I stared at my phone, the name Kacia glowing on the screen like a blast from the past. My mind, still tangled with thoughts of Emily, screeched to a halt.
Kacia—before Emily ever entered my life, there was Kacia, someone I'd met on ChatNow nine months ago. She'd told me she was a teaching assistant at a community college in Atlanta, moonlighting as a part-time kitchen assistant. I hadn't heard from her in four months, not since our "e-dating" fizzled out. Seeing her name now, after everything with Emily, felt like the universe was playing a cruel joke.
Back when we first connected, Kacia had been all charm. After three weeks of flirty ChatNow DMs, she finally gave me her number—only after I'd practically begged. Our chats were electric, morning to night, filled with sweet texts and late-night calls. I'd send her long, heartfelt messages, and she'd reply with just enough to keep me hooked. I was smitten, convinced she was the one. After weeks of persistence, I asked her out, and she left me hanging with a "maybe." Undeterred, I doubled down with sappy texts and promises of a future together. Six months ago, she finally said yes, and our official e-dating began.
At first, it was perfect. I daydreamed about meeting her in person, picturing us strolling through Atlanta's Piedmont Park or grabbing coffee at a hip Midtown spot. Distance didn't matter—I was sure we'd make it work. But two months in, things soured. Kacia stopped calling or texting unless she needed something—specifically, funds. At first, I didn't mind. She's my girl, I thought. Gotta keep her happy on so no other guy swoops in. But it got old fast. Every call was the same: "Babe, can you send me some funds?" She'd beep me to confirm she got it, mutter a quick "Thanks," and hang up. The next call would only come when she needed more.
It became a pattern. She'd ghost me for days, then suddenly pop back up asking for money. I started feeling more like a simp than a boyfriend. One night stuck with me—about four months ago, she called around 10 p.m., her voice shaking, saying her mom was in the hospital and she needed $150 to get some pills. Panicked, I grabbed my phone, opened my banking app, and sent the money right away. Then I waited... and waited. No update. Nothing. I used jake's phone to check on her, disguising my voice as "Kyle from Atlanta." She didn't recognize me, and I overheard another girl in the background urging her to "drop him off and call someone else." She brushed me off, saying she was busy. That was the moment I knew I'd been played. My calls stopped, so did hers, and our "relationship" died quietly.
Now, seeing her name on my screen, I was stunned. She still has my number? I hesitated, then answered, my voice guarded. "Hello?"
"Ethan, hi!" Kacia's voice was bright, too bright. "Wow, you just ghosted me! So unfair."
I bit back a laugh. "Sorry, Kacia. Lost my phone a while back, got a new one, lost your number."
"Oh, really?" she said, skeptical. "Then how'd you know it's me?"
"Your voice," I lied smoothly. "Recognized it right away."
"Okay, cool," she said, her tone softening. "I've missed you, Ethan."
Yeah, right, I thought, rolling my eyes. Missed my wallet, more like. "Missed you too," I said, keeping it neutral.
"I'm coming to Athens next weekend for a friend's wedding," she said, her voice dripping with excitement. "We'll finally meet!"
"Nice," I said, my mind racing. "Can't wait."
"You sure?" she teased.
"Totally," I replied, but my guard was up.
"Oh, and, uh, babe, can you send me some funds? Just a little, like $20," she said, right on cue.
Here we go, I thought, my jaw tightening. "Not right now. My Cash App is short of cash. Maybe when I'm back home."
"Thanks, love!" she chirped. "Can't wait to see you next weekend."
"Same," I said, hanging up. Time for some payback for all the cash I wasted on her.
I dropped my phone as if it had burned. My thoughts spiraled into chaos. Should I send the $20 or not? Kacia's history was a minefield of smooth lies, especially that hospital stunt. I could still hear the echo of her laughter, light and wicked, as she joked with her friend, mocking "Kyle" like I was just another fool on her list.
But then… those damn ChatNow photos.
Her body curved like a spell, her smile like sin dressed in sunlight. There was a magic in her eyes—dangerous, magnetic—the kind that pulled you in and made you forget logic ever existed. That image, that vibe she carried… it had me under her spell for months, and somehow, it still tugged at me.
A part of me wanted to see her again. Not to rekindle anything real, but maybe to flip the script. Get even. Take the power back.
But then doubt crept in, dark and slithering.
What if it's just another illusion? What if she's not even coming to Athens at all?
I opened iMessage and messaged Jake.
Me: Yo, what's good?
Jake: King of suckers! What's up?
Me: Not that Emily crap again. You remember Kacia?
Jake: Who?
Me: That girl from Atlanta I told you about, before Emily.
Jake: Oh, the begging chick?
Me: Yeah. She just called, says she's coming to Athens next weekend.
Jake: Nice! Time for some fun, huh?
Me: Man, shut up. She's asking for $20 already.
Jake: Told you she's a pro scammer. Since she's coming to Athens, risk it and send the $20. Gotta play the game to win, right? But don't send another dime till you see her in person.
Me: Cool, thanks, man.
Jake: Don't be a pushover again, bro.
The next morning, on my way to my shift at Downtown Athens coffee shop, I sent Kacia $20 via Cash App. True to form, she called for a twelve-second "Thanks, babe" before hanging up. I didn't hear from her again for three days. On Thursday night, my phone rang—Kacia again.
"Hey, babe," she said, all sweetness. "Just reminding you I'm coming to Athens next weekend. You're taking me out, right? Maybe get me a little gift?"
"No problem," I said, keeping my tone light.
"Thanks, love," she cooed. "I'm missing you so much. Oh, and, uh, can you send another $20? I want to buy pizza. Please?"
Here we go again, I thought, my blood simmering. "Damn," I muttered under my breath, the old frustration flaring up.