Restoration

CHAPTER 1 Avery

Everyone says Owen and I are the perfect couple. That our names just don’t blend with anyone else’