Wrong Number ? Dylan O'Brien & Tyler Posey

"Who is this?" I spoke curiously into the phone, the tips of my fingers shaking. I did not know why I was shaking, but something about this guy's voice made me think of Dylan O'Brien. Dylan you might ask? Yeah, well, I'm not too sure either.

"I'm guessing this is the wrong number," The guy stated, giving a coyish laugh. 

"I'm guessing this is," I say, returning the same words. I ponder of the guy's laugh. It was so bitter, yet so encouraging, making me want to jump right through the phone and get a good look of his face. "Who are you, though?"

"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me," He laughs. Something inside of me told me this boy was cute. Not from the outside, because how could I possibly know something like that, but on the inside. His laughter was to die for, and I could tell he was grinning on the other line by the way he said his last words.

"Try me," I say. "You'd be surprised what I can fall for."

My friend Amanda was laying on her stomach, flat on my bed looking at me like a psycho. "Are you trying to seduce this person?" She asked, the low tone in her voice making this whole situation even more creepier, "Who the hell are you talking too?" I put my index finger up, indicating for her to hold on.

"Well, my name is Dylan," He says. This is either the famous actor, Dylan O'Brien, or maybe they're just a lot of Dylan's out there that sound like the famous Dylan. Or maybe this man is trying to trick me into thinking he's thee Dylan O'Brien. Or maybe... i'm not sure, but his name was Dylan. "You're probably confused. You're probably thinking, oh, why is this man sound like a complete psychopath trying to get you to tell me your name. And then maybe we'll FaceTime and both start to look at each other. And I'll start thinking how pretty you are. And then you'll start thinking how handsome I am. And on the third date we go on, I'll take you back to my place and watch 16 Candles repeatedly, while you stay mad of how they forgot Samantha's birthday, and i'll stay mad because I can't look as hot as Jake Ryan. But after we're done watching the movie, i'll kiss you on the head, being afraid to do anything other then a kiss because I want to be a gentleman. Then a year later we'll move in together, possibly in downtown Los Angeles. In a friendly neighborhood. We'll fight over what couch we want, but then in the end I end up throwing you over my shoulder telling you how cute you are. No matter how you look, no matter what we go through. Then we'll maybe have a beach themed wedding, and then have two kids, possibly named Anthony and Angelica because why not? And maybe we'll grow old together and end our lives holding hands and singing Cumbauya. You. Never. Know. How. Life. Can. Work."

"Jesus, Dylan. Just... wow," I was astonished by this guys choice of words and the whole statement he just shared. "Did you plan that out or.....?"

"Well, put it this way. I got these pair of socks for my birthday when I turned eight, right? So, it was wrapped in nice linen wrapping paper in a huge box, given by my Uncle Sal. It was a pretty big box," He says, telling me the story.

"Not that I don't want to hear about your amazing story, but why are you telling me this?" I ask, dumbfounded of this boy's sanity.

"Alright, well... anyways. It just turned out to be a pair of black, plain socks. Of course I was a little mad, hoping it was the new transformers or whatever, because I was eight. What would you expect from a eight year old boy? The point is, no matter how someone or something is on the outside doesn't mean it is on the inside. For instance, if we keep talking, people might just think it would be a regular conversation. But maybe for us, it would be so much more and maybe lead to so much more then a conversation. Do you get what I mean?" The seriousness in his voice made me even want to here more of his stories. 

"In some, strange, amazing way, I do know what you mean," I tell him smirking and sitting down next to Amanda.

"What the? Put it on speaker!" She yelled. I moved the phone away from my ear, and said to her, "Chill..."

I do as I was told because I also wanted Amanda to hear what he was telling me. Even if this dude was Dylan O'Brien, it never really mattered. 

"So, what are you doing now?" He asked. 

As Amanda heard, her eyes formed as if she was a deer in headlights. "Is that Dylan O'Brien?" She asked, still maintaining to keep her low enough voice. 

I pursed my lips together and shrugged, giving a sly smile. "I'm sitting on my bed. What about you?"

Before anyone could make a sound, even a breathe, my mom burst through my door. 

"Mom I'm on the phone," I said. 

"That just sucks then. Go make us some dinner, Cara. Me and your brother are getting hungry. I'm not in a famine, go quick!" She scolded. 

"You know what mom," I say getting up and lying my phone on my bed, Dylan still being able to hear every thing. "Make yourself some own dinner." I slam the door and lock it. 

"What now?" Amanda asked, muting the phone. 

"I heard there was a party at Mike's house. We should run there," I say. "Good idea," Amanda says.