Joey, Owen and I get back to the house at about 8:30 and decide to watch a movie. As I've learned before, the Harry Potter movies were my favorites. But since we just recently watched those movies, we are going to watch Inception.

Owen explains to me how I am a puzzle solver. I love to be confused and try to figure things out, and naturally this movie has many questions left unanswered. Of course I would want to watch this all the time.

"You used to invent a new theory every time you watched this," Owen smiles at the memory. "And it was often."

"This had better be good, then," I smile at him.

Joey puts the disc into the player, and shuts off all the lights in the living area. I snuggle up right beside Owen, and pull a thick, red blanket over the two of us. Joey sits in the cozy chair just beside the couch, claiming that he doesn't want to witness our cuddling at a close viewpoint.

Owen smells like the lake water. Even though he's already showered, and so have I, it won't go away. And for some reason, I actually am glad it isn't. The scent makes me inexplicably content.

"You know, I forgot how terrible third wheeling feels," Joey says with a sigh.

"You can leave," I shrug.

"Brinley," he gasps, "I thought you loved me."

"No," Owen says, "she loves me."

"That doesn't mean she can't love more than one person," Joey retorts, shrugging.

"Polygamy isn't practiced anymore," Owen says.

"We aren't getting married, fartbrain," Joey rolls his eyes.

"Did you just call me a fartbrain? What are we, in first grade?" Owen scoffs.

"You'd be surprised how offensive young children's vocabulary is," Joey replies.

"And you'd be surprised by how offensive it'll be when I send your mother the vocabulary you use on a regular basis," Owen says.

"I never use bad language," Joey raises his eyebrows.

"That Brinley knows of," Owen says.

"She's just so hard to please, and I want her to think I'm a saint," Joey says.

"Nobody could possibly think that-"

"My mother thinks I'm a saint," Joey raises an eyebrow.

"That's because I haven't sent that text yet," Owen says.

"Don't give the poor little lady a heart attack," Joey says. "She's all fragile and she knits and watches documentary movies a lot."

"You came from a woman like that?" I ask, unable to help my interest in the subject.

"You know," Joey says, inspecting me for a moment, "you sound more and more like yourself every time I talk to you. You sarcastic little-"

"THINK OF YOUR POOR MOTHER BEFORE YOU SPEAK THAT WAY," Owen says over Joey.

"Hey," I shout over the two of them. "The movie's starting and I'd enjoy understanding what's going on."

"Yes, ma'am," Joey says, hushing up all of a sudden.

<•>•<•>

Halfway through the attention-capturing movie, I get a call from Clarin. Let me tell you, it was kind of difficult deciding between pausing the movie or continuing and pretending I fell asleep, then calling her back in the morning.

"You gonna answer that?" Joey asks, holding the remote up to pause the movie.

I sigh. "Yes."

I try to hop up off the couch, but Owen holds me in place. I whip my head around and look at him. He just smiles.

And then I answer the phone. "Hello?"

"Brinley!" Clarin's voice comes through the speaker. "How are you?"

"I'm great, how about you?" I ask, embarrassed because Owen and Joey are both staring intently at me.

"Really good- oh, and Gramma Jane says hi... Gramma, I already told her, she doesn't remember you... No, Gram, she can't-"

"Hello? Brinley?" A new voice comes into the speaker. I assume it's my grandma. "Are you there?" I actually have to pull the phone away from my ear since it's so loud.

"Yes," I reply, eyes wide.

"Honey!" She exclaims. "I miss you! Where are you? Why won't you come visit your old Grammy?"

"I-"

"Gram, give me my phone!" Clarin calls in the background.

Joey's laughing at me. Owen looks amused. I sigh.

"Leave me alone," my grandma, who seems to be a bit insane, says to Clarin. "Brinley? Are you still there?"

"I am," I say in an absolutely monotone voice.

"How are you doing lately? How's school? How's that cute boy of yours-"

"Sorry about that, Brinley," Clarin has returned to the phone. "So anyways, how are you doing?"

"I'm fine, I guess. I mean Owen and Joey took me to the lake yesterday. It was fun, I suppose," and Owen winks at me.

"Wow," she sounds utterly impressed. "I'm glad you got to do that."

"I am too," I smile. "How are you, up there in Missouri?"

"I'm... Dealing. I wish I didn't have to come here. I would much rather be there with you than here with these legit crazy relatives. Not to offend you, but if I were in your position, not remembering any of these people, I would be content," Clarin says.

"I can't say I'm too sad either."

"Clarin! It's time to read the bible with Nanna! Come on downstairs," I can hear a familiar voice call. It must be my mom.

I can hear Clarin sigh, roll her eyes, and then, "I'm sorry, Brin. I would love to hear more from you, but... We've got to get Gram down to bed by a certain time, and she refuses to sleep unless she's read her bible..."

"Oh, that's okay. I'll talk to you again tomorrow, yeah?" I say.

"Course. See you later."

"Good luck," I smile to myself. And then I put my phone away.

"I remember old Granny," Joey says. "You used to go visit her every few months and you hated it."

