Assistant manager- [M.S]

34

Matt Sturniolo

June 26.

I spent yesterday thinking.

A terrible idea really.

Thinking only leads to an overload of thoughts - an overload of overthinking until the only thing you can think about is what you're the most scared of thinking about.

Confusing, right?

No more thinking.

I'm trying to focus on doing things without thinking - the things that I'll back out of if I think about too much.

Like talking to Alyssa.

When we got back to the hotel, everyone went straight to their rooms and went to sleep. We got back pretty late, but early in comparison to the rest of the party.

You would think since the party was for us to begin with that we would be one of the last to leave, but you would be wrong. I had never been happier ditching a party and going back to my hotel room.

I told myself I was going to talk to her yesterday, but I backed out again. I thought I would give her some space before pounding her with all of what I needed to say. I needed to make sure she was in a position to want to talk, and I also needed to make sure I was clear about what I felt before confessing everything.

I'm right about how I feel though.

I just need to talk to her.

She's one call away.

I hate that this is what's happened between us - hanging out then running away from each other when anything gets too far for our comfort.

But to be fair, I knew this would never be just hooking up. I knew this would lead somewhere else, I just tried to convince myself otherwise.

I sit with my legs hanging off the side of the bed as I pull the hotel's landline telephone into my lap, typing in her room number before I can stop myself.

It rings a few times, and I'm honestly starting to hope that she doesn't pick up. At least then I can say I tried, but I don't have to worry about things going south.

I'm almost positive it's the last ring, but then there's another, and another.

Then she answers.

"What do you want, Matt?" her voice comes through the phone quietly, letting me know that I had in fact woken her up, just as I thought.

I'm taken back at her response when she answers, immediately knowing it's me without me saying anything.

"How did you know it was me?" is all I'm able to ask, my voice coming out a bit louder than hers since I haven't been able to fall asleep yet.

When I called her before, she said I had scared her because she didn't know who it was. I don't think she knows what my room number is, which is the only description given on her phone's caller ID, so there isn't a way that she would be able to recognize me on the other end without hearing my voice.

She lets out a tired sigh, or maybe annoyed.
"Who else would bother me at three in the morning?"

True, but that's when I think about you the most.
"Sorry for waking you up. But I need you to come over," I tell her, running my hand through my hair and tightening my fist around a chunk of hair while I anxiously wait for her response.

"I'm not coming over. What's wrong with you?" She tries to shout at me, but her morning voice - or suddenly waking up in the middle of the night to a random phone call voice - holds her back.