Page 13 of Sexting the Boss

My heart thumps against my ribs, adrenaline flooding through me way too fast for someone who was half-asleep two seconds ago.

I sit up, the dim glow of my phone screen the only light in the tiny room.

I read the message again.

And again.

It’s not a joke.

It’s not awhoops, wrong numberreply.

Whoever this is…they want to play.

I swallow, my fingers shaking.

I should ignore it. I should turn off my phone, roll over, and go to sleep like a normal person.

But I don’t.

Instead, I sit there, my heart pounding way too fast, staring at the words glowing on my screen.

I could show you.

I chew the inside of my cheek.

This is a bad idea.

The worst idea.

But for once in my life, I don’t want to be responsible. I don’t want to be the girl who always makes the safe choice—who budgets, who plans, who takes the most logical path because she has to survive New York at any cost.

For once, I want to do something stupid.

Something reckless.

My fingers hover over the keyboard.

Then, before I can stop myself, I type back.

Me: Oh yeah? What would you do?

I hit send.

And immediately regret it.

My phone buzzes almost instantly.

I suck in my breath. He was waiting.

Unknown Number: That depends. Are you the kind of girl who likes to be told? Or the kind who likes to be shown?

Oh.

Oh.

I exhale slowly, pulse roaring in my ears.

This is not some drunk stranger laughing behind their screen.

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