Page 9 of Don’t Watch Alone

“No. We got into a fight,” she says quietly. “But if you are busy, I don’t have to come over. It’s fine if…”

“Come over,” I cut in. “We’ll do a movie night. I could use the company.”

“Tony’s not gonna be there, right?”

“Nope. I’ll tell him it’s girls only, tonight,” I pause. “And when you get here, I’ve got a hell of a story for you.”

“Perfect,” she says. “I’ll grab some movies and head over pretty quick.”

I hang up and immediately call Tony. It goes straight to his answering machine.

“Hey, it’s me. Jade’s coming over. We are going to have a girls’ night. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

In my room, I peel off my work clothes and throw on a pair of sweats and an oversized t-shirt. I go through the motions, but my brain’s still trapped in the parking lot. In Andy’s voice. In that look he gave me—like he knew something I didn’t.

Then, a noise outside my door startles me. It’s a shuffling noise.

It can’t be Jade. She should still be ten minutes out.

I creep to the peephole.

No one. Just someone disappearing into the apartment across the hall.

I hadn’t noticed anyone move in.

“Must’ve happened while I was at work,” I mutter to myself.

I check the fridge, it’s empty, of course, so I order pizza.

Then there is a knock at the door. It’s way too soft for it to be Jade.

I open it anyway.

No one.

I glance across the hall. The blinds shift. A shape moves inside that apartment. Like they are watching me.

I slam the door and lock it again.

Then another knock. Louder this time.

I snatch it open—ready to swing my fist.

“Boo! ”

I jump so hard I almost fall over. “Jade, you bitch!”

She laughs. “Why are you so jumpy lately?”

I don’t answer. I just drag her inside.

“You know damn well why.”

She drops her bag. “What did that creep do now?”

I tell her. Everything.

She’s dead silent.

Another knock interrupts us, but this one I’m expecting.

“Pizza,” I say, already heading to the door.

Jade tosses her jacket over the arm of the couch and pulls two VHS tapes from her bag.

“Prom Night and Hotline,” she declares.

“Hell yes,” I say, forcing a grin. “Scary movies and greasy food. This is the cure for everything.”

I hand her a Coke, and we settle in front of the TV. The pizza box is already open on the coffee table, the paper plates are ready, the scent of pepperoni and garlic thick in the air.

Prom Night comes alive on the screen—grainy, warped from use, but still captivating.

Jamie Lee Curtis owns every second of it, especially the school dance scene, her body moving like she knows something the others don’t.

It’s hypnotic and eerie, that too-happy beat pounding through the speakers just before everything starts to fall apart.

“I need her dance moves,” Jade says, laughing through a mouthful of crust.

I smile, chewing on a slice, but I can’t quite relax. There’s a tight thread held tight inside me. And when the sound comes—barely there, a soft shuffling through the apartment walls—I freeze.

I mute the TV without thinking.

The silence that follows feels huge.

“What is it?”

I don’t answer right away. I just stand up, careful not to draw attention to the way my shoulders have stiffened like something’s about to happen. I walk toward the door, pressing my ear against it, listening .

More silence.

Then, just as I’m about to ignore it as my imagination, the door across the hall closes quietly.

I glance through the peephole. Nothing. Just the glow of hallway lights.

I wait another moment before turning around.

“Probably nothing. Just someone heading in or out.”

Jade watches me like she doesn’t believe me, but she doesn’t push. I sit back down, grab the remote, and unmute the movie. The screaming resumes, but it doesn’t hit the same this time. The moment’s broken. My pizza’s cold. The Coke tastes flat.

My eyes keep returning to the door.

Something’s off.

It’s not just that someone moved in. It’s the way the door closed. The way the blinds shifted earlier. Like whoever’s in there knows I saw them. Like they wanted me to.

I need to figure out who that is. Tomorrow or maybe sooner.

** *

The second movie is halfway over when Jade finally speaks up, her voice soft like she’s not sure she should say it.

“You think he’s still watching you?”

I don’t have to ask who she means.

“I don’t know,” I say, because it’s the truth. “But it feels like it.”

She nods, picking at the crust of her third slice. “I swear, if he shows up again, I’ll bring Derrick’s bat next time.”

I smile at that, but it’s meaningless.

Another noise.

This one seems closer.

Both of us freeze, with our heads cocked.

But it’s just the fridge kicking on. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself.

I change into socks and tuck my feet up under me, trying to bury myself in the safety of my apartment—Jade’s laughter, horror clichés, VHS static. But my mind won’t stop replaying his words .

November 9th. Something bad is going to happen.

And the way he said it—almost like he was scared for me. Not trying to intimidate or manipulate. Like a warning he had to give.

Like a secret he shouldn’t have shared.