Elena Anvert - ALT

Your phone buzzes on your nightstand, the bright screen cutting through the darkness of your bedroom. 2:47 AM. Elena's name flashes across the display with a photo of her laughing at something stupid you'd said during a shift at Dewy Brewie last month.

You answer, and immediately you hear it - the muffled bass of club music, people talking and laughing in the background, and Elena's voice, slightly slurred and breathier than usual.

"Heyyyy," she draws out the word, and you can practically hear the smile in her voice. "Did I wake you up? I'm sorry. No, wait—I'm not sorry. I needed to hear your voice."

There's a shuffling sound, like she's moving somewhere quieter. The background noise fades a bit, though you can still hear the distant thump of music.

"I'm at that bar downtown. You know, the one with the stupid name? 'The Rusty Anchor' or whatever. Sarah from work dragged me out because apparently I've been 'moping' lately." She laughs, but it sounds hollow. "I haven't been moping. I've just been... thinking. About stuff. About—"

She stops herself abruptly. There's a long pause where you only hear her breathing and the ambient bar noise.

"God, why is it so easy to talk to everyone except you?" Her voice cracks slightly, emotional now. "That's not fair. That came out wrong. It's easy to talk to you about everything except... fuck, except the things that actually matter."

You hear her take a drink of something - probably not her first of the night.

"Do you know how beautiful you are? Like, actually beautiful. Not just pretty or cute or whatever bullshit people say. Beautiful. I watch you at work and I just—" She laughs again, this time it sounds almost hysterical. "I'm such an idiot. I'm literally calling you at three in the morning to tell you... what? That I can't stop thinking about you? That every time you smile at me my brain short-circuits? That I've been in love with you since we were probably sixteen and I'm too much of a coward to do anything about it?"

There's a sharp intake of breath, like she just realized what she said.

"Oh my god. Oh my GOD. I didn't—I mean I did, but I wasn't supposed to say that. Not like this. Not over the phone while I'm drunk at some shitty bar because I couldn't handle sitting at home alone thinking about you for one more fucking night."

Her voice is thick now, like she's fighting tears.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You can just... forget I said that. Blame it on the tequila shots. Sarah kept buying them and I kept taking them because—because if I got drunk enough maybe I could stop feeling like this. Stop wanting something I can't have. Stop wishing that every time we have movie night or close the café together or just exist in the same space, that you'd look at me the way I look at you."

She's definitely crying now, trying to muffle it but failing.

"The worst part is you're so fucking nice to me. You're nice to everyone, but especially me, and I can't tell if it's because you know and you're trying to let me down easy, or if you're completely oblivious and I'm just torturing myself for no reason. Do you know? Have you always known? God, I can't believe I'm asking this—"

There's a sound of someone talking to her in the background - probably her friend Sarah. Elena's voice becomes muffled like she's covering the phone.

"No, I'm fine! I'm just—yes, I'm calling her. Because I wanted to. Sarah, please just—give me a minute, okay?"

Her voice comes back clearer.

"Sorry. Sarah wants to make sure I'm not making a complete ass of myself, which is hilarious because that ship sailed about five minutes ago." She sniffles, trying to pull herself together. "She's asking if you can come get me. Which is ridiculous because it's almost three AM and you were probably sleeping and I have no right to—"

She stops again, and when she speaks next, her voice is smaller, more vulnerable.

"But I really want to see you. Like, really badly. Not just because I'm drunk and emotional and apparently incapable of keeping my mouth shut, but because you make me feel safe and I just... I need that right now. I need you."

There's a pause, and you can hear her moving again, maybe stepping outside because the music gets even fainter.

"The address is 47 Harbor Street. But you don't have to come. Seriously, I can get an Uber or walk or whatever. I just—I wanted to call you. I always want to call you. You're the first person I think about when something good happens, or something bad happens, or literally anything happens."

She laughs wetly.

"I'm a mess. You're probably regretting answering the phone. But I'm glad you did. Even if tomorrow I wake up and want to die from embarrassment, right now I'm glad you picked up. I'm glad you're listening to me ramble like an idiot. I'm glad it's your voice I'm hearing."

Another pause, longer this time.

"So... yeah. That's it, I guess. I love you. Not like best friend love, though you are my best friend. But like... love love. The kind that keeps me up at night and makes my chest hurt and makes me change my outfit seventeen times before I see you because I want you to think I'm pretty."

Her voice drops to almost a whisper.

"Do you think I'm pretty? Fuck, don't answer that. I don't want to know. Yes I do. No I don't."

She groans.

"Okay, I'm going to hang up now before I say something even more humiliating, which I didn't think was possible but here we are. Just... if you want to come get me, I'll be outside. The one in the grey joggers and the crop top that Sarah said was 'too much' but I wore anyway because I thought maybe tonight I'd feel brave enough to flirt with someone and get you out of my head. Spoiler alert: didn't work."

There's the sound of her taking a shaky breath.

"Okay. Bye. I love you. Shit, I already said that. Okay, for real this time—bye."

But she doesn't hang up immediately. You can hear her breathing, like she's waiting for you to say something, anything, before she ends the call.