Page 2 of The Play Maker

Unknown:

I’m going to kill someone.

I remember blinking at my screen like an idiot when I first read it.

Me:

I’m scared to ask who this is.

But also very curious.

Unknown:

Bailey?

Me:

Wrong number.

That should have been the end of it. A normal person would have said “oops, my bad” and moved on. But not her.

Unknown:

Oh. I guess you won’t help me hide the body then.

Me:

Are you joking or should I be concerned right now?

Unknown:

Relax. It’s a hypothetical murder.

Me:

Good. For a second I thought I was gonna have to turn you in.

Unknown:

Right. Because if I were actually a murderer, I’d totally text a confession to a random number.

I snorted so hard I almost choked on my protein shake. And before I knew it, we were still texting an hour later.

Then the next day.

And the next.

And somehow, two weeks later, I was still texting her.

It wasn’t just jokes anymore. We talked about real shit. Stupid childhood stories. Late-night confessions. Things we’d never admitted to anyone else.

But the one thing she refused to tell me? Her name.

I scroll down a little more, finding the texts.

Me:

We’ve been talking for a whole week now and you still won’t tell me your name?