This isn't weird.

Dinosaur Teeth

Millie's eyes snapped open.

Oh god.

Oh god oh god oh god.

What time was it? How long had she slept? She pushed herself up on her hands and squinted toward the window, then recoiled at the light. Was she hungover? She was a little hungover. And naked. She was naked and hungover. Oh god. Bracing her eyes for the impending assault of daylight, she scrambled out of bed, staggered toward the window, and tore open the curtain. It was obvious, despite the overcast sky, that it had to be hours past sunrise. When was sunrise this time of year? Oh god oh god oh god. She looked out over the front yard, at the long stretch of driveway, at the shiny black sedan pulling into it—

OH GOD.

Staring down at the car, Millie cursed its stupid motherfucking bullshit tinted windows with every expletive known to god and man. Was that him? It couldn't be him, could it? It was too early, it had to be too early, she couldn't possibly have slept that late. She looked down at her wrist, as if a watch might somehow materialize there. As if she had ever worn a wristwatch in her life. God damn it.

Millie took a deep breath and swallowed down her denial. It was time. Noah was here, and it was time.

To take a fucking shower.

She all but sprinted to the bathroom, into the shower, jumping into the water before it had time to warm, scrubbing aggressively at every inch of herself. Then she was out again, smothering her hair with a towel like she was set to inherit its millions and crouching beside the trundle, where she grabbed a set of clothes at random. By the time she'd stood back up, she already had the cream colored blouse pulled over her head. As she shimmied her way into a pencil skirt that already felt wrong for the occasion, a noise came from behind her—

The doorknob was turning.

FUCK.

Barely computing the situation, but desperate to somehow stop it, she lunged toward the door just as it swung wide open—straight into her face.

...Hard.

Everything went black.

"Can you hear me?"

Millie could feel hands cradling both sides of her head, palms warm against the base of her skull, holding her neck straight and steady. The figure leaning over her was an amorphous blur, but as she slowly blinked, its shape began to refine into something best described as humanoid.

"Hey. Hey, look at me. Come on, sweetheart, keep your eyes open. Can you hear me?"

Features began to distinguish themselves—dark hair, curly but neatly styled, with short, tidy sideburns. A clean shaven face with a prominent nose. A fair complexion with a faint olive tint. A familiar, impossibly gentle expression.

"Ben!" Millie gasped, starting so violently that she almost certainly would have cracked her head against the floor, if he weren't holding it in place.

"Woah! Hey now, calm down—"

"Ben! What are you—how—"

"Shh, it's okay, just relax—"

"Ben—" She blinked again, and the eyes looking down at her came at last into complete focus.

They were blue.

"You're not Ben," she said, her tone almost accusatory.

The stranger gave her a sympathetic smile. "No, I'm not," he agreed. "How do you feel? Are your ears ringing?"

"No..."

"Your pupils don't seem dilated. Do you know where you are?"

"I'm at... Noah's house. Well, I'm pretty sure it's really Rebecca's house." She began to push herself up, and his hands slid down to her shoulders, gently supporting her until she was sitting upright.