That’s enough procrastination, I told myself sternly. Time to get out of bed.

I was just setting down my phone when it buzzed with a text message from Cat: Lunch?

I hesitated. Cat had been really weird lately. She seemed incredibly invested in my accepting Max’s invitation for a second date, so much so that it had made me a bit hesitant to respond. Was there some history between the two of them that I didn’t know about?

I sighed and pressed a hand to my tired eyes, promising myself I would text her later.

I REALLY SHOULD HAVE followed Nick’s advice to buy a coffeemaker, I thought as I finally left my apartment, still feeling bleary and disoriented. As I swung open the gate, I noticed the empty cardboard box I’d stumbled on last night was still on the lawn. I leaned over to grab it for the recycling and paused, noticing for the first time that my name was scrawled across the top in thick, black letters.

I crouched to investigate and gently lifted one of the unsealed flaps. Flower stems. The box wasn’t empty after all. I smiled, thinking back to the beautiful orange blooms I’d found on my gate last month. My secret admirer had returned. I eagerly tossed open the other flap and froze. Stupefied, I stared at the contents.

Someone had decapitated the entire bouquet.

ACROSS THE TABLE from me at Sweetgreen, Cat’s jaw hung open as she stared at a picture of the flowerless bouquet on my phone. That morning, I had snapped a photo and then promptly disposed of the stems—box and all—in the dumpster behind my building. As the heavy lid slammed shut, I’d felt eyes on me and looked up to see the dark curtains in Unit 1 swaying. Anger flooded my body as I imagined Ryan standing behind them, laughing to himself about scaring me with his childish prank. I’d thrown an infuriated double-middle-finger salute at his window and stormed away, already reaching for my phone to text Cat that we were on for lunch.

I’d barely waited for her to sit down with her salad before I thrust my phone in her face.

“Wow,” she finally said. “That’s intense.”

“Right? Headless flowers? I’m totally creeped out.”

“Is there any chance this was just trash that somehow got kicked toward your door?”

“Nope,” I said, shaking my head firmly. “They were in a box labeled ‘Audrey.’ They were for me.”

“That’s so disturbing,” Cat said, her thin shoulders shuddering. “What kind of person would do something like that?”

“Well, my landlord’s dirtbag grandson, Ryan, is the obvious suspect. He was lurking around when I got home from work last night, and he watched me throw the box away this morning.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“It’s just that … Ryan is more of a ring-the-buzzer-until-it-breaks kind of creep. This feels more calculated.” I toyed with my fork. “You know, I can’t help but wonder about my colleague Lawrence.”

“I still think you should report that guy to HR. I know you’re worried—”