Fake Numbered

JO

"Josephine Amelia Hamilton!"

My best friend's booming voice makes me flinch, and I almost drop the magazine I'm reading on the balcony of our hotel room. I sit up straight and search my brain for things I could have done wrong because I know I'm in trouble when she calls me by my full name.

"Uh, yes, Madeleine Rose Osborne?" I respond when I turn around to where she emerged out of nowhere.

"Are you serious?" She raises her eyebrows so high that they disappear underneath her bangs.

I take off my sunglasses and narrow my eyes at her before they go wide. I stare at my friend, who glares at me with one of my plain white cotton panties dangling from her left index finger. With a gasp, I jump out of my chair. "What are you doing with my underwear?" I snatch the panties from her and ball them up to hide them from her scrutinizing gaze.

"I was searching for the skirt you said I could borrow, and I found that." She points to my hand. "Where's all your sexy lingerie?" she asks with an exasperated huff, crossing her arms over her chest and tapping her foot.

I grimace. "At home, in my underwear drawer, where it belongs. Mads, I'm not here to hook up. I'm here to enjoy the sun and some cocktails on the beach."

"You're hopeless, Jo," she says with a long, low sigh. "But I should have guessed something like that when you wore a one-piece bathing suit today."

"Mads, I appreciate your concern, but I promise, over the next four days, I will not be in a situation when I'll wish for my lace panties."

"Honey, when was the last time you were in a lace-panty-situation? Those panties crave some male attention."

I snort but lift my hands in defeat. "Okay, you're right. Once we're back home, I will let you sign me up with that dating app."

Mads eyes go wide, and she claps her hands. "Yes! You won't regret it. That's awesome." She chuckles and checks her watch. "Anyway, I'm off." She looks at me. "Are you sure you'll be fine on your own?"

"Of course. I'll be sitting here, enjoying the view while reading about the latest celebrity gossip."

Mads says goodbye with a tight hug before she grabs her purse and is off to have drinks with a guy she met at the beach today. Sometimes I wonder how she does it. We only got here yesterday, and she already has a date. Well, she is gorgeous with her long and wavy dark brown hair and her dark chocolate complexion; not to mention her killer smile and mile-long legs that make any guy an easy prey.

Once the door slams shut, I lean back in my chair with a contented sigh. My gaze wanders over one of the pretty beaches of Key West before I deeply inhale the ocean air with a blissful smile and close my eyes to enjoy the last rays of the setting sun. It's already nice and warm here in Florida, even though it's only the first week of March. I push away thoughts of the cold weather that awaits me back home and grab my magazine.

But just as I put up my feet, there's a knock on the door. Hm, did Mads forget her key card? With a sigh, I jump to my feet and answer the door. "Did you forget the condoms?" I ask before I even see who stands in front of me. But when I do, my smile falters, and I gasp before an "Oh shit!" escapes my lips.

It's not my best friend who knocked on the door but a tall, handsome guy with messy blond hair that makes my fingers itch to run them through it and sparkling blue eyes the ocean can't compete with.

Okay, sorry. Sometimes I get carried away, but this man is gorgeous, and it's been a while since one of those stood in front of me.

He smirks at me. "No, I didn't forget the condoms." He pats the back pocket of his well-fitting jeans where I assume his wallet to be. Of course, I blush scarlet when my gaze lingers on his lower body a little too long—as if this whole encounter wasn't embarrassing enough already.

When my eyes snap back to his, I catch him suppressing a laugh. I clear my throat. "I'm, uh, sorry... I thought you were my friend," I stammer. "Um, how can I help you?"

He looks at the note and then at the number on my hotel room door. "Well," he says with a sigh. "I was hoping to find my date here."

With narrow eyes, I stare at the note he holds up. It says "272" in neat handwriting. I check my room number, which is 272, and give him a sympathetic smile. "Are you sure you're at the right hotel?"

He frowns. "Yes, I am sure. Are you sure this is your room? Or is there an Italian brunette in there somewhere?" He points behind me.

"No." I laugh. "It's just me. I'm very sorry, but I think you got fake numbered."

He narrows his eyes at me. "I... what?"

"That Italian brunette you're looking for gave you the wrong room number," I explain.

He lowers his head and slumps his shoulders. "Shit," he mumbles. "I knew it was a little too easy."

I give him a sad smile. "Sorry. That sucks—especially for that nice champagne." I point to the bottle and the two glasses in his hands.

