Page 25 of The Other Guy

Unknown: Right. Somehow I don’t think you’re all that sorry.

I blow out a frustrated breath. How do I get myself out of this situation? The one I never asked to be in in the first place?

Me: You know what? I’m not. I’ve been getting these messages for weeks now and I’m trying my best to be the nice guy. To be the opposite of the guy you slept with last night.

Unknown: Hey!

Me: Like I said, the truth hurts. I’m sorry that I didn’t immediately tell you that you had the wrong number or that the guy you were with last night who you had life altering sex with did to you the exact same thing he’s done to twenty other women.

Unknown: Whoa. Please tell me you’re joking.

Me: Nope. I’m his number neighbor. Lucky me.

Unknown: Number neighbor? That crap is still going on?

Me: Apparently.

Unknown: Well, this has been fun.

Me: Yup. I’m skipping from all the excitement.

Unknown: You’re funny.

Me: That I am.

Unknown: And humble.

Me: That, too.

Unknown: And a man of many words.

Unknown: Wait, you are a guy, right?

Me: Would it matter if I wasn’t?

Unknown: Guess not.

Me: Well, as you mentioned above, this has been fun, but I gotta get back to work.

Unknown: Sorry.

Me: Why are you apologizing?

Unknown: Bad habit.

Me: It’s okay. Have a good day, Twenty.

Unknown: **groans I don’t even want to know why you just called me Twenty.

Me: Probably not.

I drop my phone again and debate whether or not to text the guy responsible for my current hell or just let it continue.

“Whoa. What’s wrong with you?”

My head jerks up at the sound of my dad’s voice and despite my irritation, I smile. Dad strides into my office, black ball cap pulled low on his head, black puffy vest over a dark gray long sleeve Henley that covers his tattoo-covered arms, worn jeans, and work boots. I round the corner of my desk and he pulls me in for a hug. It’s been almost a month since we’ve seen each other, which is weird for us because we usually spend a lot of time together.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him.