I throw away a chip bag after I finish eating. I feel the relief of not having to do anything else for the rest of the day. I can sleep until late afternoon tomorrow, doing absolutely nothing.

I fall onto my bed and pull a blanket over my head.

I think I'm going to pull a George. I'm going to fall off the grid for a while because I'm sleeping. It just sounds like such a relief of no responsibilities for the rest of the night.

Well, until my phone rings.

I don't even bother checking as I answer it. Next time I'll remember to look first.

"Hello?" I say into the phone.

The only sound on the other side of the call is wind blowing. I check to see who called and notice it's Wilbur.

"Wil?" I ask, sitting up slightly in bed. "Are you okay?"

Heavy breathing tells me he's alive, followed by the sound of someone readjusting their phone to their ear.

"Maia?" he asks.

"Right here," I assure him. "Are you okay? Where are you?"

"I'm walking." He stops for a moment to do something.

"Just a casual stroll?" I laugh a little bit before checking the time. "It's almost midnight, Wilbur."

"Well... I'm a little tipsy. Just a tadd." His voice goes into a whisper and he drags out his words.

"A little?"

"Okay, okay you caught me." He sighs like that was tiring even though I asked two little words. "I drank a lot. I don't think there's any more alcohol in that pub." Wilbur laughs at himself.

I ignore his joke. "Are you with anyone?"

"Nope."

I sit up straight now. He's drunk and alone in Brighton?

I could call an uber to go pick him up and text his flatmate that he's coming home. I actually do have the guy's number in case of emergencies. I would say this is important enough to use it.

That's the thing, though. I could do that for Wilbur, but there's also the side note of me having feelings for him. And what's the thing about having feelings for your tall brunette best friend? It's that you tend to make the dumber decisions. And that's probably the reason for my next words.

"Can you stay on the phone until you get home?" I ask him.

"Oohh.. I'm going to the beach," he explains, "but I can still stay on the... on the tellie if you want."

"Please do." I won't be able to sleep tonight if I don't know if he's safe.

"Okay." He stays quiet afterward.

Except when he's quiet, I don't know if he's still there or not.

I start to ask questions just to keep him there with me. "Did you have fun tonight, Wilbur?"

"Eh," he deliberates, "I've had more fun at pubs before."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm," was all he said.

I don't ask any more questions although I do want to know if our night would be one of those more fun nights. I shake the thought out. I told myself that I was going to forget what happened just like he said. It's no big deal. None at all.

"Maia?" he asks.

"Yeah?"

"I think you're a reallly good person," he says rather loudly.

I laugh a little. "Thank you, I think you're a good person too."

"No, no you don't understand," Wilbur says, "My bandmates love you. They think you're awesome and asked if you were ever ever going to come back."

"To Brighton?" I ask to clarify.

"Yeah, that's where we are, silly willy." He chuckles at my dumb question.

"Well, what did you tell them?" I ask, actually wanting to know the answer.

"I told them I wasn't sure." Wilbur sounds a little sad now. I blame it on the alcohol. It is known as a depressant. "Do you know the answer Maia? Will we get to see you again?"

I sigh. It's awkward between us, but I refuse to let my feelings get in the way of our friendship.

"I don't see why not." I smile even though he can't see me. Maybe the smile will help tell myself that it's not a big deal.

"Good."

We're quiet once again. I start to worry what he's doing all by his drunk-self..

"You still there?" I ask.

"Mhm," he hums, "Are you?"

I laugh. How would I have asked the question if I wasn't'? "Yes, Wilbur."

"I decided against the beach. I'm like... really tired," he explains.

"So you're going home now?"

"Yupp." He stays quiet for a few moments before talking again. "I have a question."

My heart speeds up a bit, not sure what in the world is going on in his mind.

"I may have an answer," I reply. My voice is wavering between nervous and confused.

"Are we happy, Maia?"

"Umm.." I think for a moment. Lately I've been a little more stressed than anything. I could say there are times in my life where I was generally happy-ish, but only a couple moments where I felt it truly and completely.

One would be getting ice cream with my parents and Max. It was before Cassie was born and the divorce. We were your average-okay family. My parents were each other's best friend, and my brother's only responsibility was getting to football practice. It felt.. Normal? But honestly, who wants normal? I love my crazy family now.

Another happy time would be when George and I went on a spontaneous vacation to Italy one weekend. It was random and out of character, but we were both struggling in life and searching to feel something. I guess happiness was that.

And of course my night with Wilbur/Lucas. That was a night of pure bliss and happiness. I wish I was still living the after wave of that happiness, but now it's blurred in confusion. I have to keep telling myself to get over it. It was no big deal.

But altogether am I happy? Is that what he's asking?

"I'm not sure," I whisper to Wilbur.

"Me neither." He huffs. We're quiet for a few moments before Wilbur speaks again, "I was happy that night."

I don't even have to ask since it was on my mind too. "Me too. That was a good night."

"Lucas and Lilly were fun people," Wilbur says wistfully.

"They were." I laugh a little.

Something inside of me begs for him to tell me he wants to go back. To tell me he wants a redo as ourselves. To tell me it meant something.

I should just admit defeat and move on. This phone call shouldn't excite me. This is what friends do; they help their drunk friends by staying on the phone. He told me we were just friends, and that the night on the field meant nothing to him.

And in all honesty, if Wilbur said right now that the night meant even the slightest bit of something, I don't think I could stop myself from getting on a train.

But he says nothing. He doesn't and I don't, so we stay silent. For a solid two minutes all I hear is his heavy breathing and the cars outside my flat.

"I'm home now," he says. I can hear the clicking of the door opening and then the sound of it shutting.

"Okay, go get some sleep," I tell him.

"Alrighty." He sighs. "Night Lilly."

My heart stops for a second and then bends in half, not quite breaking yet.

"Night." I say quickly before hanging up.

He called me Lilly.

I find myself once again conflicted. He called me the wrong name which is bad, but couldn't it also be a good thing?

On one hand, he wasn't talking to her. He was talking to me: Maia. Not that persona I took over for a couple hours while drunk. He had the wrong girl in his mind.

I chew the inside of my lip. But aren't I also Lilly? That's the version of him that he's allowed to have feelings for, right? Doesn't that mean he was thinking about that night and me in that context? Does he want to go back there?

I sigh as I lie back on the bed once again. I want him to have feelings for me, not her.

My phone rings. I check who it is this time and pause over the accept button below Wilbur's name.

I tell myself the only reason I accept is because he's drunk and could be in trouble.

"Hello?" I say quietly.

"I wanted to tell you something." He doesn't wait for me to reply before saying, "I wrote a song about you."

And then he hangs up..