The Wrong Number Of Love

Ella Carter stared at her alarm clock, blinking in disbelief. 7:42 AM. How had she managed to sleep through not one, but three alarms? She shot up from her bed, her blanket tangling around her legs like it had been waiting for this exact moment to sabotage her.

"Perfect," she muttered under her breath, grabbing the nearest sweater and pulling it on inside out. She yanked her jeans from a chair and hopped into them as she dashed toward the bathroom. Toothpaste, a half-hearted splash of water, and a messy bun would have to suffice.

By the time Ella stumbled out of the house, her camera bag slung over her shoulder, the crisp autumn air did little to clear the fog in her head. She hadn't even had time to grab breakfast.

The bus stop was unusually crowded. High school students jostled each other, laughing and complaining about the upcoming math test Ella had conveniently forgotten existed. She sighed, adjusting her bag.

"C'mon, just one decent photo," she muttered, fumbling for her phone. Photography was her escape, her one constant since her mom passed away a year ago. She had found solace in capturing fleeting moments—sunlight filtering through leaves, raindrops clinging to a windowpane, laughter frozen in time.

Just as she snapped a picture of the orange leaves scattering across the street, someone bumped into her. Hard.

"Hey!" Ella yelped, nearly dropping her phone.

A boy with messy dark hair and a crooked grin turned around, a coffee cup in one hand and his own phone in the other. He had the look of someone who didn't take life—or time—too seriously.

"Sorry, didn't see you there," he said, though his tone suggested he wasn't all that sorry.

Ella narrowed her eyes. "You were walking and texting. Maybe try looking up every once in a while?"

The boy raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Noted." He tucked his phone into his jacket pocket and gestured to her bag. "What's in there? Secret spy gear?"

"It's a camera," Ella replied flatly, stepping past him toward the bus. She wasn't about to let some random guy derail her already chaotic morning.

It wasn't until she was sitting in her first-period class that Ella noticed something was off. Reaching into her bag for her phone, she pulled out… someone else's.

"What the—" She stared at the device, flipping it over. It wasn't her phone. It was black, with a crack running along the edge of the screen. Her phone had a bright teal case covered in stickers.

Her stomach sank as realization dawned. That guy. The one who had bumped into her.

Before panic could fully set in, the phone buzzed. A message flashed across the screen:

Unknown Number: You're welcome for the free coffee, by the way. - Noah

Ella's jaw dropped. Who even was this guy? And how had he managed to swap phones without her noticing?