"Plus that one time she came here to visit," Owen raises his eyebrows. "That lady is... something else."

"Anywaaaays," I say. "Can we keep the movie going?"

<•>•<•>

I can't find the light. I can't find any switches. I can't find any matches. I'm stuck in the darkness.

My mind won't work.

It doesn't remember how to get out.

I haven't been here since I was a child, but I can't remember.

The exit.

Where was it?

My chest is rising and falling and my forehead is gleaming with sweat.

It's so dark that I can't even see my hand in front of my face.

My heart is pounding and I think I'm screaming for help because I can't get out, I'm stuck.

"Brinley."

My head whips around. I can't see him, the one calling my name. I only find the same darkness. I take a few steps nowhere.

"Brinley, come on."

I can't, I want to say, but my lungs aren't working. My head is throbbing. The voice is getting distant and I'm lost. I'm lost and I stop and give up and I can't breathe anymore.

"Brinley, wake up," the voice says again.

Someone touches my shoulder. I jerk awake. My lungs won't expand, my heart is beating too fast, my face is wet with tears. I hunch over, trying to catch a breath, but none are coming. I can't stop reliving the terror I just felt.

"Brinley," it's Owen's voice. "It's okay. You were dreaming. You're safe."

He pulls my towards him and into his arms. My face is in his shirt, and his fingers run through my hair. I try to control my breaths, but it isn't working. I thought the nightmares would end once I accepted what happened to me. I thought I wouldn't have to deal with them again.

"Hey," he whispers, "you're okay. I promise. I wouldn't let anything happen to you."

I'm not actively crying, but that doesn't stop the tears from falling. My head is aching. I realize that my grip around Owen is so strong that my muscles are beginning to ache.

As I'm calming down, I move closer to Owen, wrapping my arms around his neck and resting my head on his shoulder. He shifts his arms to accommodate me.

"What time is it?" I ask quietly.

"Almost three."

"Thank you," I say. "For coming in here."

"I wouldn't just leave you," he says.

"I know." And I smile.

I don't know exactly how long I stay here, but I do know it's long enough for me to fall back asleep. And for some reason, I'm not afraid anymore. My nightmare doesn't come back.

<•>•<•>

I wake up alone in Owen's bed. Two of the three blankets have been kicked off in the night, and I am sprawled out with my head on the foot of the bed. My hair is a matted mess. I guess it's safe to say I tossed and turned a bit.

There is a soft knock at the door.

"Come in," I say, but my voice is hoarse and unclear.

Owen walks inside wearing a black t shirt and shorts. He also has running shoes on and is winding earbuds around his phone. He looks at me for a while, and I don't know what it means. I don't recognize it.

"I'm going to go to the gym. I haven't been since you came here, and I really have to get back," he says.

I nod, then sit up. Try to pat down my mess of hair. "Where's Joey?"

"He's going to class."

"So I'll be here alone?" I ask, raising my eyebrows.

"Unless you don't want to be," he shrugs. "You can come with me. You actually used to go and run on the treadmill some days."

"Okay," I nod. "I'll do that."

"Alright," he says. "I'll be outside when you're ready."

<•>•<•>

I can't stop staring. I try, I swear. I try really hard to tear my eye away. But they always find their way back to him. Lifting weights. Bench pressing. Ab workouts. All of it. It's attracting me further than he has ever done before.

And while he's lifting over a hundred pounds, I can hardly lift a ten pound for more than two minutes.

So now, I'm sitting about twenty feet away, elbows on my knees, admiring every movement. It might be a little warm in here, I think.

He's in his own world. His music is playing into his ears and his breaths align with each motion. He isn't trying to be impressive is what I like most. He does this every day.

I wonder if I ever really did come here to just work out.

It seems quite unlikely.

Owen looks up and catches me staring. My eyes widen and I don't know where to look, suddenly. But he just smiles as he continues his triceps lifts.

Maybe I should so something. What was it he said I liked? Ah, right, the treadmill. Easy enough.

I hop onto one and begin running. There is almost nobody here, yet I feel self conscious, like I'm doing something wrong. But I keep running, hoping to find something enjoyable about it. Yet, after a good twenty minutes of it, all I feel is sore and tired.

I step off the stupid thing and lift my shirt to wipe my sweaty forehead off. I must smell like crap. A pair of arms wrap around me. I almost jump out of surprise. Owens head is on my shoulder, and his breaths are warm against my already over heated neck.

"You're sweaty," he says.

"And?" I ask. "What did you expect?"

"It's just been a while since we've come here together. And I'm glad you came," he says.

"I am too." And I'm smirking, the image of his hot body lifting weights coming back to me.

"Excuse me," a voice behind us says, "no PDA is allowed in the gym."

"Shut up Joey," Owen says without moving an inch.

"When did you get here?" I ask him without actually seeing him.

"Just now. Nice to see you here."

Owen shifts ever so slightly so that his eyelashes brush against my neck and I can't move and all my words are suddenly lost. A shaky breath escapes my lips.

"Well," Joey says, "y'all are grossing me out. I'll be getting buff if you need me."