It’s already noon by the time I drag myself out of bed. Not that I have anything better to do.

I woke up at 5:30 with the scene from outside the club playing over in my head. I almost made some coffee, but decided it would eliminate the only thing I have planned today, which is sleeping.

But I can’t push that scuffle out of my mind.

It’s not like it was my first physical encounter. Far from it.

I knew when I joined the force that I’d be putting myself in harms way. Willingly. I’m lucky to have never been shot, but I’ve taken more than a few knocks. I can handle some physicality.

What infuriates me is my own defensive reaction. Or lack thereof.

Granted, I wasn’t entirely sober. Not an excuse, but certainly a factor. I don’t care about his size, on the job I would’ve taken that asshole down immediately. On the job, I would’ve had my gear. Things wouldn’t have escalated the way they did if I had my badge.

And now that I think about it, that’s not what’s bothering me at all. It’s Noah.

If Nora hadn’t decided to play actress, Noah and I would’ve never been interrupted and we would’ve never gone to wait outside in the first place.

I trusted her when she said I needed a night out. And I probably did. But this is Nora’s fault. I would’ve been plenty happy to stay home and watch Law and Order all night. Now I’m hung up on him.

His sarcasm.

His laugh.

His smile.

His eyes.

I feel like I was denied a chance at something special. He was special. Unlike anyone I’ve been with before. But here I am, the morning after nothing, romanticizing the idea of someone I met randomly in a club. Maybe this is exactly why I’m twenty-nine and single as can be.

Though I can’t pretend this happens often. He deserves to be romanticized.

But when I open my phone, my balloon of anticipation pops at the empty screen. Nothing. It’s been less than twenty-four hours, but after all that commotion I was expecting a quick text at the very least.

Sherlock traces my steps down the stairs. We’re both irritated. His breakfast is nearing 6 hours late. The spoiled brat is used to getting his wet food right when I wake up for work, but that’s not our routine anymore.

“Better start getting used to the suspended-life,” I tell him, reaching for a can of Fancy Feast from the pantry. Sherlock jumps onto the kitchen counter as I scoop his food.

“Hey, get down,” I scold, scooting him until he jumps back off. “You know better.”

I watch as he devours the entire can in under a minute.

“You’re getting kind of chubby in your old age, you know that?”

His eyes follow me expectantly after I pick up his plate. “Nope, no more. All gone. In fact, maybe we should get you on a diet.” He’s still weaving between my feet so I pick him up. “What do you think about that, huh? You’d hate me.”

I settle him in my arms and comb through his fur. It’s twelve seventeen. I’ve been up for seventeen minutes and already feel like going back to sleep.

This suspension is going to be the death of me.

“Hey, you wanna go back to bed?” I let him down from my arms and whistle as I head for the stairs. His little footfalls follow all the way into my room.

Before collapsing into bed, I set my phone and coffee on the bedside table. I’ve barely touched it. Sherlock waits a moment, then leaps up beside my feet.

Maybe I’ll read while I try to finish that coffee and wake myself up a little bit.

I bring Sherlock to my chest as I roll onto my side. He curls right under my chin. His purr is like a soothingly soft motor and I fall back asleep before even attempting to find a book.

The thundering buzz of my phone on the table startles me awake. I lift my head, ready to give Nora my worst when I see the name at the top of the screen. My heart knots but I still answer with the stiff greeting I’ve turned into habit.

“Hello, this is Sophia.”

“Sophia?” The sound of his voice makes my chest twist and knot all over again.

“Yes?”

“This is Noah,” he says, far more composed than I am.

“Hey! Sorry, I just stepped out of the shower.”

“That’s okay. Should I call back in ten?”

I instantly regret my choice of excuse. “No, I’m really glad you called, I’ve been wanting to apologize for last night.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“You’re right, I guess I should be saying thank you.” I pause. I haven’t actually thought about how to word the thoughts ricocheting around my head. “Thank you for stepping in when you did.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say, and as I do, I can’t even feel the bruise on my temple anymore. I don’t even know whether it became a bruise or not, God knows I haven’t looked in a mirror today. “But really. And I want to thank you on behalf of my friend Nora, too. That guy had an interest in her that was… well… nearing illegal, I guess.”

“Didn’t I tell you he was batting out of his league?”

I shouldn’t think it’s funny, but I do. And I don’t conceal my laugh.

Noah chuckles too. “You can tell your friend she owes me one, though,” he says. “And not for the punch.”

“Yeah, I’m really sorry about that. Nora is… she’s not shy for attention. That’s for sure.”

He chuckles again. “As long as you promise you’re not hurt.”

“I promise.” I smile until I remember he can’t see it.

I’m about to muster my best attempt at small talk when Noah says, “I think I can probably find a way for you to make it up to me. You know… if you really are sorry.”

“Oh yeah?” Already I can feel my heart beating faster. “And what’s that?”

“Well,” he pauses for effect. “There’s a chance I’ll forgive you if you let me take you to dinner.”

Elation floods my veins. “Oh, really? Just a chance, huh?”

“I don’t know. People have bet on less.” His tone is dripping with sarcasm.

My smile’s so wide that it’s aching my cheeks. “Well, you’ve got yourself a deal.”