"And you're sure you don't want to tell your parents about us?" Owen asks me. He is looking down at me, and the very notion that our bodies are curled around each other in the second bedroom of the guest house is enough to distract any seventeen-year-old girl.

"Hmmm? What?" I ask, my eyes locking to his.

He smiles. "Were you zoning out again?"

I feel my goose bumps rising for what must've been the hundredth time that day. I lower my eyes, the flush deepening my core temperature tenfold, and found I never wanted him to stop staring at me like that. "Yes," I admit, biting my lip. "And the answer is no, Owen. No, no, no. We can't tell them today..."

"Leia, come on," Owen says, a hint of impatience in his voice. "Give me one good reason why we can't tell them."

I sigh, looking up, and knowing exactly how to placate my boyfriend. I lean forward then and brush my lips with his, a feeling of delight flowing through me as he pulls me closer to him. "Because," I say when the two of us finally come up for air, "you know as well as I do that it isn't safe yet. Once you've aged out of the system, then we can be more careful. You're thinking of taking that scholarship, aren't you?"

He nods. "Yeah—I just don't want to leave you..."

I silence him with another kiss. "Don't say that," I whisper to him, taking delight in his shivering at my close proximity to him. "You can't turn down NYU. God knows I'd give anything to be accepted there..."

He grips me tightly. "You will."

I shake my head. "But with this scholarship, you get your pick of dorm rooms and apartments because of the settlement money after your mom's death. And you get to graduate in January instead of being stuck in high school until June. Don't worry about me, please, Owen. You have got to take this thing."

"I don't know..." His voice is quiet then as he sits up, pulling me with him. He then proceeds to tangle his fingers into my raven, curly hair, which falls to the curves at my waist. "I guess I just know how good I have it with you... I'd hate to see you falling for anyone else in my absence..."

I catch his hand in my hair. "Don't say that," I say firmly, and his eyes lock to mine instantly. "I love you," I say quietly to him.

He smiles. "I love you, too."

"That is not going to change," I say, getting to my feet and looking for the obligatory outfit I had to wear for my birthday party. "If anything, what's going to change is your feelings for me," I say, bending down and giving him an eyeful of some sexy lingerie I'd gotten to go under the new outfit. "Besides, it's not like college freshman can just date seniors in high school. I'll bet you're going to trade me in for an upgraded, college model within a few weeks—"

Owen grabs me then, and a squeal escapes my lips. "Don't say that," he whispers, his arms tightly around my waist as I shiver with anticipation, the outfit falling from my fingers and back into a heap on the floor. "I love you, Leia Gabrielle Beckett, I am so in love with you, it hurts! I'm not going to trade you in for an upgraded, college model within a few weeks..."

"Months, then," I mutter.

He tightens his grip. "No, not months, or years."

I manage to turn to face him. "Days?"

Owen growls, leaning down and kissing me, hard, on the mouth. "No days, or weeks, or months, or years—or minutes, or seconds—or any format of time could ever, under any circumstances, change my feelings for you."

I sigh, kissing him again before managing to untangle myself. "Fine," I mutter. "I need you to get back into that monkey suit so that we can get back to the party. I know the whole double birthday thing has gotten old but what can you do when your parents who are really your aunt and uncle are dead set upon making an example of the first adopted kid?"

Owen makes a face. "They're one step away from being my parents, too, with that tone of voice, Leia."

"Point taken," I say, pulling on the tea-length dress and having him zip up the back once he's gotten his outfit on. I am just about to leave when suddenly, the telltale sign of shoes stops me.

The telltale sound of the main door squeaking erupts in my ears seconds later, and I hear footsteps on the hardwood floor, going soft as they hit the expensive carpet my parents had bought specifically for the front room. "Lincoln?" Sonny calls out, and my heart leaps with anticipation. "You here?"

"Shit!" I whisper to Owen, shutting the bedroom door quickly and making sure not to trip over my shoes. "What are we going to do?!"

Next, I hear what can only be my mother step out of the bedroom and down the hall, her expensive heels clicking on the floor as she makes her way out and into the front room. "Sonny..."

