"Al? Can you please come over right now? Please! I'm begging you! . . . I heard a really freaky noise, and I'm too scared to look . . . no! I can't call the police. Just, just come over, please? . . . Oh thank you! I'll be here!"

Dawn hung up and curled her legs under her on the sofa. She'd been sitting in the apartment—just sitting there, reading a book, nothing too interesting—when a terrible sound had come from somewhere down the hall. It couldn't have been a burglar; that's not the sort of noise it was. It was more like . . . like a car backfiring, but this was inside her apartment! She'd made the mistake in the past of calling the police when she'd heard noises, and she didn't want to look a fool again. Al lived close enough; he'd be over as soon as the police would, anyhow. And besides, she had a clear run to her front door, so if anything crazy came at her, she'd be able to make a clean break and get out long before it got her. Unless it was a ghost or some sort of monster . . . in which case, she'd be dead.

Ugh! She didn't want to think about it! She had to get out! Jumping to her feet, Dawn hurried to put on her slippers and bolted out of her apartment. She could wait for Al in front of the building.

He found her pacing back and forth in front of the complex.

"What's with the slippers?" was the first thing he asked.

"My shoes were in my bedroom," she replied peremptorily. "Come on. Hurry up."

He looked a little exasperated and took hold of her arm before letting her snake back inside. "Hang on a second, Dawn. I haven't talked to you in forever; you've entirely ignored me, and you just expect me to show up when you're scared?"

"You're here, aren't you? Let's not let it go to waste." She grinned nervously and tried to open the door, but he pulled her back again.

"Seriously, this is the last time I'm going to do something like this, do you understand?"

Dawn stared at him. "Why are you being so dramatic? I ask a friend for some help and this is how he treats me? Fine. You know what? Just leave. I'll go back inside and get murdered by the serial killer up there, all right? Would that make you happy?"

"Stop talking like that!" Upset, Al rubbed his hands over his head. "Just let's go up and I'll look."

Immediately relieved, Dawn grinned and pulled on his hand. "Oh, thank you! Thank you thank you thank you. Come on."

The two of them entered the building, the woman leading the man up the stairs and to her apartment. When they arrived at her door, Dawn stopped and faced him for a moment. "Do you want me to tell you what I heard?"

"No."

She was confused. "Where I heard it?"

"No. I don't care. There's probably nothing in there, anyway, but if there is, I'll find it on my own."

Al tried to move around her to open the door, but she snapped out her arms and held onto the doorframe so he couldn't get past her.

"Wait a second. You don't believe me, do you?"

He licked his lips, shrugged. "Honestly? No. You get scared a lot, Dawn. For all I know this is just some way to get me over here so you have a drinking buddy to go out with. Maybe you found some new love interest and just want me along for the ride so you don't look stupid. But then, when you find the chance to talk to him, you'll forget about me, and I'll just drink myself into a stupor and head home alone, like usual."

"I would never do that!"

"You do it all the time. Now just let me in so I can look around and get out of here."

Her words had shocked him. She'd never seen Al so angry or cynical. She didn't like this Al—she didn't know him. Had she really ignored him for weeks? It hadn't seemed like that long. Her arms now limp from astonishment, the man easily pushed past her and entered the apartment.

Dawn followed him slowly, shutting the door behind her. Al was busy looking under the furniture in the front room. She began to tell him that this room was not where the noise had come from, but he held up a hand indicating he didn't want to hear her. Disquieted, the woman followed him as he looked around the bathroom, the kitchen, and one of the spare bedrooms. She didn't know what to think. Her fear, though still somewhere inside, had been overpowered by a sense of perplexity. She wasn't quite sure what Al was so worked up about.

When he reached the last room, Al glanced at Dawn and pointed at the closed door. She nodded; this was where she'd heard the noise.

Cautiously, Al turned the knob. Dawn felt as if her heart would pop out of her ribs. Then, suddenly, Al slammed the door inward and leapt inside. His fighting momentum was stunted when he realized there was nothing at all inside—no furniture, no closet, not even an overhead light. The room was a white-walled, hardwood-floored room with a solitary window, which was fully intact. The setting sun's rays barely lit the place, but it was quite plain to see that nobody was in there.

