Our story begins not with a chance meeting, but with a plate of cookies. One day after work, I came home to find a plate of cookies sitting outside my apartment door with a note that read: “Welcome to the 11th floor! From Nick & Nate, Apt. 1115.” Naturally, I did what any reasonable person would do—I sent a picture to my family group chat. They all told me to throw the cookies away since I had never actually met these guys. I tossed the cookies in the garbage and returned the plate with a simple note: “Thanks! – Demi, Apt. 1112.” For three whole months, I never once saw Nick or Nate. The “cookie boys,” as they became known, remained a complete mystery. One night, after my girlfriend and I got home from the bars, we heard music coming from Apt. 1115. Fueled by a little liquid courage, we decided to walk down the hall and finally introduce ourselves to my neighbors. Nick answered the door and generously invited us in to hang out with his friends. At that time I was kind of surprised he was inviting us in without knowing us, but if you know Nick, you know he always has an open door policy. Within the first 10 minutes of being there, I had mentioned to Nick that after a night out on the town my shoes gave me blisters. Without hesitation, Nick grabbed two Band-Aids, sat down on the floor with me, and carefully bandaged my bloody pinky toes. I immediately picked up my phone and sent a video to my friends saying "my cute neighbor bandaging up my toes". I never really left his side after that night—and the rest is history.