14 | sparkling constellations

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Haven drives with the windows down and music blasting, which is something I'm starting to get used to

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Haven drives with the windows down and music blasting, which is something I'm starting to get used to.

Haven is something I'm starting to get used to. Her wild blond hair. Her coy smile. Her bright eyes. Her warmth and light. The smell of vanilla that always follows after her. And this scares me, because I'm not used to being used to anything. Stability left my life along with Dad.

I'm terrified. I'm terrified of letting this girl in. I could say some bullshit about how I'm afraid of dimming her light by showing her all of my darkness, but this wouldn't be true. I'm scared of allowing Haven close because my deepest fear is her leaving. I haven't felt anything like this–how she makes me feel–in months. In fact, I don't know if I've truly felt anything in months. But this girl next to me now, she makes me feel all of the things. Butterflies when she smiles, nerves when she is close, weak when she says my name.

I wonder if she knows the effect she has on people. On me.

Lost in thought, I don't realize I'm staring at Haven as she fills my mind.

Her laugh breaks my trance. It's an I know something you don't sort of chuckle. And then she is extending her hand to me, and I am easily taking it in mine, eerily certain this girl can read my mind.

I don't ask the question on the tip of my tongue as Haven's fingers interlock through my own. I don't ask what she's doing to me, I don't ask why, I don't ask what she thinks of all of this. I just revel in her touch and the way it sends lightning strikes through my soul.

Haven stops the car not long after we started driving. We end up at the local park in the center of town, right in front of the playground. I shoot Haven a questioning stare, which she answers with nothing more than a bold raise of her eyebrows.

She picks up my hand again as we walk to the swings, and I let her.

We sit in silence for a moment as we kick our legs back and forth, allowing the swings to take us up into the air before bringing us back to reality over and over again.

I notice Haven slowing down after a few minutes, coming to a stop and closing her eyes as she inhales a deep breath. I do the same, eyeing her curiously. I don't recognize the expression she wears for a moment. She looks as if she is in pain and concern fills my chest. She reaches up to throb her temples. This action further intensifies my wariness. I'm just about to ask what's wrong when she opens her eyes and smiles, and there is my Haven again.

"Your mom seems cool," Haven muses, breaking through the silence clinging to the air around us like a cannonball into a pool—loud, fast, and blunt.

I shrug, unsure of how much I should share about my personal life. It has to be too soon to give the details, but will there ever be a good enough time to tell her the truth?

"She's alright," I find myself muttering finally. "Your mom seemed way cooler."

Haven laughs softly. "We'll agree to disagree there," she mumbles.

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