Page 10 of Wrong Number. Right Don.
“Yeah. I went to the bathroom, took my time, reapplied my lip gloss?—”
“Like the queen you are.”
“Exactly. And when I come back?” I pause and gesture toward the now-empty table.
Mia’s eyes widen.
“No.”
“Oh, yes.” I let out a humorless laugh. “The man was gone.”
Mia slaps the table. “Shut. Up.”
“He just disappeared. Like a fucking magician. Poof. Vanished. Gone.”
She stares at me for a long second, then bursts out laughing.
I cross my arms, glaring. “I fail to see what’s funny.”
Mia wheezes. “Oh, come on. That’s so bad it’s almost impressive. Like, how do you sneak out in the middle of a date without a word?”
I groan, shaking my head. “I don’t know! I was so pissed.”
“So, what did you do?” she asks, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.
I smirk. “Oh, I sent him a very angry text.”
“Good. Drag his ass.” She claps.
“Yeah.” I pause dramatically. “Except, uh, I had the wrong number.”
Mia stares blankly, like a deer in headlights, then leans forward so fast her coffee almost spills. “I’m sorry, what?”
I shift in my seat, suddenly feeling warm.
Mia narrows her eyes. “Nicole. Who did you text?”
I clear my throat. “A stranger.”
Her jaw drops. “Oh my God! Wait, wait.” She holds up a hand. “You’re telling me you accidentally texted a random guy to cuss him out.”
I nod.
“And instead of ignoring you, he answered?”
I nod again.
Mia slaps the table a second time. “Tell. Me. Everything,” she demands, leaning in, her eyes practically shining with excitement.
I tell her about Sergei’s cocky texts, how he turned the whole situation into a flirtation, like it was effortless. How, against my better judgment, I kept texting him back. And then I tell her about the date. The way he watched me like he was undressing me with his eyes. The way the attraction between us was instant, electric, suffocating.
Mia is enraptured.
“And then?” she demands.
I hesitate. She sees my expression and gasps.
“Nicole Sullivan, did you sleep with him?”
