Main Character in the Story:

*Kim So Hyun as "Athena" Myung-hee Park

Minor Character in the Story:

*Brenna D'Amico as Marilyn Rivera

Chapter X: It Was Sort of A Bad Dream.

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I sit quietly in my room, cross-legged on my bed and cellphone up to my ear. I wait patiently as the line rings, connecting me to the only person I can think of talking to right now. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, asking myself if this is a good idea over and over again.

"Hello?" Marilyn's weak, raspy and tired voice comes onto the line.

I take a moment before going through with this stupid idea. "Hey." I say kindly.

"Hey, Thena… you do know its three-o-seven in the morning, right?"

"Yeah. I checked the time before I called. But I have no one else to talk to, so."

She yawns away from the phone (I can tell because it's quieter than it's supposed to be). "Give me a second."

I wait as the rustle of blankets and pillow being moved around occur in the background. I bite at the side of my finger, the skin right at the side of the nail. I was never one for biting my nail directly. I just found it uncomfortable.

Finally, she comes back on. "Okay. What's the problem?"

Another deep sigh. "I… Tom… We…" I don't know how to start it off. I quickly scan my mind for the right words to explain, but nothing can explain what in the world is happening to my mentality (as if it wasn't smacked up already). "I, um… I may have…"

"Okay." Marilyn says, stopping me. "Step by step. It's obviously about you and Tom. Am I right?"

My idiot self nods. Then I remember this is a phone call. "Yeah." I answer. "It was… it was sort of a bad dream."

"A bad dream about you and Tom?"

"Mhm." I mumble as I chew off more of my finger. "I mean. Sort of. It was Tom and me, well, were sort of making out, but I wasn't exactly… I wasn't exactly me."

"Who were you, then?"

I hesistate to answer. How could I answer that after she was the one who sent me the video?" I was… Susannah."

A moment of silence. I can't even hear a breath on the other side of the call. Then, a small exhale. "Oh my God. I get it now."

A curious look slips into my facial expression. "What do you get?"

"You imagined Tom would want someone else."

I close my eyes. My chest tightens with the pain of the statement. I mean, it's true, isn't it? I know he will leave me for his ex."

"And it's all my fault."

Eh?! My eyes widen. "Hold on, wait, what?"

"It's my fault. I sent you the link to that video. I made you listen to the report. Now I screwed you up. Oh my God."

"No! No! Oh my God, no that was not my intention. It's not your fault. I swear."

"How else would you have had the idea burned into your mind than that woman talking about rumors of Tom getting back together with Susannah? Who else provided you with that information? No one. That's who. No one but me."

"Marilyn, stop. This is not why I called you. It's not your fault. I swear on everything I own that it's not your fault. And you didn't force me to watch the video. I could have easily ignored it and continued talking to Michael."

"Okay, then why—wait, who's Michael?" I avoid that question quickly, a very useful reflex I'm thankful for having that. "Completely irrelevant. The fact remains I could have ignored the question."

"Mhm. Anyway, why did you call me, then?"

I rub my hand over my face. They're still a little bit of sweat on my cheeks. Or tears. Could be both. "I think I may be having an emotional breakdown."

"Why? It was just a dream. It's not like it actually happened."

"Yeah, but what if it does? You saw how happy Tom looked in those pictures. I don't think I have ever seen him that happy with me. Susannah brought out a smile I have never seen Tom make."

"So what? You guys are just starting out. He has a history with Susannah, and there's probably even a friendship still there. You and Tom still have a bunch of time ahead of you to make history."

"Yeah, and what if that doesn't last long? What if he gets tired of me? I'm under-age." I felt myself blush between my cheeks. "I can't… you know…"

"What? Pleasure him? Sleep with him?"

I can feel my cheeks starting to get redder at the question Marilyn mentioned as I made a deep sigh. "Maybe. Sort of. And I can't go with him alone to a restaurant without the tabloids tagging it as a freaking statutory rape or something."

"He takes you on a date, and they take it as a statutory rape? Really?"

