'This is Owen right?'

'Isn't my contact in your phone?' -Owen

'Well, yeah, but I'm just making sure...'

'Why exactly are you texting me at three in the morning?' -Owen

I look at the time on the top of the screen and realize that it is, in fact,that late.

'Whoa. Didn't realize it was this late... Or early, I guess.'

'How can you just not realize it's the middle of the night?' -Owen

'Hey, why are you replying in the middle of the night?'

'Good point. I'm going to bed.' -Owen

'Wait, I'm so bored! Don't leave me here.'

'You should go to sleep too.' -Owen

'I can't!'

'What? Why?' -Owen

'Because I'm not tired.'

'Well, I am.' -Owen

'No you're not.'

'Actually I am.' -Owen

'If you were actually tired, you wouldn't even be replying to any of these messages. You'd be asleep.'

'Zzzzzzzz.' -Owen

'Hah. Funny.'

It becomes apparent that Owen actually has succeeded in falling asleep. My mind is buzzing and far from resting.

I get out of bed quietly and walk across the room where my desk sits. I wonder if anything inside would spark any memories. I'm supposed to be getting them back in a few days or so.

I pull open a draw and only find pens, pencils, markers, and post it notes. I open the one beneath it. There is a stack of plain white copy papers. In the bottom drawer is a bunch of candy such as Skittles, Starburst, Snickers, Jolly Ranchers, and Dum Dums. I reach through, trying to find a Watermelon flavored Jolly Rancher, but instead my hands fall upon a small book.

Was this my diary?

I open it up to the first page.

'Brinley's very private journal, don't open.'

The handwriting looks like a seven year old wrote those words. I flip past all this younger self stuff and to the more recent days. On one that was only six months ago, I begin reading.

'December 3:
I'm pretty sure I'm going crazy. I've never really liked someone before, but today I just... I don't know how to describe it. I've known Owen for such a long time but it's only now that I realize I feel he is so much more than a friend to me. I don't know the extent of my feelings, or if he has any back, but what I do know is something's changed.'

I smile at the page. I wrote those words. My old self thought these things. I feel as if I'm intruding for some reason, but this is my property.

'January 12:
He feels the same. He told me he wants me to be his girlfriend. I said yes. I feel pretty much the happiest I ever have in my life. Clarin apparently has known all along that he's liked me. She just kept it a secret because she swore to him that she would. We've been best friends since fifth grade and I just really don't want to ruin that.'

I didn't know I had been friends with him that long. Of course, how would I? I keep forgetting that I know absolutely nothing. Let me tell you, it's frustrating having to learn about yourself.

'February 19:
Hey Brinley, guess who left their diary on their bed? Yes, you did. Don't worry, I didn't read anything. Just wanted to say hi. XOXO-Owen.'

And just after that entry, there are four pages ripped out of the book and nothing else written. I examine the tears in confusion, wondering why I would've gotten rid of a part of my entries.

_|_|_

As it turns out, I'm very tired when my mom wakes me up at 6:45 due to the lack of sleep last night.

I'm sprawled out on my carpet, diary still enclosed in my hands. My mom looks very confused when she sees me, but doesn't say anything about it. All she does is tell me to get myself ready.

I place my diary back into its hiding spot. Then I get dressed in light jeans and a sweater. My hair's a pain to brush out, but I eventually get the nest to lay flat. I brush my teeth and grab my phone before leaving the room.

"Let's go Brinley!" My mom calls.

"Coming."

We both get into the car and drive back to Owen's dormroom. We're silent on the way there, me from exhaustion. I don't know what's going on through her mind, but she doesn't talk either.

"You remember where it is, right?" She says when we pull up to the correct building. "Can you get yourself up to the room?"

"Yeah, I'll see you later," I say with a nod and exit the car.

The room is easy to find. Go up the elevator to floor 4. Turn right. Room 421, knock on the door.

Joey opens the door and smiles.

"Brin! Hey Owen, look who it is!" He says with a grin.

"I know who it is," Owen replies, and I can see him on the couch watching football. "Let her in."

"Nah, I'm just gonna let her sit in the hallway," Joey says, closing the door in my face.

I stare at the door hardly an inch away from my nose, eyes wide. I don't exactly understand what just happened.

The door swings open again.

"Sorry about that," Owen says. "Sometimes I don't understand him either."

I smile and enter the dorm room.

"How are you?" He asks.

"Fine," I shrug. "Tired."

