Somewhere between sleeping and waking, Jess snuggled deeper into the comforter draped across her skin, a smile sliding across the contours of her face. It wasn't until she allowed her eyes to blink open that she saw it . . . the telltale arm encircling her body . . . her naked body. His masculine fingers were lying perilously close to her happy place. But who owned those fingers, and how exactly did they get there?

It was at that moment that Jess realized how incredibly hung over she actually felt. Her stomach felt as though a stampede of wild boars had crashed right through it. Her throat burned. Her mouth was painfully dry. And her head was screaming in abject protest.

Jess closed her eyes again, hoping irrationally that she could make the situation disappear, simply by not seeing it. But when she opened her eyes, there it was . . . the same as before. Jess had seen all those romantic comedies, where a woman wakes up, after a night of drinking, and is able to gracefully slide out of bed, without waking her still-sleeping partner. But she was realistic enough to know those moments were fake, fake, fake. So, instead of attempting to move the arm that had since traveled, and was now clutching her boob, she slid under the comforter entirely, hoping to exit the bed from its foot.

Of course, what she didn't count on was that her doing this would draw her body closer to that of her sleeping companion, as opposed to farther away . . . or that he was also be naked . . . and, apparently, very, very happy. "Please don't be Remy. Please don't be Remy. Please don't be Remy," Jess mumbled out loud from under the comforter.

"Jess, is that you?"

Jess was so startled by the voice that she sat bolt upright, causing the entire comforter to tent upward . . . kind of like the ghost costume she wore on Halloween in second-grade that caused her to bump into everything, because she cut the eye holes too small.

"No . . . it's not Jess. I'm the Ghost of Christmas Past . . . from your dream . . . oooooh ," Jess said in a deep throaty voice she hoped was sufficiently ghostly.

Seconds later, the comforter was ripped her head (so much for being ghostly), and she found herself face to face with a frustratingly smug-faced, and completely nude, Nick.

"The Ghost of Christmas Past? Really Jess? You couldn't come up with someone better than that? You do know Christmas was months ago, right?"

Jess covered her eyes with her hand. "Oh, hi Nick! Fancy meeting you here!" She said, attempting to appear casual . . . or as casual as one could be, while sitting on a bed naked with her hand covering her face.

"There's really no need to be shy, Jess. I mean, I would think that, after last night, you and I should feel completely comfortable with each other, in every way."

What the hell happened last night? Jess thought. "Oh yeah, TOTALLY COMFORTABLE," She said way too loudly . . . then she sang it. "TOTALLY COMFORTABLEEEEEE! In fact, I haven't felt this comfortable with anyone, since . . . well . . . ever . . . never ever."

Nick shook his head, and furrowed his brow. "You have no clue what happened last night, do you?"

"What? Of course, I remember! Yeah! I mean, how could I forget last night, when . . . all that . . . stuff happened," Jess fumbled, as she carefully slipped out of the bed, and moved backwards toward the door, all the while, searching the room desperately for her clothing. "I just wanted to make sure that YOU remembered."

"Oh, I remember," said Nick, trying to hide a smirk. "I remember hard."

Jess nodded slowly, trying casually to cover all her lady parts with just two hands, as she leaned against the closed bedroom door. "Really? Because I don't think you do . . . which is why you should TELL ME what happened . . . just so I know . . . that you really know. You know?"

Nick cocked his head, giving Jess his best penetrating stare, as he rose from the bed. "OK, I'll tell you what happened."

"Good," said Jess, her eyes widening as Nick began moving perilously close to her, until their faces were inches apart.

Nick then moved his hand toward Jess' face, and she felt her cheeks redden involuntarily, at the anticipated bodily contact. She held her breath . . . waiting.

"We dipped our toe in the pool of possibility," he whispered in her ear, as he reached behind her to grab the grey robe hanging on the door.

"We did? I mean, we did," Jess managed, her voice sounding oddly husky and foreign to her.

"Oh, we did," replied Nick, as he handed her the robe, his fingers brushing against hers, as the thick mound of fabric changed hands.

Jess quickly draped the robe over herself, briefly disarmed by its subtly musky smell . . . its Nick smell. Then, she skittered out the door, without another word.

"Bye Jess," Nick called after her, after the door closed behind her.

Jess stomped to the bathroom with a determined look on her face. She had some serious detective work to do. And Veronica Mars had nothing on her!

Then, she slipped on the newly washed bathroom floor, and fell on her ass . . .