Page 3 of Wrong Number

“Did you have a good day?” I asked, making mundane small talk while I was pretty sure he was stroking himself. If I shut my eyes, I could almost picture him in my room even though I had no idea what he looked like.

I imagined him sitting in the reading chair I kept in the corner of my room across my bed. His face and form hidden beneath the shadows of the darkness and soft moonlight that streamed through the slats of the blinds. A faceless man with fathomless eyes.

He’d watch me.

Study me.

His darkened form would be breathing heavily as he sat with his legs open wide and his hands on his lap while he stroked himself to the sight of me.

“Nix? I called his name, wondering if I had somehow dropped the call.

Nix. That’s all I knew about my sexy caller.

The whole thing had started three weeks ago. Three weeks. How could my life change so much yet stay the same in such a small amount of time?

“You don’t really want to know about my day, do you, kitten?” His voice sounded thicker, deeper with those tempting words. I licked my lips. I felt like I couldn’t catch my breath.

Three weeks ago, I had been living my life. My very predictable, somewhat boring life. I lived in a busy city that never slept and I worked in a large call center during the day. I took the same bus back and forth like clockwork. Three nights a week, I picked up a shift with my cousin Jenna’s cleaning company for extra money.

I didn’t go out.

I didn’t club or date, really.

Once in a while, I’d meet coworkers for happy hour but usually drank a cherry Coke and then went on my way because I hardly knew them. And even if my best friend, Lana, liked to tease me, there was a beauty to it.

It was safe.

Reliable.

Steady.

And with how I had grown up, I liked knowing things were stable, even if it made them a little boring.

My parents’ relationship had always been volatile, up until the very end when my mom drove their car off the road after an argument. They were found dead on the scene, and even though I’d lost my parents, I’d felt relieved.

I had family, but thankfully, Lana’s mom took me in. Not that I didn’t love my aunt or cousin; I did. But I knew adding one more person into their lives would make things harder.

Margie Pruitt didn’t have to do what she’d done, but I had loved her more than my own mother for it. It had only been the two of them, and Marg needed another mouth to feed like she needed hole in the head. But she had taken me in anyways and had never made me feel like an intruder. It was the opposite, actually. She and Lana had made me feel welcome and part of their family just like they had always done.

And since then, I’d liked to live my life quietly.

I appreciated it.

Thrived on it.

But three weeks ago, my life was shaken up like a snow globe, all by one short little text from a wrong number. The conversations had escalated with a man I could very easily pass by down the street and never know was him.

“Vivi.” His deep voice rasped my name, making shivers slide down my spine.

“Nix,” I whispered into the darkness. I liked his name. It was probably fake, but it was one of the few things I knew about him.

“That’s not what you want to know,” he murmured and then hissed. I knew that hiss. I knew what he was doing without him telling me. “You don’t want to know about my day, do you, kitten?”

Kitten. I loved the nickname he had imposed on me after the first time our chats had turned spicy. Dirtier. He’d heard me moan and said I sounded like a kitten and had kept it going from there.

“Nix, I don’t think?—"

“Then don’t. Don’t think,” he cut me off. I had to be really messed up in the head because I loved the way he talked to me. How bossy he could get because it was such a contrast to how sweet he could be.

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