"Well of course you are," he snorts. "What exactly were you doing up that early?"

"I told you, I couldn't sleep!" I say, turning to face him.

"Alright, let me explain it to you. You close your eyes and wait for-"

"I don't need an explanation!" I roll my eyes.

He just laughs, amused by his own 'hilarious' comments.

I walk over and seat myself on his couch, and rest my feet up on the small table in front of it. Owen soon sits beside me as he did yesterday.

"I thought we could do something you used to like to do an try to spark some memories," Owen says, looking at me.

"And what might that be?" I ask curiously.

"You loved watching the Harry Potter movies. So, I've decided we are going to have a marathon," he says. Then he presses play on the remote.

I pay attention to the movie at first, but then slowly but surely I fall into the darkness that is sleep.

_|_|_

"Shhh, she's asleep, Joey."

"Well duh, I can see that.... Aw, she looks all cute and sleepy."

"No, really, be quiet."

"I am being quiet."

"You're practically shouting."

"I've got a naturally loud voice, what do you want from me, Owen?"

"To be quiet!"

"Why? I mean, she's gonna have to wake up anyways."

"Shut up."

"That was rude."

"Do you know what else is rude? Waking somebody up with your 'naturally loud voice.'"

"Okay, okay. I'll be quiet."

"Thank you."

".................. What's her middle name?"

"Dude, remember I said shut up?"

"I'm curious."

"Logan."

"Brinley Logan Shane."

"Be quiet."

"Brinley Logan Michaels, soon."

"Shut up."

"Too soon?"

"Too soon."

"Hey, she's going to remember, okay?"

"You don't know that. Nobody does."

"But just look on the bright side. At least you're not paying your respects at her funeral."

"Once again, I'm going to ask you to shut up, Joey."

"Okay. I'm shutting. And upping. Wait, is that a thing?"

"I can't talk to you."

"You just did..."

"Well I won't anymore."

"You did again, just there, Owen!"

"Oh gosh, she's going to wake up! Be quiet!"

"I'm always quiet."

"Lies."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"I am."

"You're a jerk."

"You're annoying."

"You just hurt my soul. Right there."

"That's your heart."

"Of course it is."

"Look, she didn't hardly sleep last night. She needs some sleep. Be quiet now."

"How do you know she didn't sleep last night?"

"She texted me in the middle of the night, Joey."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh is right."

_|_|_

My eyes open and light floods my vision. I blink a few times trying to get use to it. I suck in a deep breath and sit up to look around.

I'm laying on the couch. I'm taking up the entire thing, though, which I feel bad about already. I must have fallen asleep during the movie.

Owen is sitting in a wooden chair beside the couch, watching me.

"Whoa," I say, sitting up quickly. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," he says, green eyes bright.

"Were you watching me sleep?" I ask, eyebrows raised.

"I was watching you take up my entire comfy couch."

"Yeah... Sorry about that," I shrug.

"You're fine," he replies.

"How long have I been sleeping?" I ask, looking around in search of a clock.

"About three hours," Owen says without looking away.

"Okay... And were you sitting there watching the whole time?" I ask.

"No," he smiles a little. "I was making lunch. Yours is in the fridge, by the way."

"Oh, thanks. What is it?" I ask, standing up and stretching my arms over my head.

"Grilled cheese," he says, leading me over to the kitchen area.

He pulls open the fridge and takes a plate with the sandwich on top out. Then he puts it in the microwave, heating it up for me. Once it's at an acceptable temperature, he hands the plate to me.

"Thanks." I take a bite and nod my head in approval.

I finish the whole thing pretty fast, and lucky for me, Owen doesn't watch me eat it because I'm apparently a gross eater.

"Hey," I say, remembering something. "I wanted to ask you something."

He raises his eyebrows. "Yes?"

"Can you tell me about us?"

He looks away. "What about us?" He looks uncomfortable now.

"Maybe a story," I shrug.

"Sure," he nods. Looks conflicted for a minute. Then he begins. "Well, we've been friends since we were kids. And, well, at the time we were about eleven. We walked to Walmart together and bought about thirty dollars worth of candy. Then we went over to my house and decided to pull an all nighter. We were all hyped up on sugar until about two when we both crashed. We always wanted to stay awake until morning. To this day, we never have succeeded."

I'm amused by the story, yes. I like hearing about our youth. But it also confirms something I've been afraid of acknowledging. He decided not to talk about our time as a couple. For whatever reason, he doesn't want to bring it up with me.