“After Ben leaves, I head back upstairs to my room, only to find Dad in the kitchen. He has his back toward me, sneaking a bag of Bugles from one of the baskets above the cabinets.“Caught you,” I say, switching on the light, making him jump.“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” he asks, keeping his voice low.“Shouldn’t you?” I give him a pointed look.“Probably, but your mom actually feel asleep tonight—probably the first night all week. Meanwhile, I’m too hungry to nod off.”“So, where does that leave us?” I ask, eyeing his bag of Bugles.“Can you be trusted?”“That depends. Are you willing to share?” I smile. “Good hiding spot, by the way. Nobody ever uses those baskets.”“That’s what you think.” He gazes down the hall to make sure the coast is clear and then snags a bag of Hershey’s Kisses from one of the other four overhead baskets.We park ourselves at the kitchen island and rip both bags open. Five full minutes of lusty devouring pass before either of us speaks.”

“He fakes a smile and then turns to unlock the door.I follow him inside; he stops me at the kitchen island. “I found it right here.” He points to the countertop.“You found what right where?” I ask, feeling my face scrunch up in bewilderment.“The crossword puzzle from today.” He pulls it out of his pocket. “I found it here when I was making breakfast this morning.”“Wait, you didn’t get it in the mail?”“I’m sorry; I thought I mentioned that.”“No,” I say, holding back from whacking him in the head. “I think I would’ve remembered if someone had broken into your apartment.“I’m sorry,” he repeats, and then lets out a stress-filled sigh.“So, someone broke in here last night while you were asleep?”“I’m not sure. I was thinking that, too, but then . . . what if I just didn’t see it last night when I got home?”“Are you sure you didn’t set your mail down here, maybe even for a second, and then leave this piece behind?”“What difference does it makes?”“It makes a huge difference.” My voice gets louder. “The difference between someone breaking in or not.” I peer around the kitchen and living room, trying to see if anything looks off.“I don’t know.” He reaches for a box of cereal. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I would’ve noticed getting another puzzle in the mail, especially since we’ve been talking so much about this stuff.”“Who has a key to your apartment?”“No one that I know of.”“None of your friends? Did you leave a spare under the doormat, maybe?”“No, and no.”“Then what?” I ask, completely frustrated.“Look,” he says, running his fingers through his shaggy brown hair. “I don’t have all the answers. That’s why it’s a puzzle.”“This isn’t funny,” I tell him. “Someone’s sending you threatening notes, writing twisted messages on your door, and possibly breaking into your apartment. Worrying isn’t an option. It’s an order.”“So what do you order me to do?”“Call the police.”“And tell them what? That someone’s sending me crossword puzzles? That I got an angry message on my door, but I didn’t even feel the need to save it? They’ll give me a Breathalyzer test and ask me what I’ve been drinking.”

“What’s the verdict?” Kimmie asks, peering back at me.I stare down at the jumble of words. “I can’t quite tell yet.”“Give us a clue,” Wes says. “I love puzzles.”“That’s because you are one,” Kimmie jokes.I read them the list of words: ARE, ALONE, YOU, NEVER, EYE, WATCHING, ALWAYS, AM.Not five seconds later, Wes has the whole thing figured out. “YOU ARE NEVER ALONE. EYE AM ALWAYS WATCHING!” he says, making his voice all deep and throaty.“Wait, seriously?” I ask, completely bewildered by the idea that he’d be able to unravel the message so quickly. I look at the individual words, making sure they’re all included, and that he didn’t add any extra.“What can I say? I’m good at puzzles.”“Are you good at making them, too?” Kimmie asks. “Because it’s a little scary how you were able to figure that out so fast.”“Do you think it matters that the “eye” in the puzzle is the noun and not the pronoun?” I ask them.“Since when is it a requirement for psychos to be good in English?” Wes asks.“Only you would know.” Kimmie glares at him.“Plus, it’s a puzzle,” he says, ignoring her comment. “You have to expect a few quirks.”“I don’t know,” I say, still staring at the words. “Maybe there’s some other message here. Maybe we need to try unscrambling it another way.”“Such as ‘EYE AM NEVER ALONE. YOU ARE ALWAYS WATCHING,’” he suggests. “Or perhaps the ever-favorite. ‘YOU ARE NEVER WATCHING. EYE AM ALWAYS ALONE.’”Kimmie scoots farther away from him in her seat. “Okay, you really are starting to scare me.”

“Oh, and because I don’t have a dating history as big as your mouth, it doesn’t quite measure up?” he asks.“I hate to break this to you, but that isn’t the only thing of yours that doesn’t measure up.” She waggles her pinkie at him.“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He grins.“I think I’m all set,” I interrupt, zipping up my bag.“Don’t forget this.” Still cuddling my sweater, Wes purrs a couple of times before tossing it my way.“Yeah, I can’t imagine why your dad thinks of you as feminine,” Kimmie mocks.”

“On the drive home, Adam glances at me several times, clearly wanting to talk about what’s happened.But I can barely look up from the door latch.Exactly six pain-filled minutes later, he pulls over at the corner of my street and puts the car in park. “Do you hate me?” he asks.“More like I hate myself.”“Yeah.” He sighs. “Kissing me tends to have that effect on women.”“That’s not what I meant.”“Don’t worry about it,” he says, still trying to make light of the situation. “It’s my fault. It won’t happen again.”“I let it happen.”“Yes, but only because you couldn’t help yourself. I must admit, I’m far too irresistible for my own good.”“I wouldn’t go that far.” I can’t help but smile.”

“To my complete and utter surprise, the writing on his door is gone.Vanished.“What happened?” I ask.It takes him a second before he realizes what I’m asking. “I washed it off,” he explains.“You what?”“I wasn’t going to, but I didn’t want the super to give me a hard time. Plus, I thought it might freak out some of my neighbors. You have to admit, death threats on doors can be pretty offensive, generally speaking. Not to mention the sheer fact that it made me look like a total asshole—like some old girlfriend was trying to get even.”“Did you take pictures at least?”“Actually, no.” He cringes. “That probably would’ve been a good idea.”“But Tray saw the writing, right?”“Um . . .” He nibbles his lip, clearly reading my angst.“You told me he was with you last night. You said you called him.”“I tried, but he didn’t pick up, and I didn’t want you to worry.”“So, you lied?” I snap.“I didn’t want you to worry,” he repeats. “Please, don’t be upset.”“How can I not be? We’re talking about your life here. You can’t go erasing evidence off your door. And you can’t be lying to me, either. How am I supposed to help you if you don’t tell me the truth?”“Why are you helping me?” he asks, taking a step closer. “I mean, I’m grateful and all, and you know I love spending time with you, be it death-threat missions or pizza and a movie. It’s just . . . what do you get out of it? What’s this sudden interest in my life?”My mouth drops open, but I manage a shrug, almost forgetting the fact that he knows nothing about my premonitions.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask, stepping out of the car.“Waiting for you.” He closes the car door behind me. “I called you earlier and your mom said you’d be home around nine. You’re two minutes early.”“Should I go away and come back?”“What do you think?” he asks, encircling my waist with his arms.”