He Sees You When You’re Sleeping: A Dark and Steamy Holiday Romance of Obsession and Secrets – Where Desire Meets Danger in the Heart of NYC

I don’t know why I was hoping to see Jack today at the cafe—maybe on his way to work, but I was. Disappointment sinks in as I scan the familiar faces, none of them his. I stir my latte absently, watching the foam swirl into intricate patterns. The chatter and clinking of cups fade into background noise as my mind wanders.

I find an empty table by the window, pulling out my own computer to edit some new videos. But I can’t focus. My gaze keeps darting to the door every time the bell chimes, hoping it will be him walking in.

Thirty minutes pass, then an hour. The latte grows cold beside me, barely touched. I scold myself for wasting so much time pining over someone who clearly isn’t interested. Jack and I had barely spoken, mostly small talk and mostly about work. Yet something about his easy smile and the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed has wormed its way into my heart.

But is he really my type? After my last boyfriend, I swore to myself that I’d steer clear of vanilla, and something about Mr. Fireman screams vanilla. For the same reasons I had zero interest in Tyler, I should feel the same about Jack. I’m ready for something . . . spicier.

As if on cue, my phone rings and I see it’s Tyler calling me. Why not text? At least I’d have time to think of ways to politely reject his advances. I don’t want to answer, but he is technically one of my bosses so I reluctantly answer the call, steeling myself. “Hello, Tyler.”

“How’s my favorite influencer?” His voice is jovial, but there’s an undercurrent of something else. Expectation, maybe.

I know the only way I can move forward with Tyler is act like our last exchange wasn’t as awkward and unsettling as it was. I need to work with this man.

I force a light tone. “Oh, you know, trying to get some work done in my favorite café. What’s up?”

“Yeah, I see you.”NôvelDrama.Org © content.

I scan the room quickly. Huh? How does he see me?

“Well, I was hoping to catch you in person, and I remembered how you often come into the office with your coffee and I remembered it was Pete’s Cafe. I’m actually right outside. Mind if I join you?”

My stomach drops. This is . . . weird. I glance out the window and spot him on the sidewalk, phone to his ear, waving at me with a grin.

“Um, sure,” I manage, ending the call as he pushes through the door.

Tyler saunters over, all confidence and cologne. He slides into the chair across from me, his eyes roving over my face in a way that makes me want to squirm.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he says with a wink.

I muster a weak smile. “Yeah, what a coincidence.”

He leans in, lowering his voice. “Listen, Chloe. I’ve been thinking. Why don’t we grab dinner tonight? Just the two of us. I know this great little Italian place.”

I open my mouth, scrambling for an excuse. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Mixing work with—”

“Since you’re a contractor and not an employee, I seriously doubt—”

“It’s not a good idea,” I cut in. “Sloane gave me a bunch of jewelry to show when we met this morning, and I haven’t done any recording lately. I’m super behind, and with the holidays . . .” I lie as I take a deep breath. “Timing isn’t right.”

Tyler’s smile falters for a moment, but he quickly recovers. “But that’s just it. It’s the holidays and we shouldn’t be all about work.”

I feel trapped, cornered by Tyler’s persistence. His eyes bore into mine, expectant and hungry. I quickly gather my stuff. “In fact, I really need to get going. I’m doing a Zoom with Sloane later today that I need to get ready for.”

As I stand up, Tyler’s hand shoots out, gripping my wrist. “Chloe, wait—”

The bell above the door chimes, and I look up reflexively. My heart skips a beat as Jack walks in, his firefighter uniform crisp and neat. His eyes scan the café, landing on me. Our eyes meet, and for a moment, the rest of the cafe fades away. A smile starts to form on his face, but it quickly fades as he takes in the scene—Tyler’s hand on my wrist, my obvious discomfort.

Jack’s brow furrows, and he starts walking toward us. Tyler, oblivious to Jack’s approach, leans in closer. “Come on, Chloe. One dinner. What are you afraid of?”

I seize the opportunity. “Oh, Jack! I’m so glad you could make it. I was getting ready to leave because I thought you weren’t coming,” I call out, waving him over.

Tyler’s head whips around, his eyes narrowing as he takes in Jack’s uniform.

Jack looks confused for a split second before catching on. “Sorry I’m late,” he says smoothly, coming to stand by our table.

I stand up quickly, gathering my things. “Tyler, I’m so sorry, but I have plans with Jack that we are now late to. We’ll have to catch up another time.”

Tyler’s jaw tightens, but he forces a smile. “Of course. No problem at all. We’ll talk soon.”