"Why is she going to see him by herself?" Owen whispers to me.

I shrug. "No clue..."

We hear Sonny sigh. "What is this, an ambush?" he demands. "Look, if you want to talk about the whole, 'Who's going to be the next captain of Manhattan SVU' then don't bother!" he says, annoyed, and I find I am shocked that my mother even has a shot at the gig, being third-in-command and all. "Clearly, we know who the best one is for the job here, Edythe," he tells my mother, speaking harshly, almost as if he was speaking to someone who had barely left diapers.

"Sonny, it's not that, I promise," my mother says, almost as if she is trying to keep her cool. "It's personal."

Sonny sighs. "Sorry," he says. "But I was talking about you, by the way. It would be an honor to serve under you."

"You won't think so in about five seconds..." My mother tells him, trailing off and waiting for him to ask her why.

As if on cue, he asks, "What do you mean?"

"Look, I know it's not a good time—well, it'll never be a good time—to tell you this, but, you and I need to have a conversation about Dallas."

"Dallas?" Owen whispers to me.

Mutely, I shrug at him.

"What do you want to discuss?" Sonny asks. "Other than the fact that you and I decided not to discuss that night ever again..."

That night?! I think to myself. What the hell?!

"That's the thing about one-night-stands," my mother replies. "They always come back to haunt you...especially if things don't work."

Nailed it, I think to myself. But still... What the hell?!

"Wait... What?" Sonny demands.

"I took the morning after pill," Mom tells him quietly. "But apparently, your boys are stronger than that."

"What are you saying?" Sonny asks, and I immediately feel sick to my stomach at where this conversation is going.

"I'm saying that I was pregnant," my mom replies as my knees buckle and as Owen catches me. "I was pregnant, and I had a miscarriage a few months after that. Pre-eclampsia," she says.

"Obviously, that was your choice, but I would've wanted to be there for you..." I hear his footsteps as he presumably crosses the room to her, to offer comfort of some kind or other. "I'm really sorry..."

"No, you don't get it," she assures him. "I was pregnant—with twins," she says, desperation creeping into her tone.

"Twins?" Sonny demands, shocked. "Where is it? Tell me, Edythe—where's the other baby? Did you put it up for adoption...?"

"Him," she replies. "It's a boy."

"So, you had him?" Sonny asks. "Where is he? Is he all right?"

"Yes, he's fine," Mom replies. "It's Fin," she tells him softly. "Didn't you ever wonder why his middle name was 'Dominick'?"

"Wait a minute... Our one-night-stand in Dallas was in December..."

"That's right."

"But you told everyone... You and Lincoln announced Fin's birth in November... I mean, it's his birthday right now..."

"We forged the paperwork," Mom replies without missing a beat. "Fin was born in September, nine months after what happened in Dallas. I've been feeling guilty about this for years—I've carried the weight of the shame of this lie. And ever since Amanda called me into her office and demanded to know if we were having an affair, I knew I needed to come clean." She hesitates, almost as if she is willing for him to mentally catch up with this whole anecdote. "Look, if you want to fire me, I wouldn't blame you. I am a liar and I deceived so many people. I can't live that way anymore, Sonny... I'm sorry I kept Fin away from you, and you can see him as much as you want, but I'm sure you know that he thinks of Lincoln as his father, and tearing him away from this environment would only hurt him, and I know you wouldn't want to do that, now would you?" she asks, essentially pleading for mercy.

"No, no I get it, Edythe, I do." He sighs, and I can almost see the expression he is giving her in my mind's eye. "Maybe we'll tell him when he's older..."

"Yeah, we can tell him when he thinks he's seventeen, but we'll know that he's eighteen," she muses.

Sonny sighs. "Okay," he replies, and we hear the sound of the door opening. "Oh, and Edythe?"

"Yeah?" Mom asks.

"You think the sound of Captain Beckett of SVU sounds good?" he asks with a chuckle as they walk through the door together.

. . .

