Who was bothering him at four in the morning? This was what went through Barry's mind as he slapped his nightstand, trying to find his vibrating phone. Curses filled his brain as the girl's journal slipped off the edge and thudded on the ground.

Once he found his phone, he struggled to open his eyes in order to properly operate it. Bright light blared in his eyes as he pressed a button and he muttered a swear. He had three missed calls from a number he didn't recognize and the screen was flashing as texts poured in from the same number.

Excuse me but if you have my journal, why won't you answer???

Are you not aware that I am not in a gaming mood? Answer me, nitwit.

I'm sorry, I'm not good with people, especially when they have my things. Let's try this again.

Hi, I'm mystery girl. You're Barry Atkins. You have my journal. I want it back.

Hellooo??

Belated realization filtered through Barry's head as he read the messages. It was the journal's owner, who he had called mystery girl in the first text. At this point, he had two options: 1) come to full wake-ness and answer her or 2) put the damn phone on do not disturb and go back to sleep for another two hours. He chose option number two, falling back into a cozy slumber.