Oh, this can't be happening...
It's a bad dream. It's a bad dream Oaklynn Turner...
Except for my trembling hands, racing heart and the written evidence contradicted my beliefs. I read and re—read the text message, hoping that somehow I made a mistake—I misinterpreted it. Anything but the ugly truth that glared at me from the screen.
My eyes flashed angrily as I stepped forward, reaching for my mobile phone. Then I remembered that all my contacts were somehow deleted from my device.
So much for technology. Technology that I had spent an arm and a leg buying as I wanted to keep up with the latest trends, I had invested in the latest model on the market. But now where did that leave me? It left me raving mad because I couldn't call my best friend Hailey Roberts to tell her that Tristan Maddox—my boyfriend since high school, had broken up with me just before Valentines'. He didn't even have the decency to tell me to my face. He sent a text message instead. Can you believe that?? A text message??!
Of all the obnoxious, underhanded—it was profoundly repugnant, even for him.
Well, I was going to tell him a piece of my mind if it was the last thing I did.
Swallowing hard and my chest heaving from the suppressed rage, I pressed the buttons of my device harder than necessary as I dialed the digits. I knew Tristan's number by heart of cos and could repeat it in my sleep. He was going to get an earful from me—just watch!
OAKLYNN: You are such a cheapskate—spineless man—no actually wait—you're not a man! You're a boy! A coward! Piece of shof! In fact, no insult is good enough for you! After you made me waste all that money at Victoria's Secrets and that stupid sex shop to buy all that stuff. You are the cum of the earth—
WRONG NUMBER GUY: Hey! Hey! Slow down there snowball—I don't know what I did to deserve this piss explosion but I told you it was just sex sweetheart—I can never offer you anything more than my—
OAKLYNN: What?! Who is this?!
WRONG NUMBER GUY: The cheapskate? Piece of shof?
OAKLYNN: Where's Tristan? What are you doing with his phone?
WRONG NUMBER GUY: Well, if I knew him I would warn him, because, he must have messed up pretty bad!
OAKLYNN: "I'm so sorry...I must have dialed the wrong number—I apologize."
WRONG NUMBER GUY: I'll accept your apology Victoria's Secret—but, to be honest, I"m kind of a Wonderbra guy—but only if you let me see...
WRONG NUMBER GUY: Obviously Tristan is dumb enough to turn you down but I'm not. We can't let the good stuff go to waste now, can we? It's a disgrace to the male race. Can't let that happen now.
OAKLYNN: Look I don't even know you—
WRONG NUMBER GUY: But we can get to know each other kitten just as long as we let our bodies do the talking. I already know that you have good taste in lingerie and sex toys—
OAKLYNN: I'm going to hang up now...
WRONG NUMBER GUY: "Wait! We just got to the good part kitten.
OAKLYNN: You must be really horny or bored or both—
WRONG NUMBER GUY: Touche baby but you're the one that has all the sex toys and lingerie stocked up for your wild night...And you clearly have a lot of pent up sexual frustration. I can help you with that.
WRONG NUMBER GUY: Did I stutter sweet cheeks?
OAKLYNN: You're really something you know that?
WRONG NUMBER GUY: Oh, sweetheart! You have no idea!
OAKLYNN: I can only imagine...
WRONG NUMBER GUY: You don't have to imagine me sex kitten. I can paint you a pretty good picture.
OAKLYNN: Gosh! You're incorrigible!
WRONG NUMBER GUY: Just give me a sec there babycakes, I need to get my dictionary.
OAKLYNN: I can't do this—bye!
WRONG NUMBER GUY: Wait! I need to ask you something before you hang up...
WRONG NUMBER GUY: What color underwear are you wearing?
WRONG NUMBER GUY: I'm beginning to think you need a hearing aid kitten."
OAKLYNN: Whatever you say, Dr Dolittle.
WRONG NUMBER GUY: I think we got off on the wrong foot...and I'm being a total jerk. It's obvious you need someone to offload to, so I'm listening. Talk to me, baby? Tell daddy all your problems and he'll do his best to comfort you, the best and only way he knows how to.
OAKLYNN: What would have possessed me to talk to you about anything?
WRONG NUMBER GUY: C'mon sexy pants... I'm trying to be nice here.
OAKLYNN: Why would I tell a stranger about my problems? An insensitive one at that.
WRONG NUMBER GUY: Because a stranger is impartial and not biased babycakes. Your best friend, on the other hand, will obviously side with you and trash the poor sod to pieces.
OAKLYNN: Thanks but no thanks. I've gotta go now.
WRONG NUMBER GUY: Offer still stands sweet cheeks. Text me when you change your mind. Noon or night.
OAKLYNN: I doubt it will come to that but sorry for—about you know—the mess up.
WRONG NUMBER GUY: No harm done sweetheart. At least you've made a new friend now.
OAKLYNN: Don't get it twisted douche box. We are far from friends.
WRONG NUMBER GUY: And yet here we are...
OAKLYNN: It was a mistake—
WRONG NUMBER GUY: I didn't get your name?
OAKLYNN: Not going to give it so save your breath.
WRONG NUMBER GUY: So we'll just stick to Victoria's Secrets then? Or do you prefer Wonderbra?
Without dignifying his question with a response I cut the call as I shook my head. Whoever that guy was, he had a lot of time on his hands. He was such a pervert. I even felt sorry for his girlfriend—if a douche like that was even capable of having one. But women were strange creatures, we were usually attracted to guys who split filth out of their mouths and we loved them for it.
My gaze went to my desk, and I realized I didn't even do any work today. I had a pile of work that needed to be done and I would probably have to stay until late. I was an intern for a very successful fashion magazine and hoped to break into the business by working as an intern or assistant to an established editor.
I couldn't mess up such a good opportunity because of a guy so I straightened my back and got back to work.