I get into my car on Monday morning with Owen, managing to play off the fact that he will be riding to school with me and not with Chelsea. Chelsea knew what we were up to and, out of loyalty to Owen—and fifty bucks every two weeks from me—she promised not to say anything. Although she was a sister to both of us, it was common knowledge that Chelsea didn't like me. She had successfully taken her place as my mother's favorite child, but I pushed that thought from my mind as I drove down the driveway on that overcast, November morning.

"I know what you're thinking."

Fighting the urge to smack him, I reply, "Charming. Now keep it to yourself or I am going to deposit you at the side of the road like in Naked and Afraid. Watch your step, Torrance."

Owen laughs, leaning back up against the seat as we drive through the gates and closer and closer to the freeway. "No, seriously, Leia. Come on—talk to me, please. You're convinced that Chels doesn't like you."

"I'm convinced because it's the truth," I reply. "I don't want to have a sappy, stereotypical sitcom heart-to-heart with you, Owen, no matter how much I may love all those things. The fact is, your sister—our sister, when you get right down to it—has it out for me. Did I mention to you that she is making me pay her fifty dollars every fortnight to keep quiet about us?"

Owen sits up in his seat. "Please tell me you're joking."

"Oh, so of course she left out that information," I grumble in what I think is an annoyed tone as we leave the sanctuary of our property and arrive at the highway that will take us to the freeway. "She wants to appear all angelic and innocent, Owen, but I don't trust her."

"Now Leia, come on," Owen says, running a hand through his hair, which is as dark as mine. "It takes Chelsea a minute to open up to people. Just give her a chance."

I drum my fingers upon the steering wheel as we hit traffic; I come to the mandatory stop at the first traffic light, exhaling as the sun comes center stage, thus obliterating my vision. I let go of the steering wheel for a moment, grabbing my visor and popping my sunglasses over my eyes. "I've given her a chance, Owen—many of them. Believe me, there comes a time when I can't take it anymore. And if this means we're done because you're choosing your sister over me, then you'd best get a ride home from school with her."

Owen grabs my hand as the light turns green. "I would never choose her over you," he tells me as I try to pull into the intersection. "She may be my sister, but you're my girlfriend. I'm in love with you, Leia Gabrielle Beckett—that's the real reason why I wouldn't allow your parents to adopt me. I said a bunch of bull about how it was all about pride in my family name, but I could care less about all that junk, Leia, really. It's all you—it's always been you."

I quickly check my car clock and see that there is almost an hour and thirty minutes before school time. Pulling off at the side of the road, a few blocks from the freeway, I turn to Owen. In my seriousness, I push my sunglasses up and stare at him, my eyes wide with anticipation. "I love you," I tell him, point blank. "That is something that will not change. I know I went out with Ulysses Bernardo last year—which we all have to admit was the weirdest name of the world—but after you saved me from...the incident at the football game, it was you, Owen. You became my beacon of light in my otherwise dull world. I remember watching you, this brooding, dark and mysterious bibliophile for over two years when we were at school together, and just wondering what someone could do to bring you out of the shell you'd encased yourself in..."

Owen leans forward then, kissing me. "I love you, Leia," he replies. "And I'm not going anywhere."

"Well, you certainly don't give up very easily," I say, turning back to the steering wheel and turning the key. "What was it you said?"

"Te amo te usque in sempiternum," Owen replies as we manage to get onto the freeway. "Forever will I love you."

I give him a half smile as I pull down my shades again. "Back at you, babe," I reply with a grin.

. . .

I remembered the conversation I'd had with my mother, the day she had decided to bring Owen and Chelsea into our lives. It was just after lunch period and I was in one of my acting classes, when suddenly my phone vibrated. I was in the middle of overseeing my directorial debut for the school, but we were making some good progress, I felt, that day.

"Take five everybody," I said, making my way to a secluded corner of the stage and checking to see who was calling. "Mom, what's up?" I asked, after I'd swiped the green phone icon to the right. "Everything okay?"

"Yes, honey, fine."

"Then, is there something I can help you with?" I asked her. "We're in the middle of rehearsing A Little Princess and we only have three and a half weeks until opening day. We need all the time we can get..."

