He's Not Who I Texted

Chapter 1: The Mistyped Number

It was supposed to be a joke. A dumb, dramatic text to my best friend after the most soul-crushing Monday of my life.

I flopped face-first onto my bed, grabbed my phone, and typed:

“Remind me to throw my math book in a volcano. Mr. Graves is a joy thief.”

Then I hit send, tossed the phone aside, and groaned into my pillow like a tortured ghost.

A second later—buzz.

I rolled over, expecting Nia’s usual over-the-top response. Something like “SAME. Let’s drop out and start a smoothie truck.”

Instead?

UNKNOWN:

“Volcano’s booked until Thursday. Want me to handle Graves in the meantime?”

I sat up, blinking.

Wait... what?

Me:

“Wait. Who is this?”

UNKNOWN:

“You texted me. I assumed it was an emergency.”

My heart did this weird little flutter. Part panic. Part Who is this actual stranger that thinks they're funny?

Me:

“Oops. Wrong number. Meant to text my friend.”

UNKNOWN:

“Lucky me.”

Okay... bold.

Me:

“Alright, mystery person. Consider this your five minutes of fame.”

UNKNOWN:

“Challenge accepted. I’ll make it unforgettable.”

I actually laughed. Not just a nose-snort. An actual laugh.

What kind of random person responds like that?

Me:

“What’s your name?”

UNKNOWN:

“Let’s make this more fun. No names. Just vibes.”

I stared at the message for a second, biting back a smile.

Weird. Totally weird.

And kind of... interesting.

I told myself that was it. Block the number. Go back to my regularly scheduled teenage turmoil

But the next day, while I was pretending to care about triangles in math class—my phone buzzed again.

UNKNOWN:

“Graves ruin your life again today?”

I shouldn’t have replied.

But I did.

Me:

“Define ‘ruin.’