He shrugs. "Yeah, shame." Taking a deep breath, he straightens up and gives me a weak smile. "Well, I guess I'll go drown my sorrow. I'm sorry for disturbing you."

I shake my head. "Don't worry about it."

With a small wave, he turns and disappears around the corner. I look after him with a chuckle. Poor guy!

I return to the balcony, and sometime later, I'm done with my magazine and watch the setting sun. I lean on the railing and watch the people who are still scattered around the beach.

Even though I enjoy the quiet solitude of the hotel room, I suddenly feel fidgety. Maybe I could explore the hotel a little. Didn't I read something about a roof terrace with a pool? I grab my purse and make my way to the elevator, and a few minutes later, I step out onto the roof terrace into the still nice evening air, taking in the beautiful view of the ocean. My gaze wanders over to the pool and the few people that are out here too—some going for a swim and some more relaxing on the loungers.

When my eyes land on the guy to my left, I let out a small laugh. Sexy Stranger sits on one of the loungers, the champagne bottle placed on the ground next to him. So he didn't find his Italian brunette.

I'm about to leave when he turns his head and his eyes land on me. He obviously recognizes me because he lowers his gaze and laughs. Looking back up, he tilts his head to the side and waves his hand in an invitation to join him.

With furrowed brows, I check if anyone is standing behind me before I return my gaze to him, pointing to me and mouthing, "Me?"

With another laugh, he nods, so I walk over to him. "Hey," he greets me once I stand next to his lounger.

"Hey," I reply. "So I see you didn't find your date?"

With a deep sigh, he shrugs his shoulder. "I guess it wasn't meant to be."

"I'm sorry."

He waves his hand. "Ah, whatever. I'd just hate for that champagne to go to waste." He looks at the bottle next to him, then back at me. "Would you like to join me? Or are you meeting anyone?"

I consider his offer for a moment. This isn't something I'd usually do, but there's something undeniably attractive about him, and I'm on vacation after all. What's the worst that could happen?

"No, not meeting anyone," I tell him. "So, sure, I can join you for a bit."

"Great," he says with a sweet smile. "I'm Liam, by the way."

"Hi, I'm Jo." I take his outstretched hand before I sit down on the lounger next to him.

"Nice to meet you, Jo."

And before I know it, I'm enjoying a glass of champagne along with the magnificent view from the hotel roof with a handsome stranger. Mads definitely wouldn't believe me if I told her that now.

"Are you here by yourself?" Liam asks after we've taken the first sips of our drinks.

I shake my head. "No, I came with my best friend. But she's off to have some drinks with a guy she met at the beach today. What about you?"

"I'm here with my best friend too." He laughs. "And he's the one who's spending a quiet evening in our hotel room. He didn't want to go out tonight because we're going back to L.A. tomorrow early in the morning."

"You're from L.A.?" Okay, I need to calm down a little. I've talked to him for about ten minutes, and already I'm disappointed that I'm probably not going to see him again. "I'm from New York," I tell him.

His eyes widen. "Really? My family lives in New York," he says with another sweet smile. "I only live in L.A. because of my job, but at some point, I will move back. How long are you in Key West for?"

"Just four days. I have to be back in New York by Monday. Work," I explain, and it's taking me all I have not to jump to any conclusions—like the possibility that I might see him again. Seriously, I need to calm my hormones.

"What do you do?" Liam interrupts my internal rambling.

I clear my throat and shift on my lounger. "I'm a wedding planner."

He laughs. "A wedding planner, wow. So I guess you're a hopeless romantic?" he asks with a wink.

I roll my eyes but laugh as well. "Oh, on the contrary. I believe love is hard work. There has to be a mutual attraction, but once you're past that first hormonal infatuation phase, you have to make the decision to stay with your partner every day anew. Building a solid foundation is crucial before you make a—hopefully—lifelong commitment."

Liam chuckles. "Is that the pep talk you give the couples before you agree to plan their wedding?"

I smile. "No. Not really, at least. I did advise one or two couples to overthink their wish to get married, though."

He gasps. "You didn't! What did they say?"

I shrug. "Well, one couple postponed the wedding. Another couple is divorced by now."

"You have to tell me more about that," he laughs. "I'd never thought that talking about weddings could be this interesting."

And so we spend the evening talking about anything and everything. I'm seriously amazed at how we never run out of things to talk about. Hours pass, the sun sets, and I'm glad I brought my sweater to put on when it gets a little chilly.