"A Little Princess?" she asks me. "That's the one about the girl from India and a garden, right?"

I roll my eyes, fighting to keep my tone in check. "No, Mom," I reply. "Same author, wrong story. You're thinking of The Secret Garden. The girl is still a princess, but she goes to New York and to a boarding school."

"Oh, yes, I see," my mother replies, and I know then that she is preoccupied with something else. "Listen, sweetheart, I want to know—are you aware of the Torrance twins? They're your age..."

I nod. "Yeah," I reply. "Owen and Chelsea—we're in the same grade and we've got a few classes together. Chelsea's louder than Owen, and Owen almost never says anything... Why? What about them?"

"Well, listen, sweetheart, their social worker called me today and, long story short, they're coming to stay with us for a while."

I raise my eyebrows. "Really?" I ask.

"Really," she assures me.

I clear my throat then, seeing that my actors were getting back to places. "Listen, Mom, that's great," I reply, "but my actors and I—we've really got a lot of work to do here..."

"No problem, sweetheart," she says. "And I just wanted to let you know that we're going to go car shopping this weekend—promise."

I smile at that. "Thanks, Mom. Really, thanks. Although I know this is mainly because Dad said something about me driving with Ulysses without some kind of adult supervision—but I'll take what I can get. A car. Wow. You two really must trust me..."

"Very funny," Mom replies. "And another thing, honey?"

"Yeah, Mom?"

"A condition for you having this car is that you're on hand to drive Owen and Chelsea to school in the mornings," she replies. "If Fairfield can take Felicity, Fin, and Hunter to school in the mornings without driving to Queens, too, it would certainly make everyone saner."

"Yeah, sure, fine," I reply.

"Thanks, baby. I'll see you later. I love you."

"Love, you too, Mom," I reply, quickly hanging up. I look over my notes briefly before making my way towards my actors again.

Fairfield picked me up first that day before we began driving back towards Commack to pick up the other kids. Felicity piled into the car first, followed by Hunter and then Fin. Fairfield made chit-chat with all of them, while I merely plugged into my headphones and looked over the notes our drama professor had given us after we did a run-through of A Little Princess for him that day. The drive back to Long Island from Commack was usually no more than twenty minutes and we soon arrived back to the compound shortly thereafter. We soon flew into the house, with Fairfield bringing up the rear, that afternoon, and I immediately found myself looking around for Chelsea and Owen.

"Come on into the living room," Mom said, knowing that the scent of Thompson's chocolate chip cookies would literally sweeten the deal.

Felicity, always astute when it came to having new people in the house, took her customary place on her favorite couch cushion. I remembered Mom telling her that, after eighth grade, she would be allowed to go to my high school, or a magnet school she wanted, if she so chose.

"Nice to meet you," she said, smiling at Chelsea and Owen in turn. "I'm Felicity, I'm eleven, and I play violin."

Chelsea is immediately taken with her. "Nice to meet you," she says, and puts out her hand. "I'm Chelsea. I'm sixteen. I like designing clothes."

Once Owen, Fin, and Hunter had introduced themselves, I finally permitted myself to speak, after Mom gave me a look for not doing so. "So, I take it Mom already told you that I'm the adopted kid out of the mix..."

Chelsea hid her smile; obviously, something was amusing her. "She did, yes," she replied.

"I think you seem to have adjusted well," Owen puts in.

I raise my eyebrows. "Thank you," I reply as a key is heard in the lock.

"Oh, good," Mom, walking towards the front door and automatically grinning like a lovestruck teenager when Dad unlocked the door.

"They've been married a long time," I say, deliberately looking away as the two of them proceed to make-out and talk about work in the foyer of the house. It makes me want to literally puke when I hear him asking her if they can slip away for five minutes, but none of my other siblings seem to care. The boys and Felicity are all engaged in conversation with Chelsea, who is hurrying to keep up and to answer all of their questions.

"Don't mind Chelsea," Owen said softly to me then. "Her bark is worse than her bite, I assure you. She's always done better with younger people."

I nod. "I'll remember that," I reply.

