I used to sleep like a dead horse, but times have changed me. I've been lying awake now for three hours and sleep has done nothing but taunt me from its soft and luxurious sofa that's nestled deep inside my skull. I'd throttle sleep if I could, but I can't... because I need it. I'm nearly desperate for it.

I feel delirious. My eyes no longer focus. I'm just staring glassy-eyed around the dark room like an owl. They say that exhaustion can cause a dream-like sensation, as if you're floating through life. I beg to differ. Exhaustion is a nightmare. It's literally driving me to madness. I find myself creating odd scenarios in my head. Like, I want to climb up the walls and dangle from the ceiling like a bat just to watch my mom's reaction when she wakes up. Or perch myself in the window as I yodel into the quietness of the night. Or plank Seth while he's sleeping.

None of these would end well for me, I'm sure.

So, instead, I stare at the clock on my phone until it reads five am. I tell myself that's a reasonable time to get up, even though my younger self understood the importance of beauty rest. I envy the days of endless sleep. Heck, I slept through getting plastic-wrapped to my bed once. That's saying something.

With light footsteps, I meander my way around the small guest room with as much stealth as my lubberly self can manage. I only run into the side table once, scraping wood legs against wood floors. My heart actually stops working in that moment as I hurry to glance blindly at my sleeping mom. Seriously, out here at the edge of the world, there are no streetlights. The only illumination we get this far from town is from the moon, and it has decided to tuck itself behind a cloud or something because it's mysteriously MIA. I'm staring directly into the depths of an abyss.

The realization of how horrifying this room is suddenly gives me images of arms creeping out from under the bed and wrapping around my ankles. I don't let my imagination get much further than that before I'm hightailing it out of the spare room, phone in hand. I fumble to find the flashlight on the small device and try to tap it on.

It's only in that moment that I realize there's light already coming from the living room. I tiptoe out, eyes squinted as the painful sting of illumination jabs me in the retina. A floor beam creeks under foot and I freeze. Maybe nobody heard it. But the moment the thought flutters into my mind, it's dashed away by Seth's lean silhouette stepping around the corner.

He glances down the hallway, obviously looking for the intruder, but nearly stumbles back when his eyes land on my willowy, creepy self. I'm sure I look like some hunched over possessed grandma with the way I'm slinking down the hallway. I'm trying to crouch into the shadows in hopes of remaining unseen, but it doesn't work. He spots me instantaneously.

"Boo," I whisper, popping up from my stooped position and making the last few steps into the living room.

The living room is connected to the kitchen, and Jackson has designed it so that the couch acts as a divider between the two spaces. Seth must have been puttering around in the kitchen because that's the room that's lit up.

"Couldn't sleep, huh?" he says, making his way passed the sofa to where he's been stirring something at the kitchen counter.

I follow him and take an unobtrusive glance around his shoulder to find him making a bowl of Ramen noodles. Guess grilled cheese wasn't enough for dinner.

"Nope," I mutter around a yawn.

I get a sudden desire to lash out at myself for yawning. Yawns are stupid. They're like a body's way of blaming a person for not sleeping... but it's my own darn body's fault for not sleeping. So don't go rubbing your exhaustion in my face.

"Want some?"

I pull my eyes away from where they are unfortunately aimed at Seth's rear end, and smile up at him. He gives me an odd look, the twitch of a grin settling onto his lips, before holding his bowl of noodles out for me. I nod, affection radiating from my face as I take the warm dish in my hands. I slurp up a bite—or three—of the salty, soupy mess, my innards humming in bliss as they absorb the heat. Seth's gaze is transfixed on me, and I have no doubt that the heated look in his eyes has nothing to do with attraction and everything to do with warning me to slow it down.

"Thank you," I say, handing him back his food.

I'd hate to ruin things further by scarfing down the entire meal that he made for himself. That most certainly wouldn't get me any points with the man. Especially considering that he can be quite a beast when his massive vault—that some people refer to as a stomach—runs dry. He's like a sink hole. You just keep throwing junk into that belly of his, and it'll just continue to devour it right up. It's endless and it wears me out trying to keep up with its needs.

"What's keeping you up?" he asks, after shoving a massive amount of noodles into his mouth. I'm not gonna lie; I'm slightly in awe by the fact that he can talk so clearly around all that food.

"Life," I say. I'm not one for lying, or coating my words to hide my true feelings. If he wants to know the problem, well then, prepare yourself boy, because you're gonna get it. "You."

A fork full of noodles stops midway to his mouth, and he tilts his head up to meet my gaze. He looks at me for a heart-stopping few seconds before jerking his head towards the front doors.

"Wanna go for a walk?"

I nod once and watch as he quickly finishes off his snack and then snatches a blanket from the couch before quietly exiting the home. I follow close behind, and he holds the screen door open for me as I pass. My shoes are missing, but I don't care. Feeling the dry dirt beneath my feet is always a welcome feeling. It sort of reminds me of my childhood—running amuck in the yard, climbing trees, skinny dipping in the creek. They were days of innocent fun and worry-free nights. And yet, as hard as life is right now, I wouldn't give it up for even a moment of my younger days. Though the idea of a few seconds of senseless play is rather tempting, I'm happy to have a life of purpose.

