Match Your Weakness With A Name

We're Already At Seven. Great.

I carefully read all the messages, trying to figure out exactly what the hell was going on. I don't know what I'd done. Derek and I had hardly spoken that night, and I hadn't done anything dangerous. I'd just done what everyone else was doing.

There were no gaps in my memory. The whole night, I'd stayed alert enough to be able to remember it later. I mean, so what my head hurts like a bitch now? I'm not that hungover. There was literally no space in there for me to have done something worth a bunch of mystery texts.

And what was with Jenna's message? "I'm sorry." What had she done to contribute to this?

I debate on who to reply to first, and decide that Mystery Texter Number Two is most worthy of my response.

??: I can't believe you did that.

G: One: who are you? and two: did what?

Nothing back, not even after ten minutes. I sigh and move on to a different person. Mystery Texter Number Three deserves some sass, or at least a stern talking-to. I don't know why I come to this conclusion, but I do.

???: Ew, who are you?

G: Clearly if you have my number, you know who I am. However, I do not know who you are. An appropriate response in this situation would be to tell me who you are, and why whatever it is I did deserves an "ew."

I'm not the best at sass, but thanks. I try. I don't even wait for a reply this time, instead going straight for another mystery texter.

????: I'm never going to forgive you for this.

G: Forgive me for what? I haven't done anything, nor apologized for it as far as I know. Especially not to you, a person of uncertain identity.

I don't know why I'm responding to rude unknown numbers instead of outright asking Jenna or Derek what exactly is happening and how I got involved with it. Maybe I should do that. Derek seems just as clueless as me, but he asked a legitimate question, so I reply to him.

D: Are you getting as many weird texts as I am?

G: Yes, in fact. How'd you know?

I wait a few minutes, and he actually texts back.

D: All my weird messages mentioned you.

G: Really?

D: Yeah. It was all shit like "Why Geoff, of all people?"

G: Honestly, yeah, why me? I have no clue what's going on.

D: I think I do.

Do I want to know?

Yes.

G: Tell.

D: Don't hate me.

G: I won't judge.

D: I slept with a dude last night.

I set my phone on my bedside table and take a deep breath, putting two and two together. All those mystery texters think I got with Derek. But I didn't, and Derek knows I didn't. It's hard to forget someone you fucked. Believe me.

G: And somehow, they think it was me.

D: Yep.

G: Have you told them it wasn't?