FOR TEXT MESSAGES!

Bold = Stranger

Italics = Sam Hunt

Sam Hunt, a twenty-five year old writer, glanced at his phone in confusion. His warm green eyes narrowing as he read a text message from a stranger.

-You know, it was damn rude to leave me stranded at her house last night.

-...Who is this?

-Calvin you jerkface. Don't act all innocent, dweeb.

Sam let out a snort.

-No one says "dweeb" anymore, novice.

-Okaaaaaay. You are definitely NOT my brother.

-I'll just pretend this conversation never happened.

-No. Don't.

-..........why?

-Because this is the most entertaining shit that's happened to me since Tuesday. No joke.

-Tuesday? Do you even SPEAK the English language?

-I rolled my eyes, Stranger. I'm glad we don't know each other.

-Why?

-Because you're gonna be my dumpster for all the weird shit that I am.

Sam let out a sigh as he tossed his phone onto a large stack of unedited manuscripts. He could already tell that this stranger was going to be a pain in his ass.