I nod, relief soothing the anxiety inside as Jack and I make our way to the door. Once outside, I let out a long breath. “Thank you so much. You have no idea how much you just saved me.”

Jack’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, and my heart does a little flip. “Happy to help. Care to tell me what I just walked into?”

I hesitate, weighing the situation. Part of me wants to brush it off, act like nothing happened. Another part of me, the loud warning bells in my head, wants to admit that something with Tyler is off. Either way, it’s not Jack’s problem, and I don’t want to play the damsel in distress. He deals enough with that at his job.

I settle for a half-truth. “A coworker who doesn’t quite understand boundaries. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Jack’s eyebrows raise slightly, but he doesn’t push. “Well, I’m glad I could help, even if it was unintentional.”

We stand there for a moment, the crisp winter air nips at my cheeks, and it’s brought a flush to Jack’s cheeks, and . . . Jesus . . . his uniform fits him perfectly. I try to push away the thoughts of how good he looks, reminding myself of my earlier reservations.

But I realize I don’t want this moment to end, don’t want to say goodbye to Jack just yet.

“Can I buy you a coffee?” I blurt out. “You know, as a thank you.” I glance at the front door. “Not here, of course. And I should probably leave before he comes out.” I notice his uniform again. “Unless you’re on your way to work.”

“I have the day off today,” he says, then pauses. “I mean, I had something I had to do today that required me to be in uniform. But I’m done and free.”

“So coffee?” I ask.

“I have a better idea.”

Jack’s eyes twinkle with boyish charm as he says, “How about we grab some hot chocolate instead? I know this amazing little place a few blocks from here. They make it from scratch with real melted chocolate.”

My heart flutters at his suggestion. It feels intimate somehow, more special than just grabbing coffee. “That sounds perfect,” I reply, unable to keep the smile from my face.

Walking the streets of downtown Manhattan, near the water, in the winter, next to a fireman, and on our way to get hot chocolate. What could get more Christmas than that?

As we walk, our breath misting in the cold air, I find myself stealing glances at Jack. His profile is strong, jawline defined, and there’s a quiet confidence in the way he carries himself. It’s genuine and grounded.

“So, day off, huh?” I say, breaking the comfortable silence. “What do firefighters usually do on their days off?”

Jack chuckles, the sound warm and rich. “Walk next to pretty girls to get hot cocoa.” We round a corner, and Jack points to a small, cozy-looking shop with steamed-up windows. “Here we are. Best hot chocolate in the city, I promise.”

The scent of chocolate and cinnamon envelops us as we step inside. It’s warm and inviting, with mismatched chairs and tables, and shelves lined with old books.

As we wait in line, Jack turns to me. “Listen, about what happened back there . . .” He hesitates, his brow furrowing slightly. “If you ever need help or someone to be nearby . . . No pressure, of course.”

“Thank you,” I manage to say. I shrug. “No big deal really. I just have a stalker.”

Jack’s eyes widen, his expression turning serious.

I immediately regret my flippant comment. “No, no, it’s not like that. I was joking. No stalker for me.”

Jack’s face relaxes slightly, but something I can’t quite make out still lingers in his eyes.

We reach the counter, and Jack insists on paying for our hot chocolates despite my protests. As we wait for our drinks, I notice how at ease I feel with him. There’s something about Jack that seems so familiar, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.

“I know we’ve just met,” I begin. “But it feels like I know you from someplace.”

Jack smiles warmly. “Maybe we knew each other in a past life,” he jokes.

Our drinks arrive, steaming mugs topped with a swirl of whipped cream and a dusting of cocoa powder. We find a small table by the window, and I wrap my hands around the warm mug, inhaling the rich scent.

“I think I’ve fallen in love just from the smell,” I say, taking a sip. The chocolate is thick and velvety, with a hint of cinnamon. “Oh wow, you weren’t kidding about this place.”

Jack grins with a wicked glimmer in his eyes, clearly pleased by my reaction. “Told you. It’s my little secret.”

I take another sip, savoring the rich flavor. “Well, consider me impressed. I might have to make this my new spot. And I like secrets.”

Jack gins, oblivious to the bit of whipped cream on his upper lip

I laugh and gesture to my own lip. “You’ve got a little . . .”

He wipes it away, his cheeks flushing slightly. “So I told you one of my secrets. Now it’s your turn to tell me one of yours.”

I hesitate, my fingers tightening around the warm mug. God, if only I could tell him my darkest and most desired secret. What if I told him that nothing would turn me on more than having him knock our hot chocolates to the floor with one swoop of his arm and throw me across the table instead? He’d tear of my clothes and fuck me without a second thought to the people around us. Nothing could get in the way of his hunger for me and—

Jesus . . . I don’t want to risk chasing the man out of the building.