. . .

"What are you reading?" Ulysses asks me.

"Well, I was reading something on Shakespeare for that paper we have due for English tomorrow, but Miley told me to check social media..."

"Why?" Ulysses asks, taking out his phone. He didn't really have strict parents, so him staying over was a regular occurrence, although he knew where to park his car so that it was unseen by my parents, and to sneak out via my private entrance an hour before they woke up. "Here, I got something... It's all over social media. Go ahead and check it out."

I nod, opening a new tab onto my computer and pulling up my social media profile, where I see on the home page that the top news story was my aunt, Livi Grayson's, name. "My aunt?" I ask, confused.

"Wait, isn't she the one who's the same age as we are?"

"Basically," I reply, clicking the news story. "'Sixteen-year-old Olivia 'Livi' Grayson was seen being taken by force from the home of her parents, Captains Hunter and Maggie Grayson, by none-other than her older sister, Sergeant Edythe Beckett, earlier this evening, eyewitnesses report. It is said that there was a brief verbal dispute between the sergeant and her father before Sergeant Beckett put Miss Grayson into her car. It is not a far cry from what Sergeant Beckett got up to in her teenage years, although who are we to judge? According to witnesses, there was a party gone wrong and a potential kidnapping. More at eleven o'clock on the news'" the article finished.

"There's a video," Ulysses said, pointing.

I click the video then, and what I see shocks me.

"Don't try to stop me from doing my job," my mother says, not looking back at my grandparents as she escorts Livi from the house.

"You're out of the family if you do this!" my grandfather shouts as my mom puts her hand on top of Livi's head and puts her into the back of her car. My mother turns and looks back at them, forcing and I see then that she is herself not to cry. Something is shifting within her then, and her jawline hardens, almost as if she is forcing herself to carry out the arrest of her own sister. "I was out of the family a long time ago," she replies, and the video then cuts out.

Immediately, I make a grab for my phone and call her. "Mom!" I cry, my voice filling with relief as she picks up the phone.

"Hey, honey," she says. "Sorry I had to rush out so quickly. With any luck, we'll be able to figure this work thing out and I'll be back in time to get a good nights' sleep. You and I are still going car shopping tomorrow, don't worry."

"Mom, it's not that—although, thank you, that means a lot—but the internet is officially blowing up!"

"Blowing up?" she asks. "Honey, what are you talking about?"

"Mom, did you arrest Livi?" I ask her.

"Great," she mutters. "Who told you that?"

"Livi had a party tonight—I didn't go—but some people were still hiding on the property when the bust happened. I'm seeing all my friends posting pictures, and there's a video of you hauling Livi into your car..."

I hear a click then, and I know that she has put me on speaker. "Honey, I'm standing here with Amanda and Carisi."

"Oh. Hey, guys," I say.

"Hi, Leia," Amanda says.

"How you doing, kiddo?" Carisi asks.

"Fine," I reply, motioning for Ulysses to stay quiet. "Look, I know the drill. Save everything to the hard drive and send it to you. I'm on it."

"Smart kid," Amanda says.

"Good work, Leia," Carisi tells me.

"We'll get it all to TARU immediately," my mom replies. "Honey, I have to go in with Carisi and question Livi now..."

"Okay, I've got everything here, don't worry," I say, knowing then that me hearing my father's car driving off the property wasn't just my imagination.

"Okay—you sure you're all right?"

"Mom, please. Give me a little credit here—I know the passcode to your gun safe if one of the foster kids gets out of hand."

Amanda and Carisi fight to control their laughter, as I'm sure my mom is attempting to do with her own temper.

"Sweetheart, may I remind you that my bosses are listening?"

"But you're friends with them," I reply.

"Remind me to never have another kid," I hear her mutter to them, and I'd bet money that they both salute her. "Get to bed before midnight, young lady. I love you."

"I love you too, Mom. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, sweetheart," she replies, hanging up on me.

"So, this means that both your parents are gone?" Ulysses asks me.

