I'm still wide awake by three in the morning, cursing myself for being so stupid and apparently incapable of hanging up a phone call when necessary.

"I can't believe I did it again. With him, of all people," I grumble.

Jasmine has gone to bed already, which is something I should do too. Instead, I find myself in front of my laptop, binge-watching Scrubs for the quadrillionth time to calm my nerves.

"I'm such an idiot."

And it's true, I really am. I've always been clumsy and all over the place. People called me Misfortune Mila in high school and picked on me for always saying or doing the wrong things. Obviously not much has changed since then.

I half-mindedly continue watching my favorite show, although my brain is overwhelmed with self-pity and shame. I'm still trying to fathom what the hell is wrong with me.

But I suddenly hear Hayden's phone chime. It's the ringtone I set for my number after the hundreds of notifications on his phone annoyed me. Now I know it's him, at least.

You know, I thought I would've been at least a mind-blowing ten, but I'm not gonna complain.

This guy. Oh, my God.

Come on, don't leave me hanging here. The message appears about fifteen minutes later, and I consider typing a reply but decide against it. He's just going to make fun of me, anyway. Did I scare you away, Lucky?

"Yes, you did." I sigh.

But suddenly I don't want to be the girl who gets scared away anymore. I want to be the girl who stands her ground and is confident and self-assured, even if I'm anything but.

I gather all confidence and wit I can find before I type out a response. Lucky?

What a reply, Mila. Wow. You really showed him.

Oh, she's alive! The message immediately appears on my screen as I pack away my laptop.

It's three AM, I should be fast asleep. As should you. Five AM is an unreasonable time to be awake.

It isn't when you need to catch a flight at seven.

I look at the phone in my hands for a second, trying to figure out how to talk to this guy. I'll grant an exception is the only thing I come up with.

Thank you, m'lady. I tip my fedora for you.

An unexpected chuckle escapes my throat, and I glance around my dimly lit bedroom, almost as if trying to see if someone noticed, although there's obviously no one here.

So, why are you up at three in the morning? Another text shows up on the screen.

Well, wallowing in self-pity and embarrassment is not the confident answer I'd like to give him, I guess.

Work. I answer, which isn't a lie. I sat in front of my typewriter until an hour ago or so. He doesn't need to know that I didn't write a single word today.

Does your boss hate you?

What?

Yeah, keeping employees busy until three in the morning... Sounds like a horrible job!

I frown at his words. I love my job, but it can be stressful as hell. Sometimes it is. I don't see the point in correcting him, because part of that wasn't a lie. Writing is my passion, and my first novel has been quite successful, but the pressure from everyone around me has blocked my mind somehow. So, what do you do for a living? I ask. I don't know why we're even chatting like this, but I can't deny that he intrigues me.

Hayden doesn't answer for a while, and I almost fall asleep with the phone in my hand until my ringtone startles me, his reply glowing on the screen. Sorry, I had to rush to get my cab. It takes another minute or two before he answers my question with another text. I'm an athlete.

Seems like that's as far as he'll describe himself. And even though I'd love to know more about him, I can't blame him. I know what it's like. That explains the jet-set life.

Kind of, yeah. His response sounds less than enthused.

You don't like it? I snuggle into my duvet, turning off my night lamp before I focus on the reply that pops up on my screen.

I love my job. Hate everything else that comes with it, though

That doesn't sound too fulfilling.

Does your job fulfill you?

His question catches me off guard, and I end up thinking about it. Does it fulfill me? Initially, I would've said yes, it does. But right now, I feel more trapped than ever, and it's sucking all the energy out of my system to even think about getting my job done. Not always, no.

Sorry to hear. The message comes in soon after my own, but I don't recognize his words anymore, having settled my glasses on the nightstand next to me and only half reading what he wrote.

Tiredness washes over me before I know it's there, sending me into the land of dreams as I get another message.

Sleep well, Lucky.

***

"Mila!" Meredith's high-pitched voice echoes through the apartment, and I immediately throw the covers over my head. Maybe if I hide in here, she won't find me. "Mila! Get the fuck up!"

I groan at the sound of Jasmine's voice. Now I know I have to get up. Ugh.

After slipping out of bed and putting my glasses on, I wrap my hair in a bun, trying to flatten out the mess I created during this restless night. This guy is starting to rob my sleep...

I walk into the living room, holding a hand in front of my mouth to hide a yawn while I study both Jas and Mer, who look like they're about to explode from happiness. "What's going on?"

My friends can't even wait until the question leaves my lips, they just start jumping up and down and squeal in excitement. "We're going to New York!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" I blink a few times, still registering the information.

"Well, we had the ten-year anniversary party at the firm yesterday, and there was this raffle, and well...I won!" Meredith squeals again before she claps her hands in cheerful bliss.

"Wait, you won three trips to New York?"

