanced at the mess behind me; neither Jenny nor Andrew could be of any help over the phone. When I turned back to him, he lifted his chin and frowned.

"No, I hath no aid," I replied and checked my memory to ensure I hadn't left any unusual items downstairs. I had. "I'll come down." Atticus nodded. I tiptoed around and concealed a few things that weren't typical for a twenty-something literature student to have lying around. I quickly sent a code to the institution to alert them that I had a visitor that was a possible suspect, so everyone knew not to call me or come looking for me if I didn't send a new code within three hours.

"So, you do have a phone number," he said, noticing the phone in my hand.

"Yes, I do," I smiled up at him.

"You do? But I haven't asked you to marry me yet," he replied, catching me off guard. He grinned and handed me one of the coffees. I couldn't decide if he was an incredibly skilled flirt or just really bad at it. Either way, it worked, and I was officially infatuated and bewildered. He whistled as he entered the foyer and surveyed the place. "You don't need extra money," he teased.

"Extra money?" I muttered as I watched him take off his shoes.

"Yeah, most people join the Night Owls to make some extra cash. It's not much, but it helps if you want to enjoy a beer now and then." He was dressed in a tight white t-shirt and dark blue jeans, and the tool belt only added to his appeal, if that were even possible. It felt wrong to desire someone who had caught me lurking around the police station, who could be a suspect, and someone who had followed me home one evening. But the more I looked at him, the more I wanted to touch him. All I could think about was what he would look like while taking me on the kitchen counter, breathless in pleasure.

"No, not really, but I'd like to join the Night Owls anyway."

"And you can," he replied. "Show me the way to the wardrobe, missy."

"Will you make it so I can travel to Narnia?" I asked and led him up the stairs.

"I will certainly try," he laughed. I glanced over my shoulder, and he seemed to enjoy the view as his eyes didn't meet mine until he noticed I was looking, at which point he quickly averted his gaze. "Do you live here alone?"

Checking how easy it is to abduct me, Mr. Emerson?

"No, it's just me and my granddad. We wanted to escape London, but at the moment, he's on a senior trip and will be gone for a while."

"A senior trip?"

I let out a theatrical sigh. "Yes, to Spain and a few other countries. It's a bus tour that will culminate in a cruise to Italy, if I remember correctly. He's traveling with other seniors who didn't have the opportunity to travel when they were young. I had to practically shove him onto the bus; he didn't want me to move here all by my lonesome." A well-constructed lie had to be carefully planned and practiced. Jenny and Andrew had interrogated me about my fictional granddad a hundred times. When he eventually passed away, it would appear natural for me to inherit the house and live here alone.

"Well, you're not alone now," Atticus said with a sigh as I opened the door to my bedroom and revealed the chaotic scene on the floor. "This is not your strong suit, I see."

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