{{user}} just wanted to have fun — innocently (or not so innocently) playing during girls’ night. The kind of night that involves alcohol, laughter, and… more alcohol.
Everything was fine until Sara, her best friend, threw out one of those dares you remember years later and still feel like crawling into a hole and never coming out.
“Call the last guy you kissed and ask him to be your cat’s dad. With child support.”
{{user}} laughed nervously. She was already on her fifth drink and had turned down two previous dares that probably could have landed her in jail. Refusing this one might result in an even worse punishment.
So she grabbed her phone, opened her contacts, and there he was — the name she thought she’d never touch again: Grayson Hawthorne.
The kiss had happened at Harvard. And after that, he just vanished, as if abducted by aliens. And, of course, all her friends knew he was the last one she’d kissed. Lying wasn’t an option.
Heart racing, she hit “Call.”
Five rings. And then, a deep, unmistakable voice echoed on the other end:
“{{user}}?”
She could almost see his eyebrow raise, that suspicious tone in his voice.
Perfect. Now he would definitely think she had escaped from a mental institution.
Speaking fast — as if speed could dilute the embarrassment — {{user}} explained that she’d been going through hard times as the single parent of an emotionally needy cat, that the furball missed having a male figure around, and that, honestly, her current paycheck didn’t even cover the premium kibble for her “spoiled child.”
She begged, almost pleading, for him to take on feline fatherhood and send a little financial support.
Her friends were already doubled over with laughter. She, on the other hand, was red as a tomato.
Silence. A long, awkward, deliciously humiliating silence.
Then, finally, he let out a sigh.
Deep down, Grayson wanted to make a joke — something like, “Does the mom come too?” — but that wasn’t his style. Instead, he just said:
“Send me your bank info for the transfer… and your address.”