"I mean, I won two. But I spoke to my boss and offered to use that opportunity to get work done for the new article I'm writing." Mer is a journalist. After starting at an established sports magazine about a year ago, she's now one of their most valuable assets. She's a sports freak and knows every little thing about every athlete, including their dating history and probably which brand of underwear they're wearing. "So now I got three tickets to the L.A. Lions game in New York!" Her voice gets all squeaky again, and even Jas flinches at the sound of it.

"Geez, Mer. I'm excited too. But please tone it down a notch," Jasmine finally exclaims.

"I'm just thrilled!" Mer laughs before walking toward the kitchen, our hangout spot for most days.

I groan as Jas pulls me into the kitchen, the walls still looking messy as hell after we tried to paint them a few weeks ago. Pastel-blue-colored stains cover the ceiling and our old parquet floor, making it our very personal sanctuary.

"We need to plan this, so..." Meredith grabs a pen and paper from the wooden shelf and starts scribbling, while I still stand there, half asleep and rubbing my eyes as I try to make sense of this situation.

"Mer, stop for a second, please."

She looks up at me with her dark-brown eyes, her black bangs hiding her brows as they shoot up. "What is it?"

"I...I can't just go to New York like that. I have a deadline to finish. Don't you have work too, Jas?" I regard my best friend, who answers with a shrug.

"Nope! I moved some shoots so now I can do one in New York with this basketball hottie I've been hunting down for ages." Jas leaves me hanging, and the knowing grin on her face tells me she's not too sad about that.

Great. My last resort went down the drain.

"Mimi, you need to take a breather. Did you write anything at all in these last two weeks?"

Meredith's question sends a wave of embarrassment through my veins. The past weeks have been a disaster. People rely on me, and I disappoint them as I drown myself in self-pity instead of doing something.

"See?" Mer speaks up again when I don't answer her question. "Babe, you need to stop being so hard on yourself. Get out of here and away from that ugly-ass typewriter to refresh yourself."

I take a seat on the padded bench, grabbing a blanket and pulling it over my shoulders, my lips turning into a frown as I retort, "Mathilda is not ugly!"

Mer waves her hand around, her eyes widening as she points at me, shooting Jas a look that says it all. "See? That's what I'm talking about! You can't walk around, calling your typewriter Mathilda, and then expect us to not think it's obsessive and weird."

"I know it's weird. Obsessive? I don't know..." Anxiety and embarrassment tighten my throat, and I snuggle into the blanket around me, trying to hide from Mer's judging eyes.

"Oh my God, Mila!" Meredith calls out, and Jasmine chuckles as she slides into the seat next to me, wrapping one of her brawny arms around my shoulders.

"She's right, you know," she whispers with her calming voice, even though we both know Mer can hear us loud and clear. "I mean, not about Mathilda—I love that girl—but about the fact that you need to get out of here."

Jas always understood that Mathilda holds a special place in my heart, and she never judged me for giving my possessions weird names. She even jumped in on it. But still, I really don't feel like leaving the house...

"Of course I'm right!" Mer interjects. "Please, Mila, it's been so long since the three of us went on a trip. Our jobs have been keeping us busy, and I just miss you guys!"

A sigh escapes my throat; I know I'm defeated. She's right, it's been way too long since the three of us found some time for each other. "Ugh, fine. We're going to New York." I finally give in.

My friends jump from their seats, clapping their hands in excitement like little kids, and I can't help but laugh at the way they goad each other. I might not share their enthusiasm, but I'm happy they're happy.

"Wait." Jas whips her head around to raise an eyebrow at me. "Isn't your mystery man supposed to be in New York?"

"The guy who got your phone?" Meredith asks for confirmation, and I sigh as I look at the phone in my hands.

"Yeah, that guy. But I mean, I don't even know if he has time to meet me there. He's probably busy..."

"Nuh-uh," Jasmine chimes in. "No way we're doing that. You're going to text that man and tell him you'll be in New York tomorrow and ask him if he can meet you."

"I don't—"

"Mila, get your head out of your ass and text him." This time it's Mer who interrupts me. "You want to finish this phone debacle? Text him and ask for a meeting. That way you'll get your phone back and get to meet him again."

That's exactly the point, though—I'd have to meet him. Texting is one thing. Texting is easy, and I still managed to be awkward while doing that. How the hell am I supposed to survive another real meeting with him?

"Come on, Mila. Just text him and see what he says. You can start worrying about everything else afterward." Jasmine voices her opinion.

She's right. There's no use in getting nervous when he's busy in New York and probably doesn't have the time for a proper meeting, to begin with. Also, I have to meet him eventually, so I might as well just get it over with. "Ugh. Fine."

Before I can overthink everything, I open the message app and type out a text, my best friends' eyes on me as I try to find the right words.

Hey. My friends and I are going on a spontaneous trip to New York. I was just wondering if you had the time to swap the phones back since you're there. If not, then no problem, I just figured I might ask because, you know. But we can also meet in L.A. when you're back—just let me know. I can totally arrange my schedule at your convenience.

