I stare down at the text.
"Daniel," I start to say. "I don't know..."
"What?" He gets up.
I hold my phone out to him and I wait for him to take it.
He reads the two texts.
"What is this? Who is this?" He asks.
I shake my head. "I don't know but it's starting to scare me."
"They just sent this a couple of minutes ago. Do you think they saw you?" Daniel stands beside me.
"I'm hoping to God that it's just a coincidence." I say, closing my eyes.
"Should we text back? Call?" He looks around.
I rub my arms to try to get rid of the goosebumps. "Would they even answer?"
"The best we could do is try. What should we say?"
"Um," I think. "Should we get mad or just be sincere?"
"I think being sincere might be the better route." He starts to type and then shows me what he wrote.
I read it.
'Please tell me who this is. I don't know what you want or how you got my number, but if you just talk to me, I'm sure we can work things out.'
"I don't know if this is too much." I say. But I send it anyway.
Their reply is almost instantaneous.
'Unknown: He didn't mention me?'
I look at Daniel with a confused expression.
'No, he didn't.'
'Unknown: I got your number from a friend.'
'Which friend?'
'Unknown: A friend of mine.'
'What's their name?'
'Unknown: How long have you guys been together?'
'That's not what this is about.' I'm getting frustrated.
'Unknown: Sure it is.'
"Daniel, they're not cooperating." I shove the phone at him.
He sighs. "Just stop texting them."
I slip my phone into my back pocket.
"Let's just go upstairs. We'll get some snacks and play BioShock and Call of Duty." He grins.
I laugh nervously. "Okay."
"What do you want? I made sure to get everything we liked." He starts walking toward the refrigerator.
"Do you have juice boxes?" I ask, following him.
He pulls a couple out. "Of course."
I twist the knob on the pantry and pull it open. "I know how much you like pretzels and Nutella."
"Mmm, yes," He rubs his stomach. "And there's also some honey buns in the cabinet."
I sit the Nutella and pretzels on the counter and open the cabinet below it.
Inside sits an unopened box of honey buns.
"What else?" I say, swinging around to face him.
"The Pringles!" He runs past me and swipes the tube from the countertop.
"Okay, upstairs!" I point up.
We gather up our snacks and run toward the stairs.
I drop the jar of Nutella and the pretzels on the couch, where Daniel deposits his armful too.
