I drum my fingers on my thigh, staring at the clock above the tv with some random show playing that I’ve probably seen a million times before. It’s nearing midnight and I’m itching to call you. To see you. I know you’re still awake, you’re practically a damn insomniac. But the main issue is that for weeks I’ve been going back and forth on deciding if I like you.

We’ve been just friends for years now and lately things have felt…off between us. Off in the way that we stare at each other a little too long. Casual brief touches cause more awkwardness than they used to.

Nah, I don’t like her like that, I think to myself, scoffing as I lean back against the couch. Fuck, maybe I do.

As my mind flips from decision to decision, eventually I cave and snatch my phone off the coffee table, dialing your number.