Page 17 of Sexting My Ex's Dad
Her words strike a chord within me. I hesitate, my gaze locked on hers. “Define ‘just have fun’.”
Anastasia grins, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Like giving my brother Paul a chance.” The suggestion catches me off guard, making me choke although I quickly try to cover it up, so she doesn’t think I’m offending her brother. “He’s always had a crush on you, you know?”
“Paul?” I repeat, my mind racing to remember the last time I saw Anastasia’s charming, flirtatious brother. His warm brown eyes and easy smile had always made me feel at ease, but I never considered him as anything more than a friend. I definitely wouldn’t have that thought he’d had a crush on me. Until now.Interesting.
“Yep,” she confirms, her grin widening. “He’s been head over heels for you since we were teenagers. And even if you’re not ready for a relationship, I’m sure the two of you could just have fun together. And I know he’d treat you right, Stella. So why not give him a shot?”
As the music shifts to a slower tempo, couples around us draw closer together, their bodies pressed tight. I glance at Anastasia, her expression earnest. The thought of exploring something new with Paul is terrifying, but I can’t deny the unexpected flutter in my chest at the idea.
“Alright,” I concede, my voice barely audible over the music. What do I have to lose anyways?
“Great!” Anastasia exclaims, pulling her phone from her purse and tapping a few buttons. Then she grabs a napkin and pen from a nearby table and scribbles the number down before handing it to me. “Here’s his number. “
“Okay,” I agree, taking a deep breath and pocketing the napkin.
What would Owen say if he knew I was moving on?His opinion doesn’t matter anymore.
It’s time for me to move on.
10
STELLA
Ilean into Anastasia, struggling to be heard over the music. “I’ll be right back, Ana. Nature calls,” I say with a tipsy giggle, swaying slightly on my barstool.
“Sure thing, Stella! Don’t get lost!” she teases.
She’s not as drunk as me…probably from years of drinking alcohol.
I navigate my way through the crowded bar, the alcohol in my bloodstream making the world spin around me. When I finally reach the bathroom, I let out a sigh of relief and lock myself inside a stall.
As I sit down, my hand brushes against the small slip of paper tucked into the pocket of my jeans. I pull it out, running my fingers over the hastily scribbled numbers – Paul’s phone number. A flush creeps up my cheeks, and my heart flutters in anticipation.
“Should I really do this?” I whisper to myself, rereading the digits for what feels like the hundredth time. My mind races withthe possibilities, but there’s one nagging doubt that won’t go away: What if he doesn’t feel the same way about me anymore?
I swallow hard, trying to push aside my insecurities. “You never know until you try, right?” I murmur under my breath and let out a deep breath.
After all, Paul is hot…a good league above Owen.
Although even he doesn’t compare to Elio.
My eyes widen, and my cheeks start to heat up. I’d told myself that I wouldn’t think of Elio anymore…not his salt and pepper hair that should have made him look older but just added to how alluring he was…nor his blue eyes that felt like they looked right through me…or the fire that I’d felt when he touched me. Or the very noticeable muscles underneath his suit…
There would never be anything between Elio and I…but that didn’t mean I couldn’t give things a try with Paul.
But as I clutch the paper in my hand, staring at the inked symbols that could change everything, my resolve wavers. My palms grow clammy, and a shiver runs down my spine. What if it turns out I’m just setting myself up for disappointment?
“Come on, Stella,” I tell myself, shaking off the doubts that threaten to consume me. “Don’t wuss out.” I’ve wussed out enough in my life.
With a deep breath, I summon the courage to do something daring... something I probably would never have done had it not been for the alcohol coursing through my veins but…oh well, right?
Looking in the mirror, I tousle my wavy brown hair and adjust my top to show just a hint of cleavage. The dim bathroomlighting casts a sultry glow on my flushed cheeks and hazel eyes. My heart races as I lift my phone to capture this rare moment of boldness.
“Alright, Stella,” I whisper to myself, snapping the photo. “Maybe this will catch his attention.”
I attach the photo to a new text message, typing out Paul’s number with trembling fingers. My heartbeat thuds in my ears as I craft a playful message that could potentially change everything:
Hey, it’s Stella. Just wondering if you’ve been thinking about me
