Chloe grabbed her phone and checked the screen. Three messages from Alexis in their group chat with Kumiko.

Alexis: omg did you see Madison’s story

Alexis: she hooked up with Tyler at the party last night

Alexis: TYLER. can you believe

Chloe locked her phone without responding. "Sorry. Group chat."

"It’s fine."

But the spell was broken. The charged atmosphere had dissolved into regular air. Jordan looked back at the TV. Chloe did the same.

The credits were rolling.

Two hours had passed somehow. The sun had shifted outside the windows. Late afternoon light filtered through the blinds.

Chloe’s chest felt tight. Like she’d missed something important. Like she’d been standing at the edge of a cliff and backed away at the last second.

"Did the happy movie work?" Jordan asked.

"What?"

"Your mom’s trick. Do you still feel traumatized from the stalker movie?"

Chloe thought about it. The fear from earlier had faded. Replaced by something else entirely. Something that made her stomach feel warm and her pulse race.

"Yeah," she said. "I think it worked."

Jordan smiled. "Good."

He started to stand. Chloe’s hand shot out before she could stop herself. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist.

Jordan froze.

"You should probably check my apartment," Chloe said quickly. "For killers. Like you offered earlier."

Jordan looked down at her hand on his wrist. Then at her face. "You serious?"

"Dead serious. I’m not checking that loft closet by myself."

"You know there’s no one up there."

"Probably not. But better safe than sorry."

Jordan’s mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. "Okay. I’ll check."

Chloe released his wrist and stood up. The blanket fell away from her legs. Jordan’s gaze dropped for half a second before snapping back to her face.

Her shorts had ridden up even higher. She pulled them down slightly. Not that it helped much.

"The loft first," she said. "Then the bathroom. Then I don’t know. Wherever else killers might hide."

"Under the kitchen sink?"

"Don’t be a smartass."

Jordan laughed and headed toward the stairs. Chloe followed behind him. Watching the way his shoulders moved under his white shirt. The way his sweatpants hung low on his hips.

Stop looking.

They climbed the stairs to the loft. Chloe’s bedroom was exactly as she’d left it. Bed made. Pillows arranged. Ring light standing in the corner like a silent witness.

Jordan walked to the closet and pulled it open. Clothes hung in organized rows. Shoes lined the bottom. A few storage boxes on the top shelf.

"All clear," he said.

"Check behind the hanging clothes."

"Chloe."

"I’m serious."

Jordan sighed and pushed the clothes aside. Nothing but wall. "See? No killers."

"Under the bed next."

They walked to the bed. Jordan crouched down and lifted the bed skirt. Chloe crouched next to him. Their shoulders touched.

Empty space stretched under the frame. A few dust bunnies. A phone charger she’d lost three weeks ago.

"Anything?" Chloe asked.

"Just dust."

"Okay. Bathroom now."

They stood and headed to the bathroom attached to the loft. Jordan checked behind the shower curtain. In the cabinet under the sink. Inside the linen closet.

Nothing.

"You’re safe," Jordan said. "No psycho killers lurking in your apartment."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

Chloe nodded. But she didn’t move toward the stairs. She just stood there in her bathroom with Jordan three feet away. His hair was still slightly damp from his earlier shower. He smelled like clean soap and something else. Something warm.

"Thanks," she said. "For checking."

"No problem."

Silence stretched between them. Heavy. Thick.

"I should probably go," Jordan said.

"Yeah. Probably."

Neither of them moved.

Jordan’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and checked the screen. His expression shifted. Some emotion Chloe couldn’t identify.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

"Yeah. Just the System."

"The what?"

Jordan’s eyes widened slightly. "Nothing. I mean. My mom. She’s been texting all day."

"Oh."

He pocketed his phone. "I really should go though. Let you have your apartment back."

"Right. Yeah."

They walked back downstairs together. Jordan grabbed his slides from near the door. Chloe stood with her arms crossed. Suddenly very aware of how little clothing she was wearing.

Jordan opened the door. Then paused. "Hey. For what it’s worth? I had fun."

Chloe’s face heated. "Me too."

"So we’re friends now? Officially?"

"I don’t know if neighbors who watch horror movies together automatically qualify as friends."

"What do they qualify as?"

Chloe’s heart hammered against her ribs. "I’ll let you know when I figure it out."

Jordan smiled. Actually smiled. Not a smirk or a half-grin but something genuine. "Okay. Let me know."

He stepped into the hallway. Chloe watched him walk the twelve feet to his own door. He unlocked it. Turned back.

"Text me if you get scared," he said.

"I’m not going to get scared."

"Offer stands anyway."

Then he disappeared into Unit 404.

Chloe closed her door. Locked it. Put on the chain.

Her apartment felt too quiet without him in it. Too empty. Like the air pressure had dropped or the walls had moved in closer.

She walked to the couch and collapsed face-first into the cushions where Jordan had been sitting just moments before. His warmth still lingered in the fabric. That clean soap smell. The weight of his presence somehow still pressed into the cushion even though he was gone.

Her phone buzzed against the coffee table. Chloe reached for it without lifting her face from the couch.

A notification from the group chat lit up the screen. Alexis asking where she was. Why she wasn’t responding. Three messages in a row. Each one more demanding than the last.

Chloe swiped the notification away without opening it.

Instead she opened her messages and stared at Jordan’s contact. The one she’d saved yesterday after their spontaneous hallway conversation.

What was she doing?

This was insane. He was a subscriber. A client. Someone who had paid three thousand dollars to spend forty-five minutes with her in a public restaurant while she wore a mask and sunglasses and pretended they’d never met before. Someone whose transaction history on her OnlyFans account went back months. Someone who had commented on her posts. Sent her tips. Bought custom content.

But also.

He was Jordan. The guy who checked her apartment for killers hiding behind her shower curtain and under her bed. Who made fun of terrible horror movie logic with perfect timing. Who said he’d protect her and somehow made it sound like a statement of fact instead of an empty promise.

The guy who sat on her couch and respected the two-cushion gap and didn’t try to close it once during the entire movie.

The guy who smiled at her like she was just Chloe.

Just her.

Her thumbs moved before her brain could catch up and stop them.

Chloe: jordan?

She stared at the screen. Her heart hammered against her ribs so hard she could feel the pulse in her throat.

Three dots appeared immediately. He was already typing.

Chloe’s stomach flipped.

The dots disappeared.

Reappeared.

Disappeared again.

She pictured him standing in his apartment twelve feet away. Phone in his hand. Staring at her message. Trying to figure out what to say.

The dots came back.

Jordan: yeah?

Chloe bit her bottom lip. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard again.

This was stupid. She wasn’t actually scared. The movie had been ridiculous. Laughable. She’d made fun of it for ninety minutes straight.

But her apartment felt too big now. Too quiet. Too full of shadows that could hide things that probably weren’t there but might be.

And maybe she just wanted an excuse.

Chloe: i’m scared