Page 11 of While You Sleep

I tried to watch the movie while I waited, but when my phone lit up, nervous excitement raced through me for some stupid reason.

Dean: Good to know. You’re also seriously fucking stunning, Soph.

I was glad he couldn’t see me because my face went hot. Dean thought I was stunning. My nerves increased as I typed out my reply.

Me: Your turn.

It doesn’t matter what he looks like, you’re just friends. I told myself that repeatedly, but when his reply came, nerves exploded in my belly. I squinted, too scared to look as I clicked the message open.

I sat up straight, sucking in a breath.

I stared down at his picture in shock and—awe. It was him. Dean was the guy from the bar. The one I’d walked into outside the ladies’ room.

He was sitting back on a leather couch, wearing dark pants and no shirt. Tattoos covered most of his lean, muscled chest and arms, and his bright green eyes stared back at me, clear and gorgeous. He had a slight tilt to his sensual lips. The short beard was a little thicker now, his hair falling over one side of his brow.

Me: It’s you.

Dean: It’s me.

Me: We talked that night in the bar, and you’ve never said anything.

Dean: I don’t think you missed I was checking you out that night, Soph. Didn’t want you to think I was some stalker. We okay?

Were we? He’d kept who he was from me, yes. But he also hadn’t been creepy or pushy. He’d been a friend to me and nothing more. Brian aside, I was usually a pretty good judge of character.

Me: We’re okay.

My phone dinged again, but it wasn’t Dean this time.

Brian: I’m here, let me up. We need to talk face-to-face.

Me: Go home.

Brian: Let me the fuck up now, Sophia. You don’t let me up, I’ll find my own way up, I promise you that. But I’ll be a lot less pissed if you do it right the fuck now.

What the hell was going on? Why was he acting like this?

Brian: NOW!

Fear shot through me, and without thinking, I hit Dean’s number. He answered instantly.

“Soph, hey.”

“I’m sorry to call like this, but Brian’s here. He’s downstairs and he’s really angry. Demanding that I let him up. I’m scared.” A normal person would call the police, but that wasn’t done, not in my world. We were told from a young age never to call the cops, but there was no way in hell I could call my father, I’d be signing Brian’s death warrant if I did.

“Barricade your door and don’t open it to anyone but me. I’m on my way.”

He didn’t disconnect, he said something to someone else. It was muffled, and I didn’t hear what it was. I put Dean on speaker as messages kept coming thick and fast from Brian. He was so angry, and the things he was saying were seriously fucked up.

“Talk to me, Soph,” Dean said. “What’s happening?”

“He’s texting a lot of threats, but he’s still on the street.”

The sound of an engine revving came through the phone. “I’m not far away. Be there in five.”

I walked to the window and peered down. Brian was pacing, his phone to his ear. He was trying to call me. His name kept coming up on my screen while I talked to Dean, and I kept rejecting it.

Mr. Blake from the floor below was walking toward the building, and I watched, horrified as the rage on Brian’s face slipped away and what I now knew was a mask slid into place, hiding what a deranged creep he truly was. He smiled at the older man and said something to him, laughing. Mr. Blake laughed as well and opened the door letting him straight in.

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