"Hello?"
"Hi. Um... How's it going?"
"Pretty... Good."
"Alright. I know it's late. I'm sorry. And... I'm also sorry that this is probably going to be a very weird phone conversation."
"Oh... kay."
"Are you in a room by yourself?"
"...No."
"Oh. You might want to get so that you're in a room by yourself."
"...Okay."
"Alright, I - Uh... I - There is no way to do this that isn't awkward, so I'm just going to be honest with you, now, awkwardly, and cut the crap and tell you that I like you."
Silence.
"And if those feelings are mutual, that's great, and if they're not, that's fine, and you need to tell me that, and please try not to get freaked out. I mean, we should keep hanging out, and not kill the band."
Silence.
"Or, as a third option, if you need more time to think about it, that's fine too. And... Please don't get freaked out."
"...Honestly, I'm getting freaked out."
"Alright, well... That makes two of us. I... can understand getting freaked out."
Silence.
"Maybe it'll just be better if we talk about it later."
Silence.
"So... I'm gonna go now. Bye."
"...Bye."
"I'm... really sorry."
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