I quickly save my essay—only halfway done, but it wasn't due until the following Friday anyhow. "That would be correct," I reply, shutting my computer and turning to face him. "I didn't finish my homework," I say, putting out my lower lip and setting my computer aside. "I think I need to be punished..."

Ulysses widens his eyes and then grabs me, rolling on top of me. "I think that can be arranged," he replies.

"Good," I tell him as he lowers his mouth to mine.

. . .

I must admit that I was worried for the day that Owen turned eighteen, but it didn't come as much of a shock to everyone when he put a down payment on a lovely apartment in the city, an hour away. I spent every spare moment I could over there for the next few months, and he and I waited for the next ten months until my own eighteenth birthday so as I could formally move out to join him. It was tireless, the waiting, but Owen and I knew that it would all be worth it in the end.

I knew he shared in my disappointment when New York University rejected me, but I was quite shocked to receive a full scholarship to Hudson University. I took it and waited out the remainder of the school year. Summer happened, and the entire family decided to celebrate Chelsea's first summer of being a Beckett, but I begged off the trip and managed to spend several weeks of unsupervised time with Owen. I had never been happier, and when my family returned, they were none the wiser, and it was only weeks before Chelsea and I were due to begin classes at Hudson University in the last week of September.

My mother took me and Chelsea shopping about a week and a half before classes were to begin. Chelsea was going to be studying fashion, while I was going to be doing a double major of acting and law. The acting was for me, and the law was for my father, although I knew full well my mother was disappointed that I would not be pursuing a place at police academy—it just wasn't my scene. I watched as Chelsea completely monopolized the conversation, and it didn't even phase my mother when I went to the bathroom to vomit the Mediterranean food we'd had for lunch at Chelsea's insistence. Cursing myself for eating an overabundance of garlic, I decided that it had to be that, combined with nerves about starting classes for college.

I tried on a few outfits solo, and picked everything on my own, as my mother was much too preoccupied with Chelsea to even notice me. I forced myself not to let it get to me as I paid for my purchases. I told my mother I was sick and would take a cab home, but in reality, went across town and to Owen's apartment, of which I had a key which hung, hidden, around my neck. I let myself in, flopping down onto the couch and waiting for him to return from classes.

He arrived shortly thereafter, pleased to see me, and we sat together and gabbed about this and that. He told me I could spend the night and, since my parents didn't initially think there was anything going on between us, it wasn't an issue. I fell asleep in his arms that night, not even worried about Chelsea monopolizing all my mother's time. I even found that, in my thoughts, I never thought of her as my sister—just the child who stole all my mother's affection for me.

School began, and it took a toll on me, as I constantly had to drive three hours there and back each day. I initially considered getting an apartment, but thought it would look funny if I moved out on my eighteenth birthday. I decided to tough it out for eight weeks, but at the four-week mark, I was in for a surprise. It was during my Supreme Court Litigation class when, in the middle of my closing argument for my mock trial, for my first mid-term grade, I suddenly felt light-headed and ran from the room. I just made it into the ladies' room when I ran into a stall and was violently sick.

"Hey, Leia!" called Morgan Fullerton, my closest friend in my few weeks here, who was also studying law. "Professor Michaelson told me to check on you! Are you all right?"

I sigh, wiping my mouth with toilet paper and managing to limp out of the stall. "I think so," I said, crossing the bathroom to wash my hands and mouth out. "I've just been really stressed lately—nothing to worry about."

Morgan sighs, running her hands through her bright red hair. "Beckett, it's me. I know you—in these last eight weeks, we've become close, swapped stories, all of it. What are you hiding?"

I sigh, washing my hands in a methodical manner. "I don't know," I confessed. "It's just a lot right now..."

She nods. "You have a change of clothes with you?"

I nod back. "Yeah—I was going to stay at my boyfriends' tonight, but he has to cram for a test... Why?"

She smiled, gleeful. "Come stay at my place. I have an apartment five minutes from campus."

I sigh, relieved. "Thanks—my commute is three hours."

"No problem," she replied.

