There was no way.

I finished tapping the number in and, yep, sure as shit, that number was a match.

The receipt fluttered out of my hand onto the floor, and I gripped my phone extra tightly so I wouldn’t drop that, too.

Of course I recognized that number.

I’d been texting it for the past few days.

My number neighbor, the guy I’d been sexting and masturbating to, was Isaac.

My hot, British, next-door neighbor, Isaac. Who I’d had a crush on forever. Who was currently looking after my kitten, so of course he hadn’t been able to text.

I was sitting right in front of him.

And for the last few days, I’d been getting myself off and imagining screwing Nick Jonas, when the actual guy I’d been talking to was just across a driveway.

Holy mother of fucking God.

CHAPTER FOUR – HANNAH

Slap My Ass And Call Me Scarlett

ME: IT’S ISAAC

ME: MY NUMBER NEIGHBOR IS FUCKING ISAAC

I put my phone down after shooting the messages off to Immy and paced the room. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I couldn’t believe I’d spent the last few evenings sexting my neighbor.

Oh, God, he knew what my favorite sex position was.

I knew what his was.

How would I ever look him in the eye again?

Wait, never mind looking at him. How the hell was I supposed to call him? Presumably he had my number saved, but if not, he would probably save it after I called him, and my name would appear on the texts.

Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.

No. This couldn’t happen. Isaac could never know about this. I would have to move, and quite frankly, I didn’t have enough money to move.

My phone rang, and I answered the video call from Immy.

“What do you mean he’s your number neighbor?” she shrieked down the line, the phone wobbling as she walked down the hallway. “How can that be possible?”

“I don’t know, but it’s true.” I was still pacing. “I took Lucifer over because he’s really sick and Isaac gave me his number and when I put it into my phone, the Number Neighbor listing showed up and it’s his number!”

“If you don’t breathe, I’m going to hang up on you.”

I drew in a deep breath. “What the hell do I do?”

She shrugged and entered the bathroom.

“You’re not going to poop, are you?”

She flashed me her toothbrush. “You could sleep with him. I bet there are worse things you could do than sleep with a hot, British animal lover. In fact, I know you’ve done worse.”

“This isn’t the reassurance I was hoping for, I’m not gonna lie.”

“Why did you call me then?”

“I didn’t. You called me.”

She paused, then pulled the toothbrush from her mouth. “Then you really shouldn’t have expected any reassurance at all. Your unrealistic expectations are all on you.”

“You’re ridiculous. I’m supposed to call him tomorrow morning, but if I call, he’ll save my number, and realize that it’s been me he’s texting.”