For the longest time

IV

I woke up rather early the next morning, mostly because my crappy motel room had no curtains and the single window was not soundproof. The repetitive honks of cars outside made me realize it was better to get up and do something, anything to get away from that room. 

Maybe get a job.

I took a shower and got dressed in the same jeans I wore the night before, they didn't smell so bad, and a new shirt I dug out of my duffel bag. Since I didn't have a blow dryer and I didn't feel like leaving the room with my hair wet, I decided to be civilized and make my bed with a towel around my head. 

And that's when it hit me. 
It hadn't been a dream.

Ed's number flew off the rough blanket and onto the floor. I was too scared to pick it up. Why? I'm not sure. Maybe it wasn't Ed's number. Maybe it was the receipt from the bar.

I finished fluffing the pillow that could not be fluffed and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the little piece of white paper a few feet away from me. 
I can't deal with this shit right now.
With a loud sigh, I stood up and walked back to the bathroom with no hot water, no soap, a tiny mirror and a defective flushing toilet. I thought to myself that this was all crazy. Why the fuck did I leave college? I was doing good. I had a few friends. Okay, acquaintances. I had an ex-boyfriend who made my heart hurt every time I saw him. It wasn't so bad, was it? I liked writing. Did I like writing what they wanted me to write? No. But maybe that was a start.
I clutched my hands onto the sink, trying to regulate my breathing that it was making my head a little dizzy.
I felt so stupid.
I breathed in and out until I calmed down. I untangled my wet hair and let it fall behind my shoulders. I walked back into the room and picked up Ed's number.

Impulsive got me into this mess. Now being rational was not going to get me out of it. Better keep stepping onto the accelerator. There's no way I can back out now.

"Hello?"

The thick accent was rather soft now that I heard it both sober and too early in the morning. I sat back on the bed with the phone glued to my ear, too scared to say anything. But I wanted him to know that I was there. I didn't want to take risks and then have them not working because I'm too scared. I cleared my throat.

"Hello? Who is this?"

"Ed?"

"Yeah?"

"Ed. It's Erin. From last night. I-"

"Hey, Erin"

"I- I'm sorry. You were sleeping" It wasn't even a question, it was so obvious. Not only in his voice, but in the clock that said 7:12, and it was a Saturday. "Sorry. No, I... just go back to sleep."

I heard a small chuckle, " 'S alright. The ringing already woke me up properly. I should get up anyway."

"Right" I kept chewing the insides of my cheeks, thinking, feeling nervous. But I kept talking. "Yeah, no. I mean, you gave me your number last night. I thought I'd call you. I thought maybe you did want me to call you."  I twisted my tee between my fingers, feeling so tense. 

"Yeah, that's alright. I like it. I actually didn't think you'd call. I mean, I was pretty depressing last night. I apologize for that."

"Are you lying?"

A mix of a sigh and a chuckle I heard. "Yeah, I'm lying. Shit, sorry. I forgot, like. I forgot that I actually asked you to co-exist with me. Oh my god, I'm such a dick. I'm sorry. Maybe I was so drunk. I... this is embarrassing... I'm sorry, Erin. I..."

He was trying to apologize for his drunken behavior from the night before and he was trying to forget it ever happened. He started to sound like one of those douchebags that hook up with a girl once, and then they gently reject her. They blame it on the alcohol. They blame their whole night on the alcohol and I knew he was lying. He was even using the wrong strategy. 

I could've believed his fake words if he'd actually tried to make a move on me; kiss me, hook up with me, get my number, ask me out. But he didn't do any of that. In fact, he gave me his number. He hadn't tried to flirt with me, not even in the I'm-so-lonely-and-messed-up-I-need-someone-to-teach-me-what-love-is way. No. He had been honest. He had been scared and awkward and he had been honest and I really, really doubted that was some kind of strategy to get me in his pants. So, why was he doing this?

He was scared, that was the only explanation. He was scared that I might've thought he was a nutjob.

But I didn't. I really didn't.

"It'd be nice to co-exist with someone," I ended up saying.

"Look, you don't have to-"

"I don't have to, you're right. But, honestly, I know no one here. I arrived two days ago. You're the only person I've spoken to for more than ten minutes and as bizarre as that is, I do want to co-exist. Alright, maybe it doesn't have to be you and it doesn't have to be me, but that's all I've got. That's the only plan I've got. I have no job, I have no friends, I have no certainty on anything. At least... I'd guess it'd be nice to have someone to co-exist with. I won't ask anything from you, you won't ask anything from me. It's an I-don't-want-to-be-alone-thing, alright? Maybe you could use that, too."

The silence went on for more than I expected. I could hear his breath through the phone and some people talking really far away.
I was tempted to hang up, but I didn't, and he spoke.

"I'm playing SNL tonight. Seth Rogen's hosting and I'm the musical guest and maybe you would like to come? So you don't have a lonely Saturday night?" he cleared his throat, "so I don't have a lonely Saturday night after SNL is over?"

I took a deep breath; impulsiveness got me here, impulsiveness is the way to move forward. "Alright, text me the address."

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Okay, sooooo I will probably edit this later BUT I really wanted to share it. I just JUST wrote it because I felt super inspired and now it's almost 2am and my eyelids are about to give up.

I hope you're enjoying the story. Honestly, I don't have a plan, it's just these characters that move the plot forward. 

I'm so tired.

Thank you everyone!

-TJ

*Edited