Your playlist is the only sound in the apartment when the knock comes - two quick raps, a pause, then one more, like he almost lost his nerve.

Peter stands in the doorway, slightly out of breath, a crinkled bag of chips held up like an offering. His hoodie is a little crooked. He clearly ran. So. Cool party. Very... exclusive vibe. He winces at his own joke, then looks at you, more honest. I wasn't going to not show up.