We finished with that class at around three and then she persuaded me to help her with some grocery shopping at the corner market before heading back to her place around four. She explained that her parents had owned the apartment when they were teenage sweethearts before buying a house in Queens. They'd promised the place to her when she was a teenager and now that she was eighteen, it was hers. I felt relief that there was a guest bedroom, and knew that it would be a comfortable place to spend the night.

"I'm going to make pasta tonight. Okay?" Morgan asked.

I nodded, putting my stuff down. "I haven't had good pasta in a while—my newly adopted sister is gluten-free, so my cook only prepares that."

Morgan nods, hanging her bag on the back of a barstool as she unpacks the grocery bags. "Let me guess—your parents feel sorry for her so they let her monopolize all their time and run the house?"

I nod. "Exactly," I say, putting the pasta sauce and a box of pasta onto the counter and shaking my head. "It's absolutely ridiculous! When my mom took us shopping for college, Chelsea dominated the experience. She was always hanging on Mom and making her look at everything... Even when I threw up the lunch she insisted we get—of course, Mom lets her pick everything now—my mother didn't even check to make sure I was okay!"

"Cold," Morgan said, her blue eyes flashing. "What'd you do?"

"Well, I paid for everything myself and told her via text that I was leaving," I replied stoutly.

"Where'd you go?"

"My boyfriends' house," I say softly. "You know, he was being fostered by them just like Chelsea..."

"He a friend of Chelsea's?"

"He's her twin brother," I reply. "He didn't want to get adopted because he and I fell in love..."

"How'd that happen?"

I sigh. "Well, my ex-boyfriend and I were pretty serious—we started dating at the end of our freshman year. He was a football player, and got a scholarship to the University of Florida to play pro-ball... Well, one night at the end of junior year, I went to go see him after the game. He was really bummed because a pass had backfired or something, and then he asked if we could have sex underneath the bleachers because he was so upset..."

Morgan cocked an eyebrow. "What'd you do?"

"I said 'no', of course!" I cry out, disgusted at the memory. "I told him that he was crazy and that he should go home to shake off the loss. I tried to leave, but he grabbed me and wouldn't let go. He said that because I was his girlfriend, I should listen to him if he wanted sex..."

"Prick," Morgan muttered.

"You're not kidding," I reply. "I told him to stop several times and Owen was walking by and he shoved Ulysses off me—"

"Wait. Ulysses?" Morgan demanded.

I nod. "Yeah, I know—weird name. Anyhow, Owen told me to run off and to get home but I hid back and after Owen got hurt, I got him away from Ulysses and took him home. Owen begged me not to say anything, and I promised that I wouldn't. I thanked him for defending me, and then we ended up kissing and then we had sex...at the side of the road...in my car. I was so shocked that I nearly downed a whole bottle of morning after pills. Then I told my folks that Ulysses had gotten into a fist fight with some guy—I didn't name names, of course—but got it so they wouldn't press any charges. I said it happened outside of school and so the school couldn't do anything... I know I could've altered the course of his life, but I had Owen—secretly, of course—and that was enough..."

"Is it still enough?"

I turn to Morgan. "What do you mean?"

Morgan sighs. "Both my parents' are OB-GYN's," she confesses. "They said I had to choose from a list when I was ten-years-old of suitable careers; I chose lawyer because I didn't want to be a doctor. Well, I know a thing or two about what they do because I was their only child, so..."

"So...what?" I ask.

"Do you think you're pregnant?" Morgan asks.

Shit, I think to myself. "I don't think," I reply. "I know."

"How do you...?"

"I took a test a couple of weeks ago, and I got prenatal vitamins under an assumed name from a doctor," I reply.

"What's your plan?" she asks.

"My plan? Continue with school, and move in with Owen next month when I turn eighteen. I don't care if my parents cut me off—I made a deal with our bank. Once I hit eighteen, their names go off my accounts, so I have my own money."

"Does Owen know?" Morgan asks.

I nod. "Yeah, he knows."

"What does he say?"

"He says we can do what I want."

"And what do you want?"

I lock eyes with Morgan's. "We're keeping the baby and we're getting married," I reply simply, almost as if there was no other alternative—there wasn't one for me, anyway.