Cleo: At the risk of escaping the stalker behind me and leading another right to me, I’m in U. of Minnesota.
Unknown number: Ditto. Want me to come walk you home?
Fear seized her chest. The only thing worse than the idea of being followed home by a stranger was the idea of dragging some poor guy out of his house to rescue her from nothing more than her overactive imagination. It was why she hadn’t messaged Molly. She didn’t want to bother her for no reason and end up looking foolish.
Cleo: Thanks for the offer, but I could be overreacting.
Unknown number: At least tell me what he’s wearing.
Cleo: I can’t say I’ve ever had a guy text to ask me what another man is wearing. This is certainly new territory for me.
Her hand flew to her mouth with a hiccupping gasp.Take it back!A strangled groan escaped from between her fingers. Was she flirting with this guy? At a time like this? She never flirted. She didn’t even know how.
Cleo: He’s wearing a green (I think?) North Face hoodie, jeans, and the whitest sneakers I’ve ever seen. It’s dark out, but I’m still blinded by their brightness.
Unknown number: LOL! I can’t say I’ve ever messaged a woman to ask what another man is wearing. Guess this is new ground for both of us. And if he’s not stalking you home, we might still need to call the fashion police for crimes against shoes.
Cleo: I’m not sure I’m in a position to judge someone else’s fashion sense. I spend my life in yoga pants and flats.
Unknown number: Nothing sexier than a woman who isn’t afraid to live her best life in a pair of yoga pants.
Butterflies fluttered in her chest. Could it be? A man on the planet who wasn’t preoccupied with a woman’s appearance? This guy had to be a catfish. With a wry grin, she changed his name on her phone to the all too nice Mr. Bingley, from her favorite book,Pride and Prejudice.
She was almost home. A quick check over her shoulder revealed she was alone and relief snaked its way through her muscles. Her mom always told her you could never be too careful. Better safe than sorry, and Cleo didn’t want to be another statistic. Bad things didn’t always happen to bad people, and too many rapists wandered the streets while women were called liars or told if they had dressed differently they wouldn’t have been attacked. Cleo shuddered and picked up her pace. One of Molly’s friends had been raped in her freshman year. The poor girl had to sit in class with her attacker every single day, knowing what he’d done to her.
Mr. Bingley: Did he get you? Or did you make it home and *gasp* discard me like yesterday’s trash?
Cleo: Neither. I passed out from shock at the idea there might be a man in existence who doesn’t care what women look like. I also changed your name in my phone.
Mr. Bingley: …? To what? You can’t just leave it there. Talk about click bait. Also, I’m glad you weren’t murdered. And it’s kinda sad you have such a low opinion of men. Many of us don’t care about yoga pants.
Cleo: Mr. Bingley.
As she approached her door, she tucked her phone in her pocket. She dug her key out of her backpack, before making her way up to her room.
Dropping her bag to the floor, she filled and turned on her mini kettle. She needed some decaf tea to help calm her nerves after the walk home. She’d been half-convinced she was going to die. She pulled out her mug and dropped in a tea bag before sitting cross-legged on the floor to check her messages while the water boiled.
Mr. Bingley: You’re kidding, right? That bumbling idiot, Bingley? I’m low-key offended right now. Post-pride Darcy, that’s what I should be under in your phone.
Cleo: Okay, now I DEFINITELY call bullshit. There isn’t a man alive who lovesPride and Prejudiceenough to know who either those dudes are, never mind both. I’m home by the way, and I appreciate you escorting me home, even from a distance.
Mr. Bingley: I have two sisters. Each of them prefers a different version, so I spent no less than 65% of my teenage years being subjected to countless re-runs of both the BBC version and the Keira Knightley version.
Cleo: And which did you prefer?
Mr. Bingley: A loaded question if ever I heard one. I feel like the fate of our very early day friendship might be hanging in the balance here. But I do, in fact, have strong opinions on which Darcy is better and I won’t change them for any woman, no matter how charming she might be.
She tapped on her chin as the dots danced on her screen, indicating he was typing.Wait. Did he just say I was charming?A smile tugged at the corner of her lips and warmth seeped into her chest. People thought her aloof, intimidating, and intense, never charming. This was a first, and she wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.
Mr. Bingley: Colin Firth.
Her smile grew.
Cleo: Phew. For a moment I thought I was going to have to delete your number from my phone and never talk to you again. Your answer is correct: Colin is theonlyDarcy.
She pulled up his contact info and changed his name to Mr. Darcy, before dropping Molly a text to let her know she was home in one piece and to make sure Molly didn’t need rescuing.
Mr. Darcy: Phew indeed. Glad you’re home safe and sound, feel free to hit me up any time you need someone to pretend to text you on your way home.
