Bad Text
Chapter 1
Lorelai
Buzz. Buzz.
Lori groaned and rolled over, scrambling for her cell and hitting the side button to shut it up. Then she burrowed her head into her pillow and tried to go back to sleep.
Her eyes slid closed. Her breathing slowed—
Buzz. Buzz.
“Ugh,” she muttered, scrabbling for her phone again. Her fingers closed around the case, bringing it up to her face, and glancing at the too-bright screen with scrunched up eyes.
Fuck, that was intense.
Buzz. Buzz.
Squinting, she looked at the home screen, saw a trail of three texts.
Hey, baby, the first one read. I’m so glad I met you tonight.
I hope that you really DO want this, the second one said.
The third one . . . was a picture.
Call it stupidity, or perhaps it was just because she’d been woken up in the middle of the night and her brain was mush, but for whatever reason, Lori touched the text bubble with the picture.
A second later, the screen unlocked.
And then—
“Um . . .” She blinked, looked again. “Um. Wow.”
There on the screen was . . . holy balls—no pun intended—but there were . . . well, balls and a penis and abs and—
Look, she’d seen her fair share of dick pics, being a single woman in her early thirties. They seemed to appear in her inbox in uninvited droves and while this one was definitely not invited, it was also . . . kind of the best she’d ever seen.
Her phone buzzed again, and she glanced at the screen.
You there?
Lori froze, eyes glued to the picture and knowing she had a choice to make. One to pretend to be whoever you was in order to obtain more photos. Gross, but it had been a long time since she’d . . . fine, here was her inner perv talking, seen a penis in the flesh.
Ick. Not the best thought.
But it was two in the morning, she’d been an idiot to not have her phone on Do Not Disturb, and . . . it had been A. Really. Long. Time.
However, even being pent-up sexually, she still had enough of a moral center that she felt the need to respond to the man and tell him he had the wrong number.
But maybe if she waited long enough, she might get another pic?
Just one to look at—briefly—before she’d promptly delete it and—
Her eyes drifted back down to her phone, to the words this time, and her pesky conscience reared its head. Sighing, she let her fingers work on the keyboard.
You have the wrong number.