- NO TITLE AVAILABLE - { p r i v a t e f l u f }

Bridget Ryann plops down on her bed, amused by the rush of people. There's always traffic in this cabin; it's like rush hour all day, everyday. She smooths out the sheets, kicking her feet sat on the edge of his bunk, and scopes out the dozens of people. Her eyes catch glimpse of something--a person about her age--familiar. She sits up in a second, squinting to get a better look. Her imagination is probably getting the best of her, but she's seen him before, and, no, she's not mental. She knows him.

Ryann jumps off her bed, in one quick motion, mesmerized by what this boy could be. She slips on her nearest black Converse and flattens her "keep calm and STFU" tee-shirt, before approaching him. Her mind and brain are no longer in control, but instead her feet are. She bites her lower lip impatiently, appearing ever-so-innocent with her olive-colored eyes. She taps his shoulder, impulsively. "Do I know you?" her words spill out of her lips without her thinking. She rephrases, backpedaling, and twiddling her fingers, "Or, rather," she begins, not sure where to start, "do you know me?"

Bridget Ryann has always been the punchline of everybody's jokes, especially when she'd 'stare' at random boys, searching for her older brother. Her father used to tell stories of him and how he had to give him up, until he married a year later. Ryann was fascinated by the fact she had a missing, long-lost brother. She hopes one day to find him--safely. It'll give her a reason to live. That's all she needs. One reason to live.

Rye's olive-colored eyes widen he mentions his name. Could he really be her brother? "Did you really just say Peitharchia?" she seems, astonished; intrigued. "I'm Bridget Ryann Brenner, or just Ryann, daughter of Peitharchia." Ryann teasingly responds, lightening the conversation with a relevant joke. "If I'm right, our lives could be a replica of the Parent Trap." she shakes her head, mentally laughing at her corny joke, only soon to cut to the chase. "Were you given up for adoption in January of 1996 aka exactly eleven months before I was born?" Ryann stands back, letting him digest her information and questions. Her detective work will pay off soon.

Bridget Ryann chews on her lower lip momentarily, a forceful habit of hers. She smiles at his smile, it's seemingly contagious. If he's her brother--well, she knows she is, unless proved wrong with a DNA test. As he studies her, she does the same. True, they both have no similarity whatsoever, but she knows. This has to be him. "All my life I've been searching--" she begins, bringing herself to a halt, unsure of how to put her words together. Damn lethologica. "I've been looking for boys who look familiar or, nonetheless, similar to me or my dad." she lowers her voice, feeling overwhelmed in the crowded cabin. "That's why I ran away after three," she struggles to confess her wrong-doings, "suicide attempts." she becomes deathly quiet, ashamed of her poor choices. Suicide is never the answer. She loosens the mood with a sarcastic comment. "Not to mention, my life story is a replica to the movie Ella Enchanted."

Bridget Ryann inclines her head, plops herself on his mattress, bouncing it a little. "I suppose we would have a lot to catch up on." her olive-eyed gaze is mesmerized by what he may or may not be hiding. "I almost find this odd." she divulges, letting her stare fall to her feet. "We just met each other and all and were already--" she pauses, biting her lower lip once again, "--confessing our secrets." Ryann finishes, shaking her head, refusing to accept reality. "It just seems completely unreal." she inclines her head, staring up at him. Damon was so much taller than her; the differences between them were eternal. She continuously searches his physical attributes for any similarities. "You know?"