Page 3 of Wrong Number. Right Don.
Believe it or not, no. I actually have standards.
Then why were you on a date with a guy who didn’t?
Oof. That one stings. The truth is, I knew better. I’d pegged him as a waste of my time the moment he spent more energy scrolling his phone than looking at me.
I should’ve walked out then, but I didn’t, because it’s been months since I put myself out there, and I was sick of feeling alone.
I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.
A woman like you shouldn’t have to.
My breath catches in my throat.
And what kind of woman am I?
The kind that deserves better.
It’s such a simple thing to say, but something about it leaves me speechless. It’s been a long time since I’ve let a man get under my skin. The last time I dipped a toe back into dating, it spiraled into months of wasted time, empty promises, and me sitting alone at a two-top while my ex ghosted me for the final time.
I swore I wasn’t going to do that to myself again. I swore I was going to focus on work, on myself, onanythingthat didn’t involve men and the inevitable disappointment that followed.
But something in the ease of this stranger’s messages makes it hard to remember why I built that wall in the first place.
You can make it up to me.
My eyebrows furrow as I reread the message.
Make what up to you?I reply.
The accidental text.
And how exactly can I do that?
Let a real man take you on a date.
My fingers hover, frozen, above the keyboard. Meeting him in real life could shatter the intoxicating image I’ve already built—one that just gave me a mind-blowing orgasm. Reality might fall painfully short.
You don’t even know me.
I know enough,he says.
Do you?I want to ask. Do you know that I’m not the kind of woman who does casual dating? Do you know that I’ve spent the last year convincing myself that I don’t need romance to be happy? That I can be fine on my own?
But the same reckless voice that urged me into that fantasy now whispers,Say yes.
Maybe it’s the loneliness talking. Maybe it’s the undeniable curiosity of what kind of man has the confidence to ask out a complete stranger and actually make her want to say yes.
Whatever it is, it has me typing out a response before I can talk myself out of it.
Fine. One date. But if you turn out to be a weirdo, I’ll be the one leaving in the middle of dinner.
I promise you won’t have any reason to.
The certainty in his words makes my stomach somersault.
Tomorrow night. Seven. I’ll send you the location,he types.
So bossy.
