Seeking Haven // s.m.

Six

Wren

I wake the next morning to my mom standing on the opposite side of the room, opening up the blinds and causing the slits of sun beams to cast upon my face.

I squint at the light, covering my eyes with my arm.

"What are you doing?" I mumble, my voice groggy.

"Just rehearsing for tomorrow, when I wake you for your birthday breakfast!" she claps her hands together quickly. "Your dad and I got you a special present. You're gonna love it."

I sit forward. "Is it a car?"

"I'm not telling," she sneers, placing a finger on her lips. "Get up and get ready."

I stifle a yawn, my eyes begging to close again. Mom has never gotten so overly excited about my birthday, at least not since I was a little kid. My birthday happened to fall right in the middle of all the Haven stuff-- so everyone became dejected and gloomy around my supposedly happy day.

Truth is, every year I become older, Haven doesn't. And everyone knows there's nothing happy about that.

But maybe this is a good thing. Maybe she's finally moving past all of this, letting Haven become a memory-- at last, beginning to accept the fact that she's gone.

I take at least ten minutes to waller out of my unmade, disheveled duvet and trudge into the bathroom. I had to keep the heater on 24/7 in here, because it's extra chilly in the morning and we don't keep the heat on through spring.

I begin brushing my teeth, staring at myself in the mirror. While looking, I began to compare myself to Haven without meaning to-- since I was thinking about her since last night with Marlene.

I couldn't help it: I cringed. The differences between the two of us were immense.

Haven had dark, rich hair with untaught beach waves that scaled down her spine and stopped just shy of her waist. Her lips were a natural shade of burning red, cheekbones high when she smiled her million-dollar grin. She was one of those girls that you take one look at and immediately feel your self esteem drop drastically in the pit of your stomach.

Me, on the other hand, well. I know that even wishing for such an effect was pointless. My hair wasn't glossy and wavy like hers, it was lighter, blonder, and limp, and went only a few inches past my shoulders. My face was blank, with all of it's features barely noticeable-- pale eyes, small nose, soft pink lips.

And as for curves, well, I kind of hoped that from the ages of fourteen to eighteen my genetics would be fairly generous, as they were for her, but unfortunately for me; I wasn't so lucky. I didn't make heads turn like she did, I didn't look as if I just stepped out of the latest issue of Vogue.

My beauty, if at all, was quiet. It wasn't obvious like Haven's. And comparing myself to her was not only pathetic, but let's just say, if it was a competition, it wasn't even a close call.

Before I could step into the shower, my phone started buzzing from its place on the charger atop the counter. Dace's face immediately popped up on the screen, and I was slightly relived, hoping to finally get some answers on why he's ditched me twice in a row.

I hated to say it, but I was worried. I know that makes me a smothery helicopter girlfriend-- because God, I know, it's only been a day-- but I was scared something might've happened to him.

"Hello?" I raise the phone to my ear, my voice shaping around the toothbrush I stuck in my mouth.

"Hey, Wren," he says softly.