"You know what? It was an example." I roll my eyes. "Anyway, he's an actor. Surrounded by beautiful actresses. I'm afraid he will leave me for one of them. Maybe not for Susannah, but someone just as pretty, maybe even prettier. Like Taylor Swift. I don't know. He's going to find someone else. They all do. And I will be nothing but 'a fling from Stamford'."

"Okay, Thena, fling is usually referring to sex and no commitment. And-"

"Stop correcting me, Marilyn! This is not the freaking time."

"And." She continues, "for someone who claims to love him so much, you sure do have a little faith in him. I mean, you haven't even caught him cheating. And there for sure as hell haven't been any hints being dropped of a cheating Tom Hiddleston. And a photo of him laughing with his ex does not count. If there's no proof of him being with Susannah—or any woman, for that matter—stop labeling him. I know he's called you every day since you said he left. I mean, I did assume it was a secret lover calling you before I knew it was him. And there always seem to be that one person you wouldn't tell me the name of whenever he texted you. If he doesn't love you, he really must be lonely during the day."

I let her words and advice sink in and latch onto my brain. She's right. She absolutely right. "Eom-ma-ya. {Oh my god.}" I say, burying my face in my hand. "I'm that girlfriend. I'm silly. I'm such a silly girlfriend."

"No. you're not." She disagrees. "You're the young, never-been-in-love girlfriend."

"You know, it is really weird to hear you calling me young. Especially considering the fact that you're only about a year older than me."

"But to him, you're…" she does the math on her end of the call with quiet whispers and finger tapping. "… sixteen years younger than him… I'm sorry, I have to say this. Neither of you find that even the slightest bit of strange?"

I raise an eyebrow. She, of all people, is asking me this question. "Because you're the one to talk, right? You have known around the entire school for dating guys ten years older than you."

"Yeah, only ten. I make it practically a law for me never to exceed a ten-year limit."

I roll my eyes. "None of us find it weird. At least, that's what we agreed on what we started out. Besides, I would never, in an infinite amount of years, date a teenage boy."

"Why? They're cute. Single. Worthy of a nice cute girl like you."

"Yeah. Let me go ask Jared after he gets his seventh tattoo. Or Mario, after he's his baby mama who happens to be in her second year of college. Or maybe I will try Victor, after they find a cure for herpes."

"Alright. Fine. I see your point. But you don't have to consider guys only in our school. There's a military school in northern part of the state that has plenty of guys come down here for vacation. You can check them out if you want."

"Uh, how about no? I have a boyfriend. A perfectly perfect boyfriend. You just encouraged me that he's more faithful than I gave him the credit for, and now you're telling me to be unfaithful by checking out other guys to see if any of them can replace Tom?"

"It doesn't hurt to try. I mean, it opens up an opportunity to have a real, less-complicated replacement."

I pinch the bridge of my nose, working hard to prevent a headache. "Good night, Marilyn. I think I am okay for now. Thank you for the advice."

She yawns loudly into the phone. "No problem. I'm glad I could help."

"Yeah. Sorry for waking you up."

"It's okay. Can you do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"If it's after twelve a.m, don't even think about dialing my phone number."

I snort softly. "Araso, {Alright,} fine. My bad. Later."

"Bye." She hangs up the call.

I'm left in the head-bursting silence of my room, not sure what to do now. I don't want to fall asleep again. What if the same thing happens again? What if it's worse: I'm not Susannah, and I'm watching them together from my own separate view? I can't do this. I just can't. I need to hear it from him. I need to hear it from his own voice, his own mind, and his own words.

I look at the time on my phone. Realizing what times it is, I decided I shouldn't call him now. He knows the time difference; he always know what time it is over here whenever I call him. He will want to know why I'm up so late. He will start asking me questions, and he will think something's wrong. I mean, something is wrong. But I don't want him thinking of it.

I toss my phone to the side and fall back, my head hitting my pillow. I stare at the ceiling, waiting for my thoughts to consume me so I don't have to sleep. But it's a constant battle. Every time a thought came up, it's left unfinished because I'm drifting off. Why is it that every time I want to sleep, my mind runs swift? And now… now that I don't want to sleep, the thoughts… the thoughts don't come? I cover my mouth and let out a huge yawn. Finally, I just close my eyes, ask my brain not to give me a nightmare, and float off to cloud nine.