At some point, we're the last ones out here, and I check the time. My eyes go wide when I realize it's close to midnight.

"Oh, wow," I say as I sit up. "I should get back to my room."

Liam looks at his watch. "Ah, you're right. I've got an early morning; I should go too." He gets up and holds out his hand to help me stand. "Come on, I'll take you to your room."

I give him a silly smile and agree. Only now do I realize that the champagne makes me feel a little fuzzy, and I'm glad Liam holds out his arm so I can link mine with his.

Once we stand in front of my door, Liam turns to me. "Here we are."

"Thanks a lot," I say, still with the silly smile on my face. "This was–"

That's when the door swings open, and we are met with a glare. "Where the fuck have you been?" Mads scolds. Her eyes dart from me to Liam and back to me, assessing the situation. "What's going on here?"

"I, uh, well," I mumble. I clear my throat before I continue, "I checked out the roof terrace. That's where I ran into him again."

I point to Liam, who stretches out his hand. "Hi, I'm Liam. Due to fortunate circumstances, I ended up in front of your door, and Jo was kind enough to keep me company."

"O-kay," Mads says hesitantly. Her eyebrows squish together as she narrows her eyes at us. "Well, I'm Madeleine, and I have no idea what you guys are talking about."

I bite my lips. "Sorry, Mads. I'll explain later."

Liam chuckles. "Okay, I guess I should get going. Thanks so much for a pleasant evening."

"You're welcome. It was fun." I turn to Mads, who still stares at us with pursed lips, and I give her a look that only a best friend can read.

She clears her throat. "Right. Um, I'll wait inside. Bye, Liam." Before he can answer, the door slams shut.

Liam turns to me with another chuckle. "Again, thank you," he says with a sweet and sexy smile that sends a tiny shiver down my spine. "Do you, um, have your phone? I can give you my number so you can call me sometime?"

My lips lift in the probably goofiest smile yet as I hand him my phone and watch him type in his number. "Thanks. I'd love to call you and chat some more."

His smile widens. "Great. Bye, Jo." He leans closer and brushes his lips over my cheek in a barely there kiss, but it's enough to revive the butterflies in my stomach. I thought they were dead by now.

"Bye, Liam. Have a good flight home."

And with a nod and another gorgeous smile, he's gone. Sighing, I enter my hotel room, close the door, and lean against it, and a moment later, Mads turns up in front of me. "You ran into him? After he ended up in front of our door?" she asks with raised eyebrows.

I shrug. "I checked out the roof terrace, where he sat by himself because he didn't want to go back to his friend, having to tell him that his initially planned date didn't go as expected."

She shakes her head. "You have some explaining to do, Josephine. Fill me in on everything!" she demands.

And that I do.

"For goodness sake, Jo. Text him already." Madeleine groans from the lounger next to mine where we spent the past hour sunbathing by the pool.

I lift my gaze from my phone and look at her with furrowed brows. "What are you talking about?" I ask her, and I roll my eyes when she glares at me. "Okay, I know what you're talking about. But I can't text him after two days."

Mads snorts. "Says who? From what you've told me you two hit it off, and from what I saw, you were very comfortable with each other. So text him; ask him if he got home okay."

I frown. "Really?"

"Yes. Really."

With a deep breath, I type out a short message.

'Hey, Liam. This is Jo. Did you get home okay?'

Wow, what a witty text! The frown on my forehead deepens as my finger hovers over the send button. Damn, why am I so nervous? My palms are sweaty, and I feel nauseous, but when Mads suddenly stands next to me and presses send, I'm close to fainting. "What the fuck?" I yell. "Are you crazy?" I stare at my friend wide-eyed.

She laughs. "Jo, what's the worst that could happen? He's got your number now, so the ball's in his court. Just sit back and wait."

I snort. "Yeah, because that text was so smart and funny that he probably can't wait to get in touch."

"Aw, sweetie, stop worrying. He certainly–"

My beeping phone interrupts her, and she squeals. With trembling fingers, I unlock my phone to read the message, but when I do, my breath hitches in my throat, and my heart sinks.

"What is it?" Mads asks when she sees my pained expression. As my answer, I hold up the phone to her, and she gasps when she reads the text.

'Nice to meet you, Jo. Unfortunately, this isn't Liam. I think you got the wrong number.'

Wrong number? But this is the one Liam saved on my phone. I can't believe he would do something like that after our evening together—after what that other woman did to him.

I can't believe he fake numbered me.