Page 2 of Heartthrobs Don't Date Wallflowers
UNKNOWN NUMBER
Remind me to never get on your bad side
Seriously, I’m still recovering from that knockout even though it wasn’t for me
Unless it was.
I hope it wasn’t (because I might have to go dig my own grave now)
But side note, if this is your strategy for making friends, it’s bold
Was he seriously pretending he didn’t know what he did to me? That he thought this text wasn’t meant for him, as if he didn’t totally deserve it? I looked at his number, running over them almost subconsciously. Triple seven, nine, four—I froze. Like whole-world-stops-moving, heart-forgets-how-to-beat, eyes-see-nothing-but-this kind of froze.
Because where there was supposed to be a six next, there was a five.
This was not his number.
I had sent that break-up text—that ridiculous message, pretty much just calling him a piece of crap one last time—to the wrong person.
And theyresponded.
Kill. Me. Now.
two
For all of a minute,I debated whether I could just pretend this didn't happen. Text back the guy, saying that no, actually, it hadn't been meant for him. Better yet, maybe I could pretend that I just didn't send it at all, and that he had texted me first—as if he would somehow believe that. Or I could just leave this be, sitting in my phone. Possibly even delete the messages and pretend like it never happened.
But I would know it happened. I would remember. It would be one of those things that kept me up at night for the rest of my life. I'd be 50 years old, married, with kids, and still be thinking about that time I accidentally texted the wrong boy, yelling at him for cheating on me. No. I couldn't just let this go. It would haunt me forever. At least if I answered, I could have some closure. Some sort of way of saying, “Hey, at least it wasn't that bad. At least he said…”
But I didn't know how he would react. His first texts to me—texts, plural, not singular—were allpretty nice, I thought. They seemed joking, in a way, so I guess that was good. At least he wasn't accusing me of being some scammer. Honestly, my ex probably would have done that if somebody else had texted him this.
I groaned and face-planted onto my bed, letting the phone clatter onto the nightstand beside me. What was I thinking? Why did I have to send that text? Why couldn't I just let things be? That's what Poppy told me to do. To just let it go. To forget about him. If she'd been here, she probably would have stopped me from sending that text altogether. She would have pried the phone out of my hands.
But she wasn't here, and I'd done this, and now here we were.
I lifted my face from the pillow, snaked a hand out, grabbed the phone, and slid it towards me. I peeked one eye open, just enough to see the first text again.
Unknown Number
Remind me to never get on your bad side
I had to say something. I couldn't just leave this. What if he texted me again? Then I would have to answer, and it would be so much more embarrassing because he would know that I tried to ignore him. He would know that I tried to pretend it didn't happen. I couldn't let him know that I was thinking that.
So, I had to text him back. One small, measly text explaining what happened. All I had to say was that I mistyped a digit. That I'd actually been trying to textmy cheating ex, and not this random guy who probably hadn't hurt anybody in his life.
Unless he had. There was every possibility he was just as much of a jerk as my ex was. But I felt like the chances were pretty good that he wasn't. And if he was, he probably needed somebody who actually knew him yelling at him. I doubted I would have much of an impact.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard. What was I supposed to say? Finally, I just typed a simple message.
Ivy
That wasn’t for you.
Sent.
I let out a scream. One totally muffled by my pillow that probably barely even sounded like anything outside of me. Not that anybody was home anyway to hear. I had never been more embarrassed than this. Somehow. I was pretty sure this was worse than finding my ex cheating on me. At least that had some anger attached to it. This was nothing but pure embarrassment. Nothing but my own mistake.
The phone chimed from the floor. I froze.
