I shouldn't be doing this.
That's the first thought I have as I stare at the bright red icon on my screen.
Hotline.
Anonymous. Explicit. No rules.
The app opens with a pulse of black and crimson, like a heartbeat, slow and ominous.
A message flashes across the screen:
Warning: This app contains explicit content. Conversations may include graphic language, sexual themes, and adult fantasies. Proceed only if you're ready to explore your desires—with strangers.
My thumb hovers over AGREE.
I could back out.
I should back out.
But then I think of Liam. Of how small I felt. Of the laughter. The sweet that sounded like an insult. Like a prison.
I've spent my whole life playing safe, being polite, being good.
What has that ever gotten me?
I tap AGREE.
My heart lurches like I just signed away my soul.
Choose your username.
My fingers freeze.
Username?
Right. I can't exactly go with "Cassie Rowe, Failed Flirt and Occasional Virgin."
After a full minute of painful overthinking, I type:
CinnamonQueen.
It's dumb. Soft. And kind of sad.
But I tell myself I'm just here to observe. No profile picture. No expectations.
My bio?
"First time. Be gentle."
I hit save before I can regret it.
And then… silence.
The app drops me into a feed of strangers. Some profiles are blank. Some have shadowy torso pics or blurred-out faces. All anonymous. All waiting.
I wait.
And wait.
Nothing.
No pings. No messages. No one wants the sweet, shy cinnamon girl.
A hollow ache curls in my chest.
I throw the phone on the bed and try to forget it.
Ten minutes later, I pick it up again.
I stare at my username like it personally offended me.
"Be gentle," I mutter under my breath, groaning. "God, no wonder no one messaged me. I sound like a baked good."
Fingers flying, I delete it all.
New name: HotSiren.
Bio:
"Bite, and I bite back."
I hit save.
It feels reckless.
Bold.
Not me.
But that's the point.
I barely have time to close the app before the screen lights up.
1 new message.
My stomach flips.
Username: DeepSignal
Profile: Shadowed jawline. Half a face. Leather jacket. Sin.
Bio: I don't play games unless they end in moans.
My face goes up in flames.
The message?
HotSiren. How hot are we talking here?
Oh.
Oh no.
He's hot and cocky and I have no idea what to say.
I stare at the blinking cursor like it might whisper the right words.
Think, Cassie. Think.
I type:
Hi.
That's all I manage.
Then immediately hate myself.
One stupid, breathless syllable.
I want to throw my phone across the bed. Or myself out the window. One of the two.
The reply comes seconds later.
HotSiren. That's a dangerous name for someone who says "hi" like a shy kitten.
My thighs clench, entirely against my will.
My pulse jumps. My fingers twitch.
He's already inside my head.
I stare at the message, my cheeks burning. It's a joke. A playful nudge. But it lands low—somewhere between my belly and my thighs.
I type, slowly.
I could be dangerous. You don't know me.
No. But I want to.
Just four words. But they land like a hand dragging down my spine.
You've got that good girl tone, don't you? Polite. Soft. Always saying please. Always obeying.
But underneath… I bet you've thought about breaking the rules. Just once.
I swallow.
I shouldn't respond.
I do anyway.
Maybe.
Maybe's a start.
Tell me something, Siren—are you blushing right now? Because I'm picturing you flushed and squirming… just from reading this.
God.
I am.
It's like he can see me. Like he knows exactly what I'm doing—tucked in bed, blanket around me, nerves in a tangle, skin prickling with heat.
Don't worry. I like blushers.
Means I'm getting under your skin.
I stare at the screen.
I shouldn't like this.
I shouldn't want more.
But every word he types drags me deeper. Like a hook. And I'm not just biting—I'm swallowing it whole.
What if I'm not blushing?
You don't know what I'm looking like.
(Okay, I am. But he doesn't need to know that.)
Nope. But I've got a good imagination. And something tells me I'm not far off.
God. My face is hot.
You're a little confident, aren't you?
Only when I'm right.
The confidence rolls off the screen in waves. I don't even know his name, and he already feels like a little danger. The kind you lean into when your heart's been freshly stomped and you have nothing left to lose.
So what made you download this app?
Bored? Curious? Broken heart?
I pause.
Too close. Way too close.
All of the above.
Hmm. A mystery girl with secrets. Now I'm hooked.
I don't type anything.
Because I'm smiling. Because my heart's racing. Because I'm waiting for what he'll say next and I don't even know why.
And then it comes.
Sweet dreams, Siren. Don't let the bad boys bite.
Unless you're into that.
User DeepSignal has gone offline.
I stare at the screen.
Did I just flirt with a stranger?
Why does my body feel like it's been kissed from the inside out?
I'm feeling better. I'm feeling good.