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After gathering all of my purse contents off the sidewalk, I stood up and swiped open the message.

“Hey! This is Mason from Saturday night. Just checking to see if you want to grab that drink tomorrow.”

I raised my eyebrows and quickly typed a message back, “Sorry. Wrong number. Don’t know anyone named Mason.”

I shoved my phone into my coat pocket after I sent the response and continued my trek home. As my boots thudded against the concrete of the sidewalk, I mentally made a shopping list: 1. New cream-colored sweater to replace the coffee sweater; 2. New purse with a super-strong strap to replace the piece of shit I currently own; 3. Chewing gum. Did not see any fall out of the purse and it’s always a necessity; 4. Ice cream. Deserve it after today.

I finished my mental list as I walked up the stairs to our third-floor apartment. I was just about to stick my key in the door when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I pulled it out and looked at the new message.

“We met Saturday night at Charlie’s Bar on 5th Street.”

It was the same number as the previous message. What was with him? Didn’t he understand I wasn’t who he was looking for? I quickly fired off a response. “Still the wrong number.”

The little bubbles that showed he was typing a response instantly popped up on the screen. “Are you messing with me?”

“Nope.” I didn’t know why I kept responding. Clearly, this guy wasn’t getting the hint. I unlocked the door and dumped all my stuff in the entryway as my phone vibrated with another incoming message.

“Your name isn’t Susan?”

“Nope.”

“And you weren’t at Charlie’s Saturday night?”

“Nope. Never been there, don’t even know a place by that name.” I kicked my boots off and walked over to the dining table. Our apartment was a decent size for being on-campus housing. The three of us each had our own bedroom plus there was a living room/dining area with enough room for a full-sized sofa, a coffee table, and a small dining table with four chairs. We shared a bathroom, but the kitchen had a dishwasher which, somehow, seemed to even things out. We’d really lucked out; it was much nicer than some of the other apartments available to students.

I set my phone down on the dining table as I pulled out one of the chairs. Before I could sit down, my phone buzzed with another message. The guy texting me might be clueless, but I had to give it to him, he was persistent. “And you didn’t give me this number?”

I sighed. “Nope,” I typed back. It was getting old, but for some reason I kept responding.

“What’s going on?”

I chewed on my bottom lip as my fingers flew across the screen of my phone. “Do you need me to spell it out for you? Sounds like you were putting the moves on Susan and when you asked her for her number, she made one up.”

“Who would do something like that?”

I snickered. “As a woman, I can confidently say, every single one of us who’s ever been hit on by some random dude in a bar she never wanted to see again.”

“So this kind of thing happens a lot?”

“Yep.” A teeny, tiny sliver of me felt bad for being so harsh to the guy. I mean, he had just found out he’d been rejected by some lady named Susan. I decided to try to soften the blow a little. “Maybe Susan was so drunk she typed her number into your phone wrong.”

“I don’t know which of those two options is worse. Maybe it was an honest mistake?”

“Unlikely.” As soon as I hit send I realized, once again, my answer was a little harsh. Up until a few moments prior, the guy clearly had no clue Susan wasn’t into him. I quickly typed out a second message. “I take it this kind of thing has never happened to you before?”

“Never. Do you give out wrong numbers to guys?”

“No. Usually, I just tell them there’s no fucking way I’m giving them my number.” It was true. I was not known for being a “warm and fuzzy” kind of person…especially after everything that happened the year before. As I sat there and thought about it, I began to think how the whole “text exchange with a stranger” thing was really out of character for me. I couldn’t help but wonder why I was doing it…or why I was starting to like it.

My phone buzzed in my hand. “I like your approach better.” I smiled for the first time that day. It was short-lived. The smile immediately fell off my face when I saw the next message from Mason. “What’s your name?”

I set my phone facedown on the table. I wasn’t sure I wanted to answer that question.

What if Susan was on to something and the guy was a super-creep?

Or what if Susan was an idiot and the guy was a total prince charming?

I drummed my fingers on the table as I thought about whether I should respond and what I’d say if I did. I was deep in thought when my phone buzzed with a new message. I quickly flipped it over. “Hello?”

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