I hope Finn dreams about me. I hope his subconscious mind is totally saturated with images of the two of us together because I don't want anything to change this feeling I have. I don't want to forget myself again.

That's exactly what I'd allowed to happen in the last five years. It happened slowly at first, little pieces chipping away at my identity and when the chips eroded the structure, I had become someone else completely. This is what is great about being with Finn. I'm the girl I was before, the one who has dreams and who isn't afraid to chase them. He reminds me who I am.

The pool is quiet as the afternoon sweeps over the morning. Call me superstitious but I borrowed the pen from Sunset Motel--the same pen that wrote my first song in ages. To me, it's no different than a football player refusing to shave facial hair during playoffs. I need this pen. If I give it up, it could ruin everything and I'm not willing to take the risk.

I set it to paper again and start to write. I am amazed at how easy it is. How the words flow from my mind to the paper seamlessly and without much effort. I write until my the muscles in my hands ache and then I write even more.

Lyrics take over pages and my spirit takes to the sky. I'm on the biggest adrenaline high I've felt in ages, hands, still sore gliding across the paper until Kurt Cobain's voice jolts me from my trance.

Finn's phone.

I set the pen down and flex my fingers a couple times before I pick it up. The caller ID says it's once again Leo and I'm not sure how Finn would feel about me taking the liberty to answer it.

I think better of it and set it back as two girls come into the gated pool area. One is a tall, leggy brunette and her companion a short, curvy blonde.

"I could lick him," the leggy one says.

"No kidding," her friend agrees. "That makes two of us."

"Dibs," she yells. "I called it."

I pretend to be writing more but the words have stopped, replaced by doodles. Hand drawn hearts and whirls. I strain to listen.

The blonde squeaks and grabs her friend's upper arm. "Shhh. Oh my God. Be quiet. There he is."

My head turns like she's just said the sky is falling. I can't help it. I want to see the lickable hottie they're talking about. And then I don't. A very sleepy eyed Finn has just walked through the gate. I glare at the two girls, partly intentionally but mostly out of raw, undebatable jealousy.

"Hey," the brunette says to him.

Finn gives a polite smile and a curt nod but otherwise doesn't spare a second glance before marching to my chair. I'm delighted when he leans over me and plants a tender kiss on my lips.

"Hey, beautiful."

I should open my eyes to see the looks on the potential Finn-theiving hussies faces. But I don't. I keep them closed so I can revel in the feeling of him. When he pulls away, I'm grinning.

"Sleep well?"

"Yep," he says, straightening up. "Which is totally shocking given that I drank like twenty cups of coffee."

I raise a brow. "You're exaggerating."

"It felt like twenty," he says. His eyes run up and down my body and I feel goosebumps form under my skin at the suggestive nature of his expression. "I see you got some of the color you sought but how was the songwriting?"

I proudly hold up my notebook. "Smooth as butter," I say.

Finn takes the notebook and starts to read my songs. Four in total. I wrote four songs in about four hours which is not only remarkable but for me, unheard of, even before my prolonged stint of writer's block.

"Laney," he says quietly, "this is amazing. You are amazing."

I stand up and hold my arms out, spinning around in a circle. "I got my groove back, Finn Ellis and it's thanks to you."

Finn sets the notepad on the table and points to himself, "Why Miss Watts," he speaks in a drawl, "I do believe that's a genuine compliment from a genuine lady." His arm is suddenly wrapped around my waist and he's pulling me to him.

I dare a glance at my rivals and am awarded with the disappointed look on their faces. That's right, he's mine. I'm his. We belong together. Until Forever.

I kiss him. I kiss Finn and try and show him how I feel. Happy. Content. Excited. Grateful.

"You're feisty," he says.

"Just happy," I correct him. "Are you ready to get back on the road?"

"Yep. I'm good as new. Just want to grab a super quick shower and change my clothes."

Part of me wants to invite myself along, but part of me knows better. It's too much, too soon.

I grab my stuff and his phone and we head back to the hotel room. Finn takes off his shirt for my viewing pleasure I'm sure and has his hands on the fly of his jeans as he heads into the bathroom.

When the water from the shower starts, his phone blasts the most irritating alarm I've ever heard and I practically jump from my skin. I wait, expecting it to stop but it doesn't. I grab the offensive phone and my hand is still shaking from the startle it gave me when I hold it up to my face to try an determine how to shut the stupid thing off.

I didn't want to look.

I didn't mean to.

It was a text from Leo:

Lilah won't stop calling me to try and find you. Did you piss her off? You'd better call her soon man, I won't keep lying for you.

If my hand was shaking before, it's positively vibrating now like Finn after his coffee. I drop the phone to the bed and cover my mouth.

I read the message a second, third, a fourth time.

No.

No. No. No. No. No.

This can't be happening.

All of a sudden the walls are closing in on me, my head starts to spin and I want to throw up.

My legs are trembling along with the rest of me but some small miracle allows me to stand upright. I get a surge of adrenaline from God knows where and start to gather my things. I need to go home. Now.

The door to the bathroom is on hinges that creak. They groan as Finn steps out, the stark white hotel towel wrapped around his waist. As soon he sees me his face drops.  

"Laney, are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."

I shake my head back and forth, frantically.

Finn hurries forward, his hands gripping my shoulder. "Talk to me pretty girl, tell me what's wrong."

Tears spear my eyes. "Don't," I say. "Don't say that."

"Say what? Laney, you're freaking me out."

"Don't call me pretty girl," I scream. As I scream the tears start to fall.

Finn's face reminds me of when I told him five years ago that we were moving. He's broken. That makes two of us.