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June 18.

Remember when I said I don't have Matt's phone number?

Right, so he decided he was going to do things a little differently to get around that.

Instead of asking for my phone number like anyone else, he called the old telephone hooked up in my hotel room, the one used for room services and calling to the front desk. No one really uses those to be honest, they're just kind of there, and I had forgotten it was there until he called.

I mean, smart thinking on his part, but he surely could have gotten my cell phone number from Nick or Chris and called me that way. I guess this is one of the quirks that comes with sneaking around, though. Everything is unpredictable and unusual.

I wasn't expecting a call from him, certainly not from the phone in my room, and I swear, I think my heart stopped beating for a good five seconds when I heard it ring.

That makes me sound like such a weenie, but to be fair, I was really fixed on watching Tom and Jerry, because that's all I could find on the television. It was getting really intense, I mean, Jerry had a few close calls.

I didn't know it was him when I answered the phone. It had a room number on it, but I didn't know which was his, so my initial thought was that there was an issue in the hotel and I needed to be alerted of it.

"Hello?" my voice comes out shaky, from confusion and slight fear.

"Hey," he gives a nonchalant response, and my body relaxes when I can identify the voice. It's hard not to catch onto an voice like his.

"Matt!" I half-shout at him for the unnecessary fear he gave me.

"What!" he shouts back, his voice laced with confusion as to why I'm shouting at him in the first place.

I sit on the edge of my unmade bed, pulling the phone receiver onto my lap, because the cord attached to the phone can only be pulled so far. I wrap the coiled cord around my finger as I talk to him. "You freaked me out. I thought something was wrong when someone called me on this phone. Why didn't you just come here if you had something to say?"

He laughs on the other end of the call. "You got that scared over a phone ringing?" he asks through his breathy laughter. "I wanted to be creative. I thought this would be fun."

"You thought giving me a phone call was creative?" I ask, sounding too much like Matt yesterday when he wasn't hooked on the idea of us people watching.

"Mhm."

"What do you need?" I ask, not that he's holding me up from doing anything else.

"What are you busy or something?" he asks with slight offense in his tone.

"No," I say. "But did you need something?"

"What are you doing right now?"

I glance at the TV displaying a cartoon cat chasing a mouse around. Not exactly the most exciting thing to share, so I think I'll keep the details to myself.

"Watching TV," I tell him.

"Perfect," he says, and I can almost hear the smile on his face.

"Why's that perfect?" I reach for the TV remote on the other side of the bed to turn the volume down, struggling a bit when I run out of cord from the phone.

There's some shuffling on the other end of the call before Matt let's out a deep breath. "Come over."

I definitely want to, but I've been giving into him way too easily. I have to learn to start making him work for it a bit.

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