Page 9 of Wrong Number. Right Don.
I turn over and scream into my pillow.
4
NICOLE
Two days pass, and I manage to keep the entire encounter to myself. I bury myself in work and keep my head down. Unfortunately, the secret has to come out today.
Because there’s no way my best friend Mia will let me escape our weekly lunch without spilling everything. I spot her the moment I step into the café. She’s tucked into a corner booth with two iced coffees—one already half-gone, the other clearly for me.
She’s scrolling on her phone, blonde hair piled in a messy bun, and her oversized sweater sliding off one shoulder like she just rolled out of bed and still looks effortlessly cute. I roll my eyes; I know it’s a carefully curated look she agonizes over every time she leaves the house.
I take a deep breath and brace myself. Mia looks up and immediately grins when she spots me.
“Oh-ho, there she is!” she shouts across the crowded café. “The international woman of mystery.”
I slide into the seat across from her and grab my coffee, pretending I don’t know what she’s talking about.
“I’m the least mysterious person you know,” I shoot back. For the record, that is usually true.
“Oh, please,” she gasps, clutching her chest dramatically. “You’ve been ghosting me for two days since your date. Which can only mean one of two things: it was so awful you had to disconnect from the world and bury yourself in a pint of mint chocolate chip, or”—she leans in, eyes glinting—“you got laid.”
I choke on my coffee.
She beams knowingly. “Oh my God, I knew it!” she squeals. “Tell me everything.”
I sigh, setting my cup down. “Actually, it was the mint chocolate chip thing. Totally.”
“Don’t think I don’t see that freshly fucked glow.” She gestures at my face, far too smug.
“Can we not do this so loudly?” I groan, rubbing my temples.
Mia gasps again and drops to a stage whisper. “Hell no.”
I shiver.
“Okay, okay.” She sighs. “Let’s take it from the top. Fill me in on the date.”
I exhale slowly, grateful I can at least put that embarrassment behind me for good once I tell her.
“So I get to the restaurant: candlelight, wine, the whole nine yards.”
Mia sips her coffee, nodding. “Romantic. Promising. Continue.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, but the vibe lasts all of five minutes. The moment I sit down, he spends more time scrolling his phone than looking at me. I swear I could’ve walked out and he wouldn’t have noticed until dessert.”
“Oof. That bad?” she winces.
“Oh, worse. He barely asked me anything about myself. When I tried to start a real conversation, he gave one-word answers. And get this: when the waitress comes over, he flirts with her.”
“Men are an actual disease.” She mock gags.
“Right?” I throw up my hands. “I thought maybe I was imagining it, but no. Full-on charming the waitress while I sat there like an idiot.”
Mia shakes her head. “Please tell me you ditched him.”
I sigh. “I should have. But instead, I made the mistake of thinking, ‘hey, maybe if I freshen up, I can salvage the night.’”
Mia groans, already understanding.
