Wrong Chat, Right Guy

There are texts you regret sending.

Then there are texts that make you consider transferring universities, changing your name, and starting a new life somewhere no one has Wi-Fi.

Mine was:

If Ryan showed up at my door right now, I’d sleep with him.

I stared at the message.

Then at the name above it.

Ryan Hayes.

Not Zoe.

Ryan.

My crush.

The guy I had been hopelessly obsessed with for over a year.

My brain stopped functioning.

Three dots appeared.

Then disappeared.

Then appeared again.

Finally:

Ryan: ?

I stopped breathing.

Another message.

Ryan: Was that meant for me?

I should have explained.

A normal person would have explained.

Unfortunately, I had spent the entire night in the biochemistry lab and had approximately three living brain cells left.

Before I could decide which one should answer him, another message appeared.

Ryan: Today?

I sat up.

Ryan: I’m about to go into the debate final.

Ryan: Give me an hour?

My mouth fell open.

Then:

Ryan: I’ll come back as soon as we’re done.

And finally:

Ryan: Please don’t change your mind.

I dropped my phone onto the blanket like it had caught fire.

Across the room, Zoe looked up from her bed.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You look like you just saw your GPA.”

“Worse.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“Did you text Ryan?”

“No.”

Technically, that answer had already become false.

“You absolutely texted Ryan.”

“My phone is broken.”

“You bought it three months ago.”

“It broke emotionally.”

Zoe got out of bed.

I immediately threw myself over my phone.

“Stay away.”

Her eyes widened.

“Oh my God. What did you send?”

“Nothing.”

“Mia.”

“Good night.”

“It’s seven in the morning.”

“I’ve been awake for twenty-three hours. Time has no meaning.”

I pulled the blanket over my head.

The whole disaster had started five minutes earlier.

Zoe had been lying in bed while I stumbled into our dorm room after an overnight lab session.

I looked terrible.

Hair tied in something that had once been a ponytail. Hoodie stained with coffee. Eyes barely open.

Zoe had taken one look at me and asked, “If Ryan Hayes knocked on the door right now, would you still pretend you don’t have a crush on him?”

“I don’t have a crush on him.”

“You’ve had a crush on him since sophomore year.”

“That is an allegation.”

“You have his basketball schedule saved.”

“School spirit.”

“You once walked twenty minutes in the rain because you heard he was helping at a barbecue.”

“I was hungry.”

“You refer to him as BBQ Guy in your phone.”

“That proves nothing.”

She had grinned.

“Fine. If Ryan walked in right now, what would you do?”

I was too tired to think.

“Sleep.”

“With him?”

“Sure. I’d sleep with him. Happy?”

She had laughed so hard she nearly rolled off her bed.

I had meant to send her a message repeating the joke.

Instead, I had opened the wrong chat.

And now Ryan Hayes apparently believed I had issued him a formal invitation.

My phone buzzed again beneath the blanket.

I refused to look.

If I never opened my eyes again, this problem would technically stop existing.

Within minutes, I was asleep.

“Mia!”

Something hit my mattress.

“Mia Carter, wake up!”

I groaned.

“Go away.”

“Two-for-one burritos.”

My eyes opened.

Zoe stood over me.

“What?”

“The food truck by the south gate.”

I sat up.

“Which one?”

“The good one.”

“The brisket burritos?”

“Yes.”

“How many?”

“First fifty orders.”

I was out of bed before she finished the sentence.

Zoe blinked.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“You should’ve led with burritos.”

I splashed water on my face, pulled on shorts and an oversized T-shirt, then grabbed my dead phone.

No battery.

Whatever.

I could charge it later.

Zoe glanced at me as we ran toward the stairs.

“You’re really going out like that?”

“Like what?”

She pointed at my neck.

I touched the irritated patches from whatever mosquitoes had attacked me during yesterday’s field sampling.

“They’re bug bites.”

“They look like hickeys.”

“I’ll buy cream later.”

“You could at least change.”

“Zoe, there are only fifty burritos.”

That ended the discussion.

We burst out of the dorm.

I turned the corner too fast and ran directly into someone.

Strong arms caught me before I fell.

I smelled cedar and laundry detergent.

My stomach dropped.

I looked up.

Ryan Hayes.

Of course.

Because apparently God had decided my suffering needed better pacing.

Ryan was tall, dark-haired, and unfairly good-looking in the quiet kind of way that made people turn around after he passed.

Right now, though, he looked less composed than usual.

His hair was slightly messy.

His breathing was uneven.

Like he had been hurrying.

“Mia?”

I stepped back.

“Hi.”

His eyes searched my face.

“You okay?”

“Great.”

His gaze dropped.

Straight to my neck.

He froze.

I had forgotten the red marks.

His expression changed.

“You… slept?”

I nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah.”

His jaw tightened.

“You slept well?”

“Best sleep I’ve had all week.”

Ryan stared at me.

I smiled.

He looked devastated.

“Mia.”

“Hmm?”

“Did you find someone else?”

I blinked.

Oh.

Right.

Lunch.

I had promised Ryan two days ago that we would grab lunch after his debate tournament.

And now I was running away with Zoe.

“I’m sorry.”

His expression somehow got worse.

“You couldn’t wait an hour?”

