Sometimes the wrong number is the exact one you need.
I’m far too old to be playing truth or dare anywhere, much less at a bonfire. Yet here I am, attempting to protect my little brother from himself, only to be the one in a hot-ass mess.
I accept one little dare: send a pic of your beast to your ex. I try to get out of it, using the excuse that I deleted their sorry self from my phone.
When a partygoer tells me they have the number, my plea is denied. And that’s how I end up sending a picture of my panther to my piece-of-garbage ex after drinking far too many beers.
Fingers crossed, he blocked me long ago. The next morning I discovered I didn’t send it to my ex.
Nope, it went to a total stranger, and the caption, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours” has the person on the other end thinking I’m keeping wild animals illegally.
I dug myself into this mess, and now I need to dig myself out of it, even if that means meeting the stranger before they report me to the Game Commission.
