Stephen Wayland paced around his bedroom, staring down at his phone as though it would ring if he willed it hard enough. Where was Tessa, and why wouldn’t she return his calls? He knew something strange was going on with her, but it had hit fever pitch when he’d received her text message. Despite his many attempts to text and call her back, she hadn’t responded. He wondered if he should call the police, but he realized how silly it would sound. It had only been a few hours since he’d heard from her, after all, and the police would have no reason to take any of this seriously. No. He couldn’t call the police about it yet.

Stephen, if something happens to me, it isn’t an accident. xoxo, Tessa.

The text could be a joke, right? No. Stephen shook his head. No joke. Not with Tessa, and not with all the weirdness lately.

He wasn’t in love with Tessa. He was certain that she wasn’t in love with him. They’d been dating for a few months now, but the only reason they were still together was because it was easy and comfortable—and because Prom was fast approaching and it didn’t seem right to break up before that. He cared about her, he admired her amazing talent, and she made him laugh with her quirky approach to life. He found himself playing the role of an older brother—looking out for her, taking responsibility for her. But the sparks were long gone, if they’d even really ever been there.

He heard a noise at his window. “Tessa!” he called out. He unlocked the window and slid the panel open, but she wasn’t there. “Tessa?” he called again, leaning out. The bushes rustled below him. “Who’s there?” he yelled. He held out his phone, hoping that the light from the screen would help him to see better. But with the sudden rush of adrenaline his body was shaking and his hands were sweaty, and the phone immediately slipped out of his hands and landed on the ground.

“Ugh!” What should he do now? He couldn’t go down there. Someone was there and he decided he’d rather not have any crazy encounters—he was a musician, not a prize fighter. He would just have to retrieve his phone in the morning. It didn’t look like Tessa would be calling him back tonight anyway.

He relocked the window and climbed into bed, deciding that the only thing left for him to do was get some sleep. “It was probably all my imagination,” he thought. “And surely Tessa is just fine.” Still, as he lay there in the silence, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched.