Unknown Number: Sounds suffocating.
 
 I roll my eyes.
 
 Me: He’s not that bad. He’s actually nice.
 
 Unknown Number: Right. Nice. That’s what every woman wants. To be nicely micromanaged.
 
 I choke on a laugh.
 
 Me: You’re being dramatic.
 
 Unknown Number: I don’t like the guy.
 
 I blink.
 
 That’s new.
 
 Me: You don’t even know him.
 
 Unknown Number: I don’t need to. I know his type. A guy who hovers around, waiting for an opening, pretending he’s just being “helpful” when really he’s been eyeing you for months.
 
 My face heats.
 
 Me: That’s not true.
 
 Unknown Number: You sure? Because it sounds like he waited until the last possible moment, and now that you’ve agreed, he’s probably celebrating like he won a prize.
 
 I scoff.
 
 Me: I’m not a prize.
 
 Unknown Number: No, you’re not. You’re something a guy like him wouldn’t know how to handle.
 
 My breath catches slightly.
 
 Okay.
 
 Me: So…what, you don’t think I should go?
 
 Unknown Number: Do you think you should go?
 
 I chew on my lip, shifting in my chair.
 
 Me: I mean…he asked nicely. And I kind of blurted out yes without thinking. It’s just a casual dinner.
 
 Unknown Number: Nothing about him sounds casual.
 
 I shake my head, biting back a smile.
 
 Me: Why do I get the feeling you’re jealous?
 
 A long pause.
 
 Then—
 
 Unknown Number: I don’t get jealous.
 
 I grin.