We walk side-by-side for several minutes, the blanket Seth snatched now wrapped around my shoulders. And though the space between us is silent, the air is filled with singing crickets and a single hooting owl. It's peaceful and my body aches to feel this kind of peace on the inside. I want stars to twinkle in my soul. I want a blanket of comfort to wrap around my cracked heart. If I could bottle this experience up into an emotion and store it inside of me, I'd have eternal serenity. This here... this is where lullabies are birthed. If I could lay under the stars and listen to nature sleep, I'd most certainly find rest. I have no doubt.

Which is why I've already decided that camping needs to happen soon before I die from exhaustion. I need a naked evening sky to rock me to sleep.

"Did you know," I suddenly say, "that chickens are the closest living relative to a t-rex?"

I'm not even sure what just happened there. Once minute my mind is dancing along in quiet bliss and the next I'm blurting out stupid facts. I guess that's what I get for having 'The Big Book of Useless Facts," sitting in a basket next to my toilet. I've got this cellar of dumb information stored in the back of my mind and it likes to reveal itself at the most ridiculous of times.

"Surprisingly," he says, his teeth glistening in the moonlight as he smiles, "I didn't actually know that."

I laugh softly, glancing down at my dirt-covered toes. "Thanks for coming all the way out here to get us," I tell him after a few moments of quiet.

"Well," he says, "you didn't expect me to let two women spend the night at a strange man's house alone, did you?" He's teasing... I think. But, I sense a hint of honesty in his tone.

"I really didn't think you'd care."

At my sincere response, he slows his pace and I can feel him watching me. I know he's planning his next words carefully, so I stay silent as I wait to hear what's on his mind.

"You don't have much faith in me, do you?"

That's not what I was expecting him to say. I stop walking, turning to face him fully, and nearly stumble at the openness in his expression. He's not hiding from me right now. Maybe it's because it's dark out here and he thinks I won't be able to read him as well in the moon's shy rays, but I can. He looks... tired. I'm not sure if it's the fact that he thinks I don't trust him, or just the result of sleepless nights, but he looks defeated.

"Should I?" is what I want to say, but I soften my words when I see the turmoil in his eyes. "What makes you say that?" I ask instead.

He shrugs. "You accuse me of cheating, and then you question my desires to protect you."

"Yeah, well," I begin, wondering if what I'm about to say is the right thing. We haven't talked like this in awhile, and the last time we did, it resulted in us not speaking for three days. I would hate to make the same mistake twice, but the persistent ache in my heart speaks for me. "you haven't exactly been showering me with affection lately. You avoid me any chance you get. You run when I kiss you. What was that?"

I hear him sigh beside me, but I refuse to turn his way. Verbalizing my frustrations just makes me that much more irritated and I'm not ready to see his face again. I don't want the exhaustion and hurt on his face to soften my resolve.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, running a hand through his messy hair.

Well, I guess that's progress, and yet somehow I feel my chest sink even further. He apologized. I should be ecstatic because it's the first time he's apologized for anything in months. But, I didn't want an apology. I wanted him to confess to making a mistake. I want him to take my hand in his own and plead for forgiveness, to admit his stupidity, to beg for another chance. But no, he merely apologizes instead.

"My mom wants us to come over for dinner tomorrow," I say, eager to change the subject before he accidentally shatters my heart with his thoughtless words.

He nods, but I can feel him examining my face for any signs of what I'm feeling. I refuse to give in, and instead, offer a smile. I've still got some strength left in me, and until the day he breaks me completely, I refuse to reveal my cracks.

Not long after, we start making our way back to the house. Our conversation had quieted, but my thoughts have not. I feel like with each day Seth morphs into a new puzzle, and I'm forced to piece it together. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to make whole of a single one yet, so now I'm left with dozens of unanswered questions and puzzles with missing pieces. If only he'd give me the answers I need, then maybe we'd be able to figure this mess out.

I sigh, taking the front steps slowly. We've only been out for about a half an hour, and I'm not sure I'm ready to head back inside. Our walk, even if it didn't go as hoped, actually turned out better than I'd expected.

I smile to myself as my hand reaches for the doorknob. Just as I make contact, I feel pressure against my collarbone. I turn, eyeing the hand resting on my shoulder, before glancing up at Seth's wary eyes.

"You should know," he starts to say, dropping his hand away from me, "I enjoyed it."

"Huh?

"I reacted like an idiot. I know." He ruffles his hair. "I'm sorry for that."

"Wait, wait, wait," I say, holding a hand up to stop him from speaking. "Enjoyed what?"

At first, I thought he was talking about our little stroll tonight, but now I'm not so sure.

His eyes shoot up to meet mine, sincerity and fear woven into the tangle of greens and browns staring back at me. And then he smiles a sad smile and mutters, "the kiss."

And now I'm even more confused than ever.