Al looked at Dawn, and she sensed a distinct I-told-you-so flavoring his expression.

"You really should put a lamp in here or something. It's dark in this room."

"I heard it, Al! I heard it! You think I'm crazy, don't you? But it was like, this huge bang! Like something—like a gun! It sounded exactly like a shooting gun, right here in the apartment! In this room!"

He was shaking his head, unaffected by her outburst. "Maybe you should get some roommates; then you wouldn't be scared all the time." He walked out of the room and down the hall, heading toward the front room, where lamps gave the place a soft golden glow.

"Who are you, my sister?" Dawn retorted, following him with hands on her hips. "You know, I'm fine living alone. I don't need roommates. I'll get another job soon, and then I'll make enough money to afford this place."

Al turned to look at her, still pretty unaffected by any of what she was saying. "Why don't you just move into a smaller place?"

"Because I don't feel like it!"

"Because you're being difficult."

"Difficult? Difficult?" Dawn was incensed, more at appearing paranoid and at Al's lack of interest than the actual content of the conversation.

"Yes, Dawn," Al stated calmly. "You're the most difficult woman I've ever met in my life."

She stood, mouth agape, for several seconds before responding lamely, "Is that so? You think I'm a huge pain, is that it?"

"Frankly, yes."

"Well, why don't you tell me how you really feel? You know, if you think I'm so difficult, then why do you hang around, huh? I don't need friends who secretly hate me."

Al closed the several feet distancing them by walking up to the woman. He looked sincerely at her. "I don't hate you, and you know that. But I don't want to be your friend, either. You wonder why I hang around, Dawn? Do you want me to have to say it? I've seen you go after every single guy in the city, practically, every single one, no matter how ignorant or mean—"

"The last one wasn't ignorant, or mean!"

"—or unavailable—"

"Oh, well Steven was married . . ."

Al sighed, rolled his eyes at being interrupted. He put his hand over Dawn's mouth. "Just shut up for about one minute, all right? My point is, you've fallen in love with every single man out there, except for me. And I . . ." his words faltered. "I just can't take it, anymore. I'm tired of being invisible to you. Of just being your wingman. Find someone else to drag around."

He took his fingers off her lips and looked away from her. He sighed again. Dawn was speechless. She had absolutely no idea what to say. What could his words mean? Something flitted through her like a little rabbit, telling her something momentous had just happened—something not entirely concerning her but somehow connected to her—but it left her thoughts when she saw Al was opening the door to leave.

"Wait!" She held out her hand as if it could stop him, and he did halt with the door halfway open and turn to look at her again. She had his attention, but she didn't know what on earth to say! She'd never felt so nervous in her life. This was ridiculous! Thankfully, words came. "Do—do you want . . . me. . . to love you?"

Shaking his head, raising up his hands, Al was at a loss. "Dawn—I . . ."

"Because I do!" she blurted, clapping her hands over her mouth in shock.

He stared at her. Time seemed to drip like sap. "What?" Al at last said.

Dawn was terrified to repeat what she'd just said.

Al took a step closer to her. "What did you just say?"

She refused to remove her hands, so he peeled them away from her mouth for her.

A smile played about his face. "What did you say, Dawn? I didn't quite hear you."

She was breathing so heavily she thought the entire world must hear her. Her expression was so sorrowful he had to laugh. "Don't!" she demanded, and he stopped.

The smile on his face trembled. "You aren't messing around with me, are you? Because that would be—"

"No, I'm not!" she cried. Emotion rose up in her. "I said I do love you, Al! I—I don't even believe it myself, but I'm saying it, so it must be true—and—I need you. Don't you dare walk out of that door! Don't even think about it!" Tears began to well up in her eyes.

His smile widened. He was shaking his head in disbelief. Al took her face in his hands. "Don't cry! I love you, too." He kissed her.

For once in her life, Dawn felt entirely at ease.