Guilt stabbed me.

Technically, he had probably hurried all the way back for our lunch.

“I know. I’m terrible.”

“So it was that urgent?”

I looked toward the south gate.

“Extremely.”

Ryan closed his eyes for a second.

Zoe tugged my sleeve.

Burritos.

Right.

I looked back at him.

“Can we do this another time?”

He stared at me.

“Another time.”

“I promise. Next time you get priority.”

His eyebrows rose.

“So I’m Plan B?”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He laughed once, but there was absolutely nothing happy about it.

I felt bad.

Really bad.

But the food truck was twenty yards away, and I could already see a line forming.

“I’ll make it up to you!”

I grabbed Zoe’s arm.

“Come on!”

We ran.

Behind us, Ryan didn’t follow.

“You left him.”

Zoe stared at me across the picnic table.

I took another bite of my burrito.

“You told me to hurry.”

“I was trying to get you to let go of my arm so I could come buy the food while you talked to him.”

I stopped chewing.

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I misunderstood.”

“You misunderstand everything.”

“That seems dramatic.”

“You just abandoned your dream man for discounted meat.”

I looked down at the burrito.

Then took another bite.

“It’s very good meat.”

Zoe covered her face.

“You’re hopeless.”

Maybe.

But in my defense, food had been involved the first time I noticed Ryan too.

It had happened the previous fall during an outdoor club retreat by a lake.

Most people were kayaking or taking pictures.

Ryan was helping with dinner.

He stood beside a smoker, sleeves rolled up, slicing brisket while smoke curled around him.

I remembered looking at him from several yards away.

Tall.

Focused.

Sunlight catching the side of his face.

Then the smell reached me.

Smoked beef.

Pepper.

Barbecue sauce.

Something inside me shifted.

My heart skipped.

Ryan looked up.

Our eyes met.

He smiled.

Then he placed the best piece of brisket on my plate.

“This one has the best bark.”

I ate it.

And fell deeply, irreversibly in love.

Zoe knew this story.

Unfortunately.

“You still haven’t answered the most important question,” she said.

“What?”

“Did you fall for Ryan or the brisket?”

I thought about it.

“Both.”

She sighed.

I had added Ryan on Instagram after that trip.

At first, I invented reasons to message him.

Then I stopped inventing reasons.

Good morning.

How was class?

Did you eat?

Look at this dog.

Why does Professor Daniels hate us?

He answered almost everything.

For a year.

Which was why I had eventually convinced myself that maybe—

just maybe—

he liked me too.

I reached for my phone.

Still dead.

“Whatever,” I said.

“I’ll apologize later.”

That sentence would age badly.

Back in the dorm, I plugged in my phone.

The moment it turned on, notifications exploded across the screen.

All Ryan.

Ryan: Debate’s over.

Ryan: We finished early.

Ryan: I’m heading back.

Ryan: Mia?

Ryan: Are you asleep?

Ryan: I’m outside your dorm.

And then:

Ryan: Are you sure?

My stomach dropped.

I scrolled higher.

Saw my message.

Saw his replies.

Saw the entire disaster.

Then remembered our conversation downstairs.

You slept?

Yeah.

Well?

Very.

Did you find someone else?

My eyes widened.

“Oh no.”

Zoe looked up.

“What?”

“Oh no.”

“What?”

I pointed at my neck.

Then at the phone.

Then back at my neck.

Zoe read the messages.

Silence.

Her mouth slowly opened.

Then she screamed.

“You told him you wanted to sleep with him!”

“It was meant for you!”

“And then he came back early!”

“I know!”

“And you showed up covered in what look like hickeys!”

“I know!”

“And told him you had an amazing time sleeping!”

“I KNOW!”

Zoe fell onto her bed laughing.

I was going to die.

But beneath the humiliation, another thought appeared.

Ryan had come back.

Early.

Because of that message.

That was…

interesting.

I stared at the chat.

Maybe he liked me.

My heart began beating faster.

I typed:

Me: Ryan?

Deleted it.

Typed again.

Me: About this morning…

Deleted that too.

Finally:

Me: What did you mean earlier?

Three dots appeared instantly.

Then stopped.

Then appeared again.

For ten full minutes.

Finally:

Ryan: Sorry.

Another message.

Ryan: This isn’t Ryan.

I frowned.

Ryan: His account was hacked.

I stared.

“What?”

At that exact moment, Zoe cursed.

“Oh, come on!”

I turned.

“What happened?”

“My brother’s Instagram got hacked. Someone asked me for fifty dollars.”

I looked at her.

Then at Ryan’s chat.

Then back.

Apparently this was happening everywhere.

I nodded slowly.

“Okay.”

The evidence was overwhelming.

Zoe glanced at me.

“What?”

“Ryan got hacked too.”

“When?”

“Just now.”

“That’s convenient.”

“The hacker told me.”

Zoe stared.

I ignored her.

I wrote:

Me: Fine. Please don’t delete our messages.

Me: They’re important.

Then, after one painful moment of hesitation, I blocked the account.

Across campus, Ryan Hayes stared at the notification.

Then dropped his face into his pillow.

“Idiot,” he whispered.

There were many possible lies.

He had chosen hacked.

And she had believed him.