Androphobia

ii. stranger danger

There was a number written underneath.

Call this number if you need it.

I gaped at the words in shock, reading it and rereading it until I could recite the message word for word without looking. "Ruffles," I scolded, shooting the named culprit a glare, but she didn't even budge; she just opened her eyes from her sleeping position and observed me for a moment, pupils narrowing.

I couldn't believe what was written here.

What was this supposed to mean? Was I indebted to him now? No, that couldn't be, not when he was offering his help if I was ever in a situation like that again. I just couldn't help but feel slightly... intimidated by the message.

But I also couldn't just move on and forget about him. He had saved my life. I owed him that much gratitude.

And so, with trembling hands, I unlocked my phone and typed in the digits of the mobile number, my fingers trying not to slip and make a mistake.

There was no need to be afraid.

I blinked when I realised that I had already pressed the call button and when slow, steady rings started to sound from my phone, I frantically began to panic. Oh no! Should I end it and prepare what I was going to say first? And was I supposed to speak first or was he? What if this was all a ploy just to get my phone number and stalk me and my cat? What if-

"Qué coño quieres? Usted sabe mejor que llamarme en mi número privado."

[Who the fuck is this? You know better than to call me on my private number.]

Huh?

"U-Um," I said, feeling my body tense up at the voice.

That voice.

It was almost unrecognisable. What I had heard last night was a butterfly from his mouth; now I was met with a venomous wasp, distaste and dominance leaking from its stinger. But I was sure it was him. The voice gave me the same sensation in my stomach.

For a split second, my throat went dry. My breathing went ragged. But I managed to control myself before it became too audible - audible enough for him to hear.

"Is that Italian?"

Stupid. Stupid. I should have asked if this was the right number!

There was more quiet on the other end and I felt myself growing even shyer. "Hello?" I repeated quietly, as if asking such a question in the first place was a terrible insult.

"I'm here, baby."

I almost choked at his final word. Did he really say what I thought he said?

"Hi," I whispered again. I almost slapped my forehead - why was I such a doughnut? "I-I mean, pardon?"

There was a deep, amused hum on the other end, and then a quiet mutter of, "Tan linda." Before I could ask what that meant, he was speaking again. "Why did you call this number?"

[So cute.]

His accent was so gorgeous, I was afraid I would pass out again before I could hear any more of it. And there was also the fact that I had never really engaged in conversation with a man outside of my family, aside from when it came to work or school. Then again, this was hardly a conversation, with me struggling not to make evident gasping sounds as I calmed down my thundering heartbeat.

I stammered, "I-I just wanted to say thank you for last night. If it weren't for you, I don't think I'd-I'd have ever reached home."

Something clinked at the other end of the call like a glass being set down. "There's no need to thank me. I happened to be passing by and wasn't about to let a young woman be attacked by two... fuckers."