Day #8: Wrong Number, by Amber Averay
Anne exited the library into a balmy night, the scent of brine on the air mingling with the meaty aromas from the nearby restaurant. It was an odd smell, but one she found comforting, familiar and soothing. She brushed her heavy fringe from her eyes, juggling her handbag, armload of heavy books, car keys, mobile phone, and the coffee she’d grabbed from the machine on her way out.
The traffic outside the library was almost non-existent, so she was able to stroll across the pedestrian crossing without feeling the glares of impatient drivers, and just reached her car when her phone buzzed.
Sighing, a fond smile twitching her lips, she unlocked the vehicle and threw her books and bag onto the back seat before setting her coffee on the roof and unlocking the mobile’s screen. She figured it would be her friend, checking that they were still good for Saturday night – she didn’t have a boyfriend, had been quite single for some time, and her parents were callers, not texters, so she knew it wouldn’t be either of those.
The number that came up was unfamiliar to Anne. Brow furrowing, she opened the message and immediately wished it was for her: Hey, got your number from your friend at the bar. If you’re free tomorrow, how about we catch up? Your choice of location, my shout. ???
Anne smiled, heart wrenching a little with jealousy for the intended recipient of this message, and tapped a reply: Hey there. Much as that sounds amazing, and I’d take your offer up in a heartbeat, I think you’ve got the wrong number. I haven’t been to a bar in ages. But good luck with whoever you’re trying to contact! She contemplated adding ‘she’d be a fool to turn you down’, but, deciding that was probably too much for a stranger, simply sent as was.
Gathering up her lukewarm coffee – which was far too sugary for her liking, typical cheap machine crap – she slid into the driver’s seat of her car and set the key into the ignition. Her phone buzzed again. She assumed it was the mystery man, apologising for the mistake.
Thanks for the reply – sorry I bugged you! But I’m seriously nosy, how come you don’t go to pubs? You seem a nice person, so it CAN’T be that you don’t have any friends!
She smiled, perhaps a touch wistfully. Haha, no, I do have a few friends, sadly just a very boring person.
Don’t sell yourself short! he quickly sent back. Are you at home right now, sitting in your pyjamas, cuddling the cat and eating icecream straight from the tub?
Peeking through my windows, are you? She hit ‘send’ then felt a blush creeping through her cheeks at her boldness. She didn’t know this person, and yet here she was, flirting like a champ!
But she couldn’t deny she waited with growing anticipation for him to reply, fearing he might not.
Her phone buzzed. Eagerly unlocking the screen, her eyes raced over the text. Caught! Was it the overwhelming scent of my cologne or did you see me snooping?
That’s your COLOGNE?! I thought the dog had thrown up.
Oh, that’s cruel. Very cruel. You’re a hard woman to please.
You’ll just have to try a bit harder. She froze once sending the text. Did I really just say that? To a stranger? Shameless hussy. But she giggled, amazed at herself and somewhat delighted that she had this secret well of untapped flirtatiousness.
Her hands were shaking when his reply sped back: Clearly I’ll have to pull out all the stops! Shall we make it fair, then? YOU name the restaurant, I’LL arrange everything, and we’ll see how it goes. Sound acceptable?
Perfect, she typed back, then hesitated. But – at risk of sounding SUPER boring, are we even in the same city? And what’s your name?
She waited, barely breathing, for at least three full minutes; neither inhaling nor exhaling until her phone buzzed with the incoming text. Wow, not just a pretty face, but smart, too! Good thinking.
How would you know if I’m pretty or not? I could be ugly as sin.
So could I, he wrote back. However, you seem pretty awesome, so I’m willing to give it a shot. If I run away screaming, you can post all over my social media that I cry like a baby and suck my thumb.
Smiling, she replied, It’s a deal. She told him the suburb she was currently in, adding, And my name’s Anne.
I knew you’d have a pretty name to suit your nature. My name – believe it or not – is Lucas George.
Your folks Star Wars fans?
LOL Mum hates it. Dad adores it. Thank God he didn’t get his first choice when I was born – he wanted to call me Solo.
Wow… Solo George? That’s cruel. Lucas is much nicer.
Way, WAY nicer in person, too. He added a winking emoji, which caused her to giggle. He sent another message, giving his suburb, which was only a twenty minute drive from her home address – or a thirty-minute journey from her current location.
Her fingers hovering over the touchscreen keypad, Anne hesitated. With a feeling of sadness, she tapped, That sounds lovely. But – and here I am being boring AGAIN – but you messaged me by accident. What about that other girl you initially meant to contact?
That’s on her. She should have more reliable friends who give out her real number. JKS. Uh… Could I give you a call? Please? No expectations, nothing but a chat.
???
Anne released the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, then replied, Ok.
When her phone rang seconds later, it was with shaking hands that she answered the call.
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