[Open the door.]

You step lightly from the refrigerator and make your way to the back door, eying windows on the way. How paranoid are you?

As you reach out and flip the lock, the hairs on your neck stand up. Damn it, {firstname}, get a grip.

You get a grip on the doorknob and open the door wide.

There a stunning young woman stands smiling pleasantly, raven hair spilling over fair shoulders on either side of a tight and sleeveless blouse, which is hugging her slim waist and struggling to contain a pair of high, pert breasts, which you are **** to notice bounce as the suddenly opening door startles her.

“Ah! Woah, sorry! I didn’t—I just—” her bright green eyes dart over you nervously, and you realize you haven't brushed your hair. “Um, hi, sorry to bother you so early, but I just moved in over there—” she gestures a thumb to the house behind her, through a patch of rural Massachusetts woods, “and I’m heading to class soon, and, um, I sorta locked myself out of my car. So, uh—well, Alice—Alice Nielsen said I'm taking the same 7:40 neuroscience as you, so… I brought coffee!” The anxious girl’s left hand shoots up with a bag of coffee beans.