After a soul-crushing shift at the restaurant, I finally collapse into my chair, the one that’s molded itself to my ass after too many late nights. All I want is to strip to my boxers, recline like a defeated king, and drown in the next few episodes of Game of Thrones. But the universe has other plans. I reek. Not just normal post-work sweat—I smell like a grease fire had passionate sex with garlic aioli and then rolled around in fried onions. The aroma is so thick it’s practically a second skin.

  Fifteen minutes later I’m clean(ish), clutching a bottle of water like it’s a trophy, and burrowing back into my blanket cocoon. Legs up on the desk, show queued, peace at last.

  Then my phone buzzes.

  It’s 11:47 p.m. I groan audibly—who texts at this hour unless someone is bleeding or on fire? I swing my legs down, roll the chair toward the bed like a man sentenced to hard labor, and grab the phone just as it buzzes again.

  Sierra Acosta. One of my online tutoring students.

  I roll my eyes so hard I nearly see my own brain. Great. She’s probably about to ask me to explain MLA format for the seventeenth time or beg for a three-week extension because her “laptop spontaneously combusted.”

  I open the messages.

  Sierra Acosta: Hey baby u up?

  Sierra Acosta: I have been thinking about u all day.

  I snort. Classic wrong-number catastrophe. I start typing the polite “you’ve got the wrong guy” response when the third message lands.

  Sierra Acosta: Last night was amazing. No 1 has ever made me feel like that. My body was tingling all over.

  My eyebrows climb into my hairline. I type faster.

  Me: Wow um…

  Me: Ms. Acosta you might want to check who you’re texting.

  I lean back, already picturing her horror. She replies in seconds.

  Sierra Acosta: OMG professor Richards I am sorry!

  Sierra Acosta: That was totally meant for someone else.

  Me: I kind of figured.

  Sierra Acosta: Wow I feel so stupid. Ur name is right above a friend of mine in my phone. I accidentally texted u instead of him. :(

  Me: It’s okay. These things happen. Well… maybe not exactly like this. lol

  Silence. I assume mortification has claimed her. I fire off one last gracious exit.

  Me: Anyways, congratulations on such a talented boyfriend.

  I’m smirking, ready to hit play, when—

  Sierra Acosta: Oh he isn’t my boyfriend

  Sierra Acosta: He is just someone I talk to when I am in… U know the mood.

  I actually laugh out loud. She’s either the most unfiltered person alive or she’s decided shame is optional after midnight.

  Me: lol Again you don’t have to explain

  Sierra Acosta: Sorry :(

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Another pause. I set the phone down, smug, thinking the crisis is averted. Ten minutes into the episode my phone vibrates again.

  Sierra Acosta: Um Professor u aren’t going to report me or anything for texting you that?

  Sierra Acosta: I am really sorry

  The idea is so absurd I nearly choke on my water. Report her? For accidentally sexting her tutor? I’m twenty-three, not a tenured department chair.

  Me: lol No I am not going to report you.

  Me: And I’m not a professor. I’m just an online tutor.

  Sierra Acosta: I knew u were a tutor but I thought u were a professor also.

  Me: Not yet. I’m actually just a student like you. Tutoring gets me extra credit and beer money.

  Sierra Acosta: Oh… So how old r u?

  Me: 23

  Sierra Acosta: Wow… You know I have always pictured u as an overweight balding middle aged guy with glasses.

  I bark a laugh. That’s… specific. And a little savage.

  Me: No I have all my hair but I do wear glasses.

  Silence again. Suddenly I’m irrationally worried she finds glasses repulsive. I stare at the screen like it owes me money.

  Curiosity wins. I’ve never understood the whole anonymous phone-sex thing. I type before I can talk myself out of it.

  Me: So how does it work?

  Sierra Acosta: How does what work?

  Me: You and this guy. He’s a friend with benefits right?

  Sierra Acosta: Haha Oh

  Sierra Acosta: It isn’t like you are thinking. We don’t meet up and have sex. We just talk through text or on the phone.

  Sierra Acosta: We have never met each other. It’s just phone sex.

  Me: So you’ve never met this guy? Do you even know what he looks like?

  Sierra Acosta: No. We both decided to keep that part a mystery allowing us to picture who we want to while we do this.

  Me: lol What if he is some middle aged fat balding guy with glasses?

  Sierra Acosta: Haha he could be. We have sent some pictures but we pretty much cut or block out our faces.

  Sierra Acosta: I can’t believe I am talking to you about this. This isn’t like your work phone that they can check your messages on?

  Me: No it’s my personal phone. The only person seeing these messages is me… and now you, apparently.

  Sierra Acosta: So you just give out your phone number to random people you don’t know?

  Me: You’re one to talk, Ms. Phone Sex. I figured it would be easier for tutoring questions. And everyone probably thinks I’m that overweight middle-aged balding professor anyway, so they usually don’t abuse the privilege.

  Sierra Acosta: Haha

  Me: But if the school found out I was discussing phone sex with a student I tutor… yeah, I’d probably be toast.

  Sierra Acosta: Hmm so I could possibly use this against you. What should I get my tutor to do for me? ;)

  I grin like an idiot. Blackmail-flirting at midnight. My life is weird.

  Me: Resorting to blackmail? No Sierra I’m not doing your homework for you.

  Me: Just remember I have this entire conversation saved too. Don’t make me forward it to your actual professor.

  Sierra Acosta: Gasp You wouldn’t!

  Me: lol Probably not.

  Sierra Acosta: Haha You are actually a lot different than I imagined you to be.

  Me: Are you upset that I’m not a balding overweight middle-aged guy?

  Sierra Acosta: Haha No.

  Sierra Acosta: But I do have you in my phone as Professor Dick.

  Me: lol Professor Dick? Actually my name is Alex.

  Sierra Acosta: Yeah you never sounded like you were in a good mood and you always talked down to me like I was a child.

  Fair. I’ve definitely been short with her.

  Me: Well, to be honest, some of your questions and excuses were… creative.

  Sierra Acosta: HEY all my excuses were valid!

  Me: You told me you couldn’t do your work because your cat vomited all over your laptop.

  Sierra Acosta: IT DID!!

  Sierra Acosta: The vomit was disgusting and it smelled. I didn’t want to touch my laptop for a couple of days.

  Me: lol Suuure.

  Sierra Acosta: Dick >.<

  We go back and forth like that for nearly two hours—jabs, fake outrage, stupid jokes. I’m actually enjoying myself, which is alarming.

  Me: Shouldn’t you be talking to your “friend” right now?

  The second I hit send I regret it. I don’t want her to leave.

  Sierra Acosta: Oh he is out with friends he will message me when he gets home.

  Relief hits harder than it should.

  Sierra Acosta: But I guess I am kind of hungry. I think I am going to get me something to eat.

  Me: Alright have a good night.

  Sierra Acosta: You too Alex bye bye

  She used my name. Not Professor Dick. Not Dick. Alex.

  Me: Bye

  I set the phone down, staring at the paused episode I never finished. Two hours ago I wanted nothing more than solitude and dragons. Now the room feels quieter than it should.