Michelle's door swings open. Covering her mouth, she releases a deep yawn, then saunters toward the kitchen, where eggs have already been prepared. "You guys were up late."

Camryn's door is the next to open. "We're sorry, Michelle! Were wedding bells keeping you up?" she says, tossing a smirk in my direction.

At those words, the spatula falls back onto the pan. Michelle jumps as it clangs, though she was the one to drop it. "What? Is someone getting married?"

I grab the nearest pillow from the sofa, using it to cover my face. I shout into it that, "No! No one is getting married!"

"Yet." Camryn winks. "Just wait. I want to be a bridesmaid."

Michelle offers a smile of sympathy. She sits with Camryn at the bar of the kitchen, where they both have spun the chair around to see my face. "I've never been to a wedding before."

"Michelle will also be a bridesmaid, isn't that right?" Camryn asks her through a mouthful of breakfast.

"There isn't a wedding."

"Yet," she repeats.

I roll my eyes at them. "Just let me eat."

"Okay. Eat quickly! It's almost time to go." Another trait Camryn possesses is the ability to memorize every single person's schedule, except her own.

A quick look at the clock nearly sends my plate flying. I'm three minutes late. I'm never late, not to anything. If anything, I invented early. It is -- was -- my trademark. "America!"

"Oh, I'll take her out. I forgot, too."

"Michelle, I'm sorry."

Michelle rests her breakfast down and hurries off to her room, retrieving a cocker spaniel and her leash, along with a brand name bottle of water and a small bag of treats. Spoiled does not begin to describe America.

"We'll be back."

"Thank you, Alana."

I shake my head. "It's really a pleasure. America is the definition of cute." And hopefully she will distract me from another definition of cute. "Have fun in class."

Michelle is a nursing major. It seems as if she already works overtime. When she isn't in her room, she can be found in classes or, on the rare occasion, studying with classmates. Typically, the latter is reserved only for group projects. Because of these commitments, she rarely has time for four-month-old America in her schedule and the responsibility was offered to me. I gladly accepted, never having had a dog but always desiring one.

The drive to the dog training location is a short one. Henderson Park, a large piece of land, is home to "Floridian mountains," a small playground the same size as their enclosed dog park, and a lake behind a thick wall of trees that appear as though they kiss the clouds. Their leaves have begun the process of reflecting the season, evidenced by the hints of brown and gold scattered throughout their branches.

"Hi, are you here for the two p.m. training session?"

The voice rips me out of my admiration of the trees. "Two? I thought it was at one."

The woman shakes her head. "They sent out an email about half an hour ago, said the trainers were going to be late. I came out here from Draxton, so they sent it out when I was already halfway over here." She shakes her head again.

"That is frustrating."

"Indeed." She sighs. Her Jack Russel Terrier jumps repeatedly against her leg. It seems to me that he is sympathizing. However, his owner doesn't seem to think so. "No, Leo. No, no, stop!" But Leo persists. "See why he's here?"

Through the wall of trees, a swift movement of a contrasting color -- red -- catches my eye. At his feet is a small Yellow Labrador Retriever, leaving him to catch up.

Dakota.

He emerges from the trees. The quizzical tilt of his head along with a stare vanishes once he notices my own companion. "You have a dog?"

"She's my suitemate's. You have a dog?"

"Yeah, he's mine. His name is Shadow."

Shadow barks at the sound of his name. Then America barks at Shadow's bark.

"How old is he?"

"Three months." Dakota gives a quick tug of Shadow's leash and the barking ceases. "One of his guilty pleasures: he likes the sound of his own voice. What is yours in for?"

"Oh, America is actually pretty well behaved. Her owner is a little extra." I shrug my left shoulder to emphasize the apparent need for the brand name water bottle, blanket, and bag treats gathered in that arm.

"I see. Just general training, then?"

"Yeah."

A metallic clinking catches our attention. Leo and his owner have gone into the dog park. Dakota follows suit, and I follow him, having nothing to do while waiting.

I take a seat at one of the stone benches and work quickly to remove America's leash. The sudden, boundless energy turns it into a challenge. Once I'm finished, she races to the other side to meet up with Leo and Shadow.

Dakota joins me on the bench. "Where are you from?" The bright sun, shining directly into his eyes, makes them even lighter than they were, somehow, and enhances his facial features. The freckles around his nose become more pronounced. His eyelashes, a length to be envied, appear more blonde. Strawberry blonde.

My own hair, a mix of colors but mainly brown, shows the natural red in this lighting. I can't say I've appreciated those highlights more. "I'm from here, Lakesborough."

"Not far. Okay." He chuckles. "Arkansas."

"Wow, very far!"

"Nah, not too far."

"Well, I've never been out of state," I confess. "Georgia is far to me."

He furrows his brows. "Never crossed the border?"

"Nope. My family isn't the border-crossing type."

"Neither are mine."

I cock my head. "What do you mean? You came from Arkansas."

"I don't mean... physical borders. More like, symbolically speaking. They tend to hold to tradition, to the status quo."

Catching his meaning, I realize that, in a different sense, my family is the type to not even notice a border. "Well, symbolically speaking, mine are."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I was homeschooled."

A silent "what" escapes his lips. "No way. So was I. Since I was fourteen, anyway."

The rarity makes me smile. "All my life."

"Nice."

"What had you start?" I ask.

"My grandfather's passing, I guess. My grandmother needed help with bills and feeding me so as soon as I could, I got a full-time job and focused on my schooling around that."

"Oh..."

Dakota's half smile tells me not to worry.

Half an hour remains until the trainers promised to arrive.

"Those woods over there, they make me think of archery."

"Me, too."

"You're an archer?"

"Recreationally. Yes."

"Me, too," I say.

A buzz sounds from his pocket. I busy myself with watching our dogs, expecting to observe them from this distance but instead find them fighting over a stick.

My racing to stop them sets Leo right onto my heels. When we reach America and Shadow, Leo joins in on the fight, even further excited by the energetic atmosphere.

"America!"

The woman rushes to my side, commanding Leo to stop. It works as well as it did before.

I pick up a bright yellow tennis ball and throw it. The distraction works. I scoop America — all thirty pounds of fluff — up and into my arms, deciding that her punishment for today is no more sans leash time, at least until training.

"That was my friend, Amanda." Dakota slides his phone back into his pocket. "She needs a cover for Saturday. This Saturday, actually. I work that day anyway so I can't. She asked if you would consider...?"

"Sure. I'd love to help."

"Awesome. Thanks, Alana. I'll let her know."

We talk until two, without any pauses, without any uncertainties of what to say. Just easy conversation and the nagging déjà vu that begs the cliché yet very literal question: have we met before?