“Well,” I begin, lowering my voice and searching for a safe answer, “I have a secret addiction to trashy reality TV shows. The more drama, the better.”

Jack’s eyes light up with amusement. “Really? Which ones?”

“All of them,” I admit, feeling my cheeks warm. “But my absolute favorite is Love Island. It’s so ridiculous and over-the-top, but I can’t stop watching. I call it Cringe Island and yet I watch every episode.”

He leans in, a conspiratorial grin on his face. “Want to know a secret? I may have binged a season or two of that myself.”

I gasp in mock horror. “No! And here I thought you were this tough, macho firefighter.”

“Hey, even tough, macho firefighters need a guilty pleasure,” he laughs.

Our conversation flows easily after that, jumping from topic to topic. We discuss our favorite books (he loves historical fiction, I’m more into psychological thrillers), our go-to comfort foods (mac and cheese for him, ice cream for me), and our most embarrassing moments (his involves a high school talent show and a failed magic trick).

As we talk, I find myself drawn to the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, and yes, crinkle is the perfect word to describe it. I’m also drawn to the passion in his voice when he talks about his job, the gentle way he listens when I speak. It’s refreshing, especially compared to the men I’ve dated in the past.

Before I know it, hours have passed. The sky outside has darkened with the next predicted snow storm coming, and the cafe is starting to empty out.

“I can’t believe how late it’s gotten,” I say, glancing at my watch. “I should probably head home.”

Jack nods, looking a bit disappointed. “Yeah, I guess we should call it. I should stop by the station anyway and see if they need any help prepping for tonight’s snow.”

We gather our things and step out into the chilly air. The street is busy with people hurrying past, bundled up against the cold.

“I can go to work later if you’d like me to escort you home instead?” Jack says, his breath visible in the afternoon air.

I hesitate for a moment, loving the idea of prolonging this day. But I don’t want to come off as needy or too clingy. “That’s sweet of you to offer, but I think I’ll grab a cab.”

Okay, so this is where he needs to ask me for my number. Come on Jack. Ask me for my number.

Jack nods, his expression a mix of understanding and something else—disappointment, maybe? He shoves his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels slightly.

“Well, I had a great time today,” he says, a soft smile playing on his lips. “It was nice getting to know you better.”

My heart sinks a little. Is this it? Are we just going to part ways without any promise of seeing each other again?

Ask me for my number!

As I’m about to say goodbye, Jack clears his throat. “Listen, I was wondering . . .” he starts, then pauses, seeming to gather his courage. “Would it be okay if I got your number? Maybe we could do this again sometime?”

Relief and excitement flood through me. “Yes, absolutely,” I reply, perhaps a bit too eagerly. I fumble for my phone, nearly dropping it in my haste.

We exchange numbers, our gloved fingers brushing as we hand our phones back and forth.

We stand there for a moment, neither of us quite ready to leave. Snowflakes begin to fall softly around us, catching in Jack’s dark hair and eyelashes. The urge to reach out and brush them away is overwhelming.

Instead, I take a step back. “I should go. Thanks again for today, Jack. For everything.”

“Anytime,” he says softly. “Get home safe, Chloe.”

I turn and start walking away, my heart light despite the heavy snow beginning to fall. I’ve only gone a few steps when Jack calls out.

“Hey, Chloe?”

I turn back, eyebrows raised in question.

Jack is standing there, snowflakes swirling around him, a hesitant smile on his face. “I was thinking . . . there’s this Christmas market opening up tomorrow night in Bryant Park. They’ve got ice skating, hot cider, the works. Would you maybe want to check it out with me sometime this week, if you’re going to be back in city?”

My heart skips a beat. I can already picture us strolling through twinkling lights, sipping warm drinks, maybe even holding hands as we glide across the ice. It sounds magical, perfect even.

But a nagging voice in the back of my mind reminds me of my earlier reservations. Is Jack really my type? Am I setting myself up for disappointment by pursuing something with someone who might be too . . . safe?

I bite my lip, weighing my options. The hopeful look in Jack’s eyes makes my decision for me.

“That sounds wonderful,” I say, unable to keep the smile from my face. “I’d love to.”

Jack’s face lights up, his grin wide and genuine. “Great! I’ll take a look at my work schedule, and I’ll text you the details later?”

I nod, my own smile mirroring his. “Sounds perfect. I’m looking forward to it.”

As I finally turn to leave, hailing a cab with a wave.