Page 20 of Circle of Strangers
Perfect. That word again. The kind of word men toss around when they think they’ve found something shiny and new to distract them from their dull lives. I sip my coffee, leaning back on the couch, letting his words marinate. It’s almost amusing, knowing he’s pouring his heart out to a collection of pixels—an AI-generated woman with flawless skin, glossy dark hair, and intoxicatingly innocent doe eyes. A mirage that only exists because I tweaked the lighting and added imperfections to make her feel justreal enough.
He’s desperate. So pathetic.
I respond:It’s just that you seem too good to be true. I have a hard time believing you are what you say you are. How can I be sure you’re not lying? Anyone can say anything on here.
The response feels like throwing a bone to a starving dog, and sure enough, the bubbles reappear instantly. Something about that line is like crack to sex-starved married men. It only makes them want me (or the fantasy of me) more.
Oscar:You’ve been burned and I get it. What if we just met for coffee? Something simple? You and me? We can talk and you can decide from there.
I roll my eyes. They always want “just coffee.” As if that somehow makes them less pathetic or gives off nonthreatening vibes.
Another message pops up almost immediately.
Oscar:How about tomorrow morning? Kettlestone Café at 9 AM? What’s your drink? I’ll have it ready for you.
I type back:Fine. Black coffee. Seeyou then.
I smirk at the screen. I have no intention of showing up. At least not inside. I’ll cruise through the parking lot to see if his car is there, grab a photo for evidence, then I’ll jet. I’m not sure what I’ll do with said evidence. It’s not like I need more proof that he’s a lying, cheating scumbag, but perhaps the validation is all I need. To be honest, I’m growing bored with this anyway.
My phone buzzes with a text from Sozi, interrupting my thoughts.
Sozi:Need out of this house. Walk?
I hesitate for half a second, debating whether or not I want company, then type back.
Me:Sure. Meet you outside in ten.
I toss my phone aside and change into something comfortable—navy blue leggings, chunky New Balances, and a loose gray hoodie.
As I walk out the front door, the crisp morning air greets me. Sozi’s already waiting by the curb, her hands shoved into the pockets of her light jacket. It’s unusually tepid this morning. Agreeable by Chicago standards, but I imagine it feels like the middle of winter to the locals here.
“Thanks for getting me out of there,” she says with a grin, falling into step beside me. “Austin’s working from home today and he’s driving me nuts. On the phone every five minutes while he’s watching some financial documentary, which he feels the need to talk to me about for some reason, as if he doesn’t know how much I loathe that stuff. It’s mind-numbing. I needed an excuse to escape.”
We stroll down the quiet streets of the neighborhood, the houses all bathed in a pale blanket of sunlight and blue skies.
It’s silent here, peaceful.
Almost too peaceful.
“So,” Sozi says, nudging me playfully. “What’s on your mind? You’ve got that look.”
I glance at her sideways, wondering if I should say it. I debate keeping it to myself for a moment, and I know damn well Sozi has a big mouth, but maybe that’ll be my solution to this precarious situation. Sozi can let it slip that Oscar’s on a dating app and Mara can find out that way. I can wash my hands clean of this whole morally gray thing.
With a little shrug, I let it spill. “I’ve been ... catfishing married men.”
Sozi’s eyebrows shoot up. “You’re kidding. Wait ... what? How?”
“Dead serious.” I smirk. “It started as a hobby, I guess. I find men on dating apps, chat with them just enough to discern their full name and if they’re married ... let’s just say their wives end up with some enlightening information they can use any way they’d like.”
Sozi exhales, her eyes wide. “Damn. That’s intense.”
I laugh, a little more bitterly than I intended. “It’s not as crazy as it sounds. It’s just something to do, you know? It’s like a game for me. It’s fun to do some sleuthing, and I’m kind of pretty good at it.”
Sozi chuckles. “How many have you caught so far?”
“Just one,” I say. “Well, there’s another one I’ve been talking to. I know he’s married, but not because of any sleuthing I’ve done. It’s someone I know.”
Her brows wrinkle. “Someone from back home?”
