"Um, Selena, wait," Freddie stammers, his face burning a shade of crimson that rivals a stop sign.

He gently pulls back, scrambling to grab the thick comforter from the foot of his bed. "We need to cover you up. You’re... uh... completely exposed."

Selena tilts her head, looking down at herself with mild curiosity, as if she’s surprised to see a body there at all. "Oh. I suppose I am. Is that a problem? You’ve seen my pixel art in a bikini plenty of times."

"Real life is different! Very different!" Freddie yelps, draping the blanket over her shoulders and wrapping her up like a human burrito. "There. Warm. Safe. Decent."

Just as Freddie lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, three loud, sharp raps echo from the front door of his apartment.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

"Freddie? Frederick Wilson! I heard a crash and screaming! Is everything alright in there?"

Freddie freezes. "Oh no. Oh god, no."

"Who is that?" Selena asks, her voice ringing out clearly in the sudden silence.

Freddie’s eyes widen. "Shhh! Keep your voice down!" He whispers frantically, waving his hands around. "That’s Mrs. Gable from 4B. She has hearing like a bat and the gossip network of a small town."

"Why do we have to whisper?" Selena asks, tilting her head again, the blanket slipping slightly off her shoulder. "I want to meet your neighbors."

"No, no meeting! Hiding! You need to hide!" Freddie grabs Selena by her blanket-wrapped shoulders and tries to steer her toward his closet.

Selena plants her feet—which Freddie now notices are perfectly manicured—and refuses to budge. "Hide? Why? I just got here, Freddie! I don’t want to go into the dark box. I spent my whole existence in a dark box until you logged on!"

"Please, Selena! Just for five minutes! If she sees you—naked, in my room, after a power surge—she’s going to call the cops or my mom, and I’m not sure which is worse!"

Bang. Bang.

"Freddie! Open up or I’m using the spare key your mother gave me!" Mrs. Gable’s voice sounds more determined.

"I'm coming! Just... putting on pants!" Freddie screams toward the door. He looks at Selena with pleading eyes. "Please?"

Selena puffs out her cheeks, a distinct animation-style pout on her real face. "Fine. But you owe me."

She steps into the closet amongst his hoodies and old sneakers. Freddie slams the door shut, kicks a pile of laundry in front of it to make it look casual, and sprints to the front door. He takes a deep breath, tries to fix his messy hair, and swings the door open.

Mrs. Gable, a tiny woman in a floral nightgown with curlers in her gray hair, stands there clutching a heavy wooden cane like a weapon. She peers past him into the dim apartment.

"What on earth is going on in here, boy? It sounded like a wrestling match. And the lights were flickering like a disco."

"Oh, hi Mrs. Gable," Freddie laughs nervously, leaning against the doorframe to block her view. "Yeah, just... the storm, you know? The thunder... it startled me. I fell out of bed. Took a lamp with me. Clumsy me. Ha. Ha."

Mrs. Gable narrows her eyes behind her thick glasses. "You fell out of bed and screamed 'Holy crap she's real'?"

Freddie sweats profusely. "I... was watching a movie? A horror movie. Very realistic special effects."

"In the dark? During a power surge?" She tries to peer around his shoulder. "I smell something. Did you blow a fuse?"

"Just a little pop! Nothing to worry about—"

Creak.

Freddie freezes. The sound came from behind him. He slowly turns his head to see the closet door swing open. Selena stands there, the blanket draped regally around her like a Roman toga, looking unimpressed with the closet accommodations.

"It smells like dirty socks in there, Freddie," Selena announces. She walks right past a petrified Freddie and waves at the old woman. "Hello. I am Sassy_Selena... uh... just Selena."

Mrs. Gable’s jaw drops. She looks at Selena, then at Freddie, then back at Selena.

Freddie closes his eyes, waiting for the lecture. Here it comes. The shame. The accusation of kidnapping. The call to the police.

"She’s... uh... she’s..." Freddie’s brain misfires. "She’s a foreign exchange student! From... the Internet? No, Iceland! Her luggage got lost! That’s why she’s wearing a blanket!"

Mrs. Gable ignores Freddie completely. She looks Selena up and down, noting the wet hair (from the humidity, presumably) and the bare feet. Then, a slow, wide grin spreads across her wrinkled face. She lets out a cackling laugh and slaps Freddie on the arm hard enough to leave a mark.

"Well, I’ll be damned!" she chuckles. "You actually have a girl in here!"

"I... what?" Freddie blinks, confused.

"I was worried about you, Frederick," Mrs. Gable says, leaning in with a conspiratorial whisper. "Always in here alone, talking to that computer screen day and night. I thought you were one of those weirdos who was going to die alone with a collection of dolls. But look at you! Sneaking in a pretty girl during a thunderstorm!"

She gives him a thumbs up.

"I— uh—"

"Don't you worry, I won't tell your mother," Mrs. Gable winks. "You kids have fun. But keep it down, eh? My stories are on in the morning."

She turns and shuffles back down the hallway, humming to herself.

Freddie stands in the doorway, dumbfounded, while Selena walks up beside him and watches the neighbor leave.

"She seems nice," Selena says cheerfully. "She thinks we are having fun."

Freddie slides down the doorframe until he hits the floor, burying his face in his hands. "I am going to have a heart attack before this night is over."