A wrong number is supposed to be just that—a wrong number.
Do not continue to text. Do not flirt.
A wrong number shouldn’t be the first person on your mind in the morning, or the last at night…and you’re definitely not supposed to talk them into buying a baby goat.
Because that would be weird.
When Zach Hastings and I get into a wrong-number mix-up, we don’t follow the rules. We keep texting and flirting, because he’s wicked funny and perfectly nerdy and a wonderful distraction.
I’m not looking for love, and Zach definitely had the wrong number.
Maybe he’s the right guy.
Delia: I fell asleep thinking of you.
Zach: Please tell me we’re about to sext.
Delia: The moment I woke up, I ran my hand down my chest between my bountiful breasts. I slowly dragged it across my flat stomach, goose bumps rising along my skin at the touch. It wasn’t until I was right at the opening of my white cotton panties that I decided I wasn’t going to touch myself because WE ARE NOT SEXTING, YOU PERVERT.
Zach: I hate you so much right now.
Zach: I HAD A SOLID BONER GOING
Delia: Did you really?
Zach: What do you expect? I’m a man, dammit! We like titties and goose bumps and white cotton panties and sex. YOU ARE EVIL.
Zach: Can we still sext later?
Delia: We’ll see.
Delia: OMG NO!
Zach: I am so confused, yet still slightly turned on.
Delia: Please stop telling me about your boner.
Zach: I will never not tell you about my boner. That’s not the kind of friendship I want.
Delia: You’re so weird.
Delia: *rolls eyes* And I like it. I LIKE IT, OKAY?!
Zach: I know you do.
Delia: FYI, I’m not sexting you. Ever.
Zach: But I’m REALLY cute…
Delia: Oh puh-lease. Every rando on the other side of the screen will say that shit. You need to prove it.
Zach: Geez, Delia, if you wanted a picture of me, all you had to do was ask.
Delia: I don’t want a picture because I’m not sexting you.
Zach: I’m sending you a picture anyway.
Zach: DOWNLOAD ATTACHMENT
I’m scared as hell to push the download button—I mean, it could be a dick pic or something. I don’t think Zach is a douchebag, but you never know.
I bite my lip as I watch the circle spin and the image comes through.
Delia: Rebuttal… 1. Excellent point. 2. I think you spelled yes wrong. Y-E-S.
Delia: I knitted you a damn PENIS POTHOLDER. Least you could do to repay me for my kindness is to buy me a baby goat. Don’t be a jerk, Zach. No one likes those.
Zach: Speaking of those potholders…when am I getting those? We live close. We could always meet…
Delia: You think you’re so slick.
Zach: Aren’t I?
Delia: I’ll consider it, but later. I still have to ensure you’re not a creeper.
Zach: You’ll knit a man potholders but won’t give them to him? Who’s the jerk now?
Delia: Buy me that baby goat and we have a deal.
Zach: You play a tough hand, Delia.
Delia: Question is, will you win this round, or will I?
By day I’m a freelance cover designer. By every other free moment, a writer. I’m a Missouri raised gal, but I currently live in North Carolina with my US Marine husband where I spend my days begging him for a cat. I survive off coffee, pizza, and sarcasm. When I’m not writing, you can find me binge-watching various TV shows, especially Supernatural andOne Tree Hill. I like cold weather, buy more paperbacks than I’ll ever read, and I never say no to brownies.
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