“Be serious, Audrey,” she’d said, casting a withering look at me. “I work in finance and keep all my social media accounts private. Random twenty-year-old girls carrying fake designer bags aren’t going to know who I am … unless they’ve seen me on your posts.”

“Again, I say ‘so’? What do you think that girl’s going to do, other than shout your name a few times?”

“Just because she’s not dangerous doesn’t mean that someone else isn’t. People know where we live, Audrey. It isn’t safe.”

I had rolled my eyes and told her she was overreacting, but what if she was right? What if I had been too careless with my personal information, and someone was using it against me? What if the creep who had peered through my window, left those headless flowers, and been caught on the recording was a stranger? Or, more terrifying, what if it was three strangers, all of whom had found me because of what I posted?

“Audrey?” Max asked, breaking into my thoughts. “You seem like you’re someplace else.”

I caught my bottom lip with my teeth, scraping away some of the gloss. I wanted to tell Max about what I’d heard, confess how frightened it made me. There was something about him that made me feel as though I could confide in him; I knew he wouldn’t blow me off like Nick had, so quick to tell me it was nothing, or get overly dramatic about things like Cat had. I knew he wouldn’t give me a lecture about privacy or calling the police, as I was certain my sister would.

But that was just a feeling. I trusted my intuition about people, but I didn’t really know Max. What if it was too much for him? I mean, I wouldn’t blame him for walking away. What kind of person would want to date someone who was in the midst of being stalked? Or who shared so much online that random strangers might be creeping into her bedroom at night?

I opened my mouth, prepared to say something safe about being distracted by the wood-burning oven on display, but the lie stuck in my throat and suddenly I heard myself saying, “Have you ever used a sleep tracker?”

“A what?”

“A sleep tracker. It’s this app you can use to monitor your sleeping habits.” I paused, debating whether I should tell him the full truth or only say that I heard myself talking in my sleep, turn it into a funny anecdote. I met Max’s soft eyes and took a deep breath. “I’ve been using one, and I think I may have captured someone breaking into my apartment.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Needless to say, I’m a little freaked out.”

“What happened? Tell me you weren’t home at the time.”

“I was, actually,” I said with a grimace. “I slept through the whole thing, which is why I can only say that I think someone was breaking in.”

“Nothing was taken?”

You’re dreaming.