The Dream Lover Who Followed Her Out

Elowen's POV

When my roommate Sutton woke up from a wet dream, she was literally glowing. She claimed it was the most mind-blowing romantic experience of her life—the man’s silhouette, his scent, his body heat felt impossibly real.

Even crazier? When she checked her phone, there was a strange new number saved in her contacts. It belonged to the man from her dream.

While the rest of us shrieked about destiny, our moody roommate Jessamine just stared at the screen and dropped a chilling warning: "Things that come looking for you in dreams should stay buried."

We all wrote her off as a jealous freak.

That is, until I started noticing Sutton’s face growing more haggard by the day—and the fact that her "perfect boyfriend" refused to speak a single word to her.

"It wasn't just a dream, Elowen. I swear, I could smell the pine and sea salt on him. Even his body heat felt real."

Sutton sat cross-legged on her bed in Room 415, her honey-blonde hair a messy tangle—a look she'd never usually let anyone see. She gripped her phone, her blue-green eyes burning with a manic energy, her chest heaving.

"It was so vivid. It felt like my soul was ripped open and sewn back together. But this is the craziest part." She shoved her phone in my face. Sitting in her Notes app was a 10-digit number. "When I woke up, this was just there. I didn't type it in."

"Holy shit! That’s straight out of a novel!" Tatum hopped off her bed and peered at the screen. "It’s totally fate! Did you text him?"

As the quiet one in the room, I pulled my baggy sweater tighter and offered a weak, "Maybe it’s meant to be."

"Meant to be?"

A cold voice instantly sucked all the warmth from the room.

It was Jessamine, the outcast of our dorm. Her pale face emerged from the shadows of her bed curtain, her pitch-black eyes locked on Sutton.

"Things that come looking for you in dreams should stay buried," she said, her voice completely flat. "You have no idea what the hell is actually on the other end of that screen."

The excitement in the room died instantly.

Sutton rolled her eyes aggressively and scoffed. "Thanks for the creepy tip, Wednesday Addams, but I’m texting him tonight."

By the afternoon, Jessamine had left for class, leaving just the three of us.

"He texted back!" Sutton gasped, staring at her iMessages. "He just sent a picture on Instagram... Oh my god, he looks exactly like he did in the dream!"

Tatum squealed and pounced on the bed. I couldn't help but lean in too. The man on the screen had a sharp, pale jawline, striking features, and ashen-blue eyes that pulled you in like a magnet.

"He is a total ten!" Tatum was practically drooling. "Send it to the group chat. Now!"

Smug, Sutton forwarded it to our "Hathorne 415" chat.

We were still admiring his flawless face when a new message popped up in the thread.

Jessamine: [Why did you send a picture of a dead man to the chat?]

The text hit like a bloody ice pick, shattering the good vibes.

"What the fuck?!" Sutton exploded. She held down the audio message button and screamed, "What is actually wrong with you?! If you’re jealous I got a hot guy, just say it! Drop the psycho-bitch act!"

Two seconds later, Jessamine’s calm, typed reply surfaced:

Jessamine: [It's the truth. Look at his face. There's no life in it. He is literally a corpse. If you don't want to die, delete his number.]

Sutton slammed her phone onto the mattress. "Living with this freak is a nightmare!"

"Ignore her, Sutton!" Tatum hugged her, rolling her eyes at the ceiling. "She's just a miserable psycho who can't stand seeing you happy. A dead man? He’s pure sex on legs!"

I stared at the smirk on the man’s face in the photo. A sudden, inexplicable chill ran down my spine—but in the end, I kept my mouth shut.