And right as I hit the send button, a massive tidal wave of humiliation crashes right into me. My ability to embarrass myself in front of this guy is extraordinary. "Oh my God, I hate myself." I whisper while burying my face in my hands.

Jasmine immediately catches on. "What is it?"

I get out of hiding, look at the phone, and then back to my friends, who now both stare at me with wide eyes. They probably already know what's going on, and I'm not surprised when Mer snatches the phone out of my hands before reading my message. "I can totally arrange my schedule at your convenience..." She gasps. "Mila! Oh my God!"

They both stifle a laugh when I snatch my phone back, suddenly not feeling like going to New York anymore. If even my best friends laugh at me about this, then Hayden must think I'm a complete idiot.

"No, look. It's not that bad. It just sounds like you're trying to schedule a business meeting or something," Jasmine explains.

"Well, I only want my phone back..."

"From what Jas told me, you want that tongue back in your mouth, girl. And that's where it belongs."

"Mer!" I grab one of the candy wrappers from the table and throw it toward her.

"What?" She laughs and leans back in her chair. "I'm just saying! You deserve to have some fun with Mystery Man..."

Heat creeps into my cheeks from thinking about his lips on mine, about his hands on my skin. My body remembers every single spark rushing through my veins when his fingers brushed over my cheek, when we breathed each other in like it was the only thing we needed to survive. God, and I don't even know him. I don't even know his last name.

"Girl, you got it good!" Jas laughs out loud. The effect Hayden has on me, even in my memory, must be discernible.

A weird sense of discomfort travels through me; the sudden urge to get away from everything and everyone makes me clear my throat before I slide out of my seat. I need space to gather my thoughts. Being alone is a default setting in my life, and sometimes it's the only comfort I have.

"You can start planning. I just need a minute, okay? I'll be there for movie night later." I grab the phone from the table and step away, the humiliation of this situation taking control over any rational thought I have left.

Jas immediately chimes in, her voice laced with sincerity. "Sorry, Mimi, we didn't mean to—"

"No, no. It's fine." I stop her by raising my hand. "I only need a minute." Tears prickle in my eyes as I dash into my room, my emotions overpowering my senses.

I love Jas and Mer with all that I have, but sometimes they just don't understand what it's like to be the way I am. It's fun and games for others, but for me, it's everyday life. Being awkward and clumsy is only charming for a minute or two, until you realize this is actually my life, not some cute misfortune. It's exhausting and confusing, but most of all it's breaking my heart on a regular basis.

After I stuff some peanut butter cups in my mouth, I let the soothing effect take over my soul as I lie down in bed, chewing the mouthful of chocolate with a sigh.

I once read sighing is your brain's way of trying to reboot itself after working too hard. With the amount of sighing I've done today, I'm starting to think it's trying to destroy itself.

The familiar jingle that echoes through my room creates a violent thunder in my chest; the prospect of reading Hayden's response to my humiliating message gives me an entirely new level of anxiety.

No need to arrange your schedule at my convenience, Lucky ;) I'm working all day on Thursday, but I'm free Wednesday evening, or Friday for lunch. Just let me know what works for you.

Oh. My. God. He agreed to meet me?

I know I should talk to the others and ask about their plans, but I can't find the courage to go back out there. They told me the game is on Thursday, so I might be able to do it on Wednesday...

Wednesday sounds good. Where do you want to do this? God, this sounds like I'm trying to schedule a really bad drug deal. Why am I so nervous? It's not like I'm going on a date with him or something.

How about we weave this whole thing into dinner? It would save me some time. His response lights up mere minutes later.

Wait...am I going on a date with him or something?

No. Surely not. There must be some other reason. But I can't just say no, can I? Sure. Where?

Let me know which hotel you're staying at. I'll look for something close to there. Wouldn't want you to have to drive home with a stranger now, would we? ;)

I can't help but smirk when I read the last text. He is a little full of himself. I don't know what you're talking about. I'd never do that.

I'm sure you wouldn't, Lucky.

Never.

And I guess you'd also never make out with that guy and then run off, huh?

Wow. That took a turn.

Unsure how to respond to that, I wait for a minute, the heat in my cheeks making me hot and sweaty as I try to think of something smart to say.

Not that the guy would be mad about the making-out part...

His reply only worsens the fire in my cheeks. He's not mad about the making-out part? Does that mean it was good? Was it bad, but he didn't mind much? Was it okay?

Ugh, men are the worst. Can't they just say what they mean?

Because that was really fucking hot, Mila.

I release a little squeal before I press a pillow on my face, hiding from no one.

Did he just say that?

What am I doing with this man? He's obviously not afraid to go all in, and I have no idea how to respond to his behavior. I can't just not answer, can I? No, that would be rude, right? I could only agree I reply. If that had happened. Which it definitely hasn't. I'm glad I muster up something resembling a hint of confidence, protected by the shelter of a text message.

Of course, it didn't... Well, I'm looking forward to Wednesday, Lucky.

See you Wednesday, Hayden.

Oh, God. What am I going to do?