Sweet Talk

It's officially booty o'clock, I'm alone again in my kitchen choking down a slice of terrible chocolate cake…and I'm pretty sure I just got drunk texted by the man I have a ginormous crush on.

I've been daydreaming about Eliot Hoffman's dimples for two months, and even though I'm sure this was a mistake on his end, it doesn't mean it's not an opportunity on mine.

It's the middle of the night, and I just wanna talk to him. So I text him back.

And then somehow we keep talking…ALL NIGHT. We're both insomniacs, so talking all night soon turns into talking EVERY night. And talking about no