Remind Me

Chapter Twenty

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."