messages • ethangrantdolan// short story

one

studying is possibly the most tedious thing to be done. it has the word dying in it. yes, I went to the point where I copied right off a text post and regret nothing. shit loads of finals means nothing but shit loads of studying. and I can say I hate it. who doesn't?

my phone began to vibrate once and ding, I resisted the urge to pick it up, but I'm a teen girl. of course I'll pick up the damn phone.

unknown number: hey, baby girl.

me: excuse me?

unknown number: Karyn?

me: who the hell is Karyn?

unknown number: ah, the wrong number fakeout. again.

me: they're must be something wrong with you to get fake numbers.

unknown number: there*

me: I don't know you, you don't have the right to correct my grammar

unknown number: I'm Ethan.

me: Okay.

Ethan: what's your name?

me: Maya.

Ethan: interesting

me: not really,

me: so how do I prove you're not catfishing me?

Ethan: here's my snapchat, and my Instagram.

me: before I add you, send a pic 

Ethan: okay...

picture message (above)

me: that's a screenshot

ethan: yeah, it is, but it's because my brother and I are YouTubers. have you never heard of the Dolan twins

me: lies

Ethan: ft me. cover up your face, if you want.

me: idk, you could be some creepy rapist 40 year old living in his moms basement .

ethan: actually, I live in LA, how bout you.

me: I stg, if you are some creep 40 year old rapist living in his moms basement jerking off to porn hub, I'll kill you.

Ethan: just press the FaceTime button, princess, it's not that hard.

I roll my eyes, clicking on the details button in the right hand corner of the screen, facetiming him. I hold my thumb over the camera, and he answers after two rings. and it was the guy in the screenshot. he definitely was not some creepy 40 year old.

he was a sexy piece of human that looked very young. like 19, 20.

"I told you, I'm Ethan Dolan. I gave you my snapchat and everything." he smiles and I admire his sharp, structured jawline and beautiful Hazel brown eyes. he has a birthmark/mole on his cheek and one by his eye, his hair one solid color and combed into a quiff. I bite my bottom lip,

"I guess you aren't that creep." I say,

"beautiful voice, princess, I'd like to hear it more often." he says and I hang up, lifting my thumb off the camera and opening the conversation again.

Ethan: why'd you go so soon?

me: gotta study, sheesh. finals.

Ethan: boy, am I glad I finished high school.

I decide to stop answering him, because if I don't I never will and I'll fail my finals, and my dad would kill me. my mom probably wouldn't notice considering she's not home a lot, and when she is, she's on her phone or yelling at my dad.

my phone continues to buzz, and I resist the urge. this time, sticking to it as I finish rereading the notes we took and looking over worksheets and home works. i have some confidence I'll do well, but when I think that — I fail epically and I realize I fucked up.

I shut my books and lay down, grabbing my phone and looking through the missed messages

ethan: you stopped answering but you read it.

Ethan: come on answer. you can study and text at the same time, don't be like that.

Ethan: I'll send you a dick pic

ethan: pleaseeeeee

ethan; mayaaaaaaa. mayyyyy

me: maya******

me: I was studying what the fuck.

Ethan: I missed you.

me: you didn't know of my existence until an hour ago.

ethan: whatever.

ethan: let's okay 20 questions. you first.

this'll be fun.