“What the hell?” I demanded, letting my arm drop to my side. “Knock, remember?”

He blinked bloodshot eyes at me and glanced around my apartment. “I heard noises down here.”

“I don’t think so,” I said, moving to block him from entering.

He ignored me and strolled into the apartment, surveying my boxes and making his way to the kitchen.

“Hey,” I said, roughly setting the wine bottle down for emphasis. “You can’t just come in here uninvited.”

“I rang the bell,” he said as he reached one hand into the open tub of animal crackers on the counter.

“And I didn’t answer because I didn’t want guests. Or unwelcome neighbors.” I stuck out my hand. “Now give me your key to this door and show yourself out, or I’m going to call your grandmother.”

He smirked. “Hey, man, I’m just being neighborly. Checking on the new tenant and all. You’re the one who left your door unlocked.”

“Bullshit.”

“Let me give you some free advice,” he said, popping an animal cracker into his mouth. “That door and gate don’t lock automatically.”

Could that be true? I had never lived somewhere where doors didn’t lock behind me; it hadn’t occurred to me to manually secure them.

“You’re welcome,” he said, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. He put another animal cracker in his mouth and meandered toward the door. In the doorway, he turned around and gave me a toothy grin caked with partially chewed cracker. “Have a good night, neighbor.”

I shuddered. Creep. Determined not to show him how rattled I was, I made my face a stony mask and followed him out the front door. I yanked the iron gate firmly shut behind him, locked it, and gave it a good rattle to ensure it was secure.

“There you go,” he said with a condescending sneer.

I flipped him my middle finger and stepped back into my apartment. He was still watching me as I slammed the front door. My hands shook slightly as I twisted the lock until I heard its angry, satisfying click.

CHAPTER SIX CAT

After the unpleasantness that summer at Camp Blackwood, my parents sent me to a doctor who diagnosed me with social anxiety disorder. I resented the diagnosis at the time (there was nothing wrong with me), but as the panic I sometimes felt around my peers began to diminish with treatment, I was forced to admit the doctor might have been right. Eventually, I realized that, while my anxiety might’ve been more extreme than most people’s, it wasn’t unusual to feel unsettled at times. Lots of people feel tension around social interactions, and everyone gets nervous occasionally. Even people like Audrey, who hid her fears behind false bravado and a biting sense of humor, experienced anxiety sometimes.

If you’d just met Audrey, you’d think that she was unflappable. It wasn’t until I shared a room with her in the sorority house that I realized her carefree persona was just that: a persona. I started to recognize her tells, like the way her cheek sucked slightly inward when she chewed on it and how her true emotions would show briefly on her face before being remolded into a smile. I was loath to admit it, even to myself, but I found comfort in knowing that even someone like Audrey wasn’t perfect. She was a real person just like me under all that flash and charisma.