My best friends name is Oliver. Oliver has been my best friend since we were three years old. We were three years old fourteen years ago. Fourteen years is a long time to secretly be in love with your best friend. Whose name is Oliver.

Mailibu, California
Sunday, November 13, 2007
2:55 a.m.


"I'm sleeping." I mumbled to the darkness.


I rolled over and reached blindly for the receiver.


"L-Dog it's me."

"Oliver? It's three o'clock in the fucking morning. You better be on the verge of death."

"Well...not exactly."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"You said you weren't exactly on the verge of death, meaning you're close."

"I lied."

"Shocking. Why are you calling me?"

"First of all; ouch. Second, I'm calling because I love the sound of your voice."

"Time and time again you prove that chivalry is, in fact, not dead."

"Your sarcasm is sexy."

"Only to the mentally impaired."

"Playing on my disability isn't fair."

"You calling me at three a.m. isn't exactly the epitome of reasonable."

"That just wasn't funny."

"Forgive me, Oliver, my comebacks are better at four."

"But that's a whole hour away."

"Your point?"

"I need you now."

"Are you coming on to me?"

"Please, can I come over? Lils, I promise I'll be quiet. You can go right back to sleep once I get there."

"Oliver, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Hurry your ass up then, I'm tired."

"Be there in a tick."

"You're such a dork."

"You think it's hot."

"Uh huh. I'll open my window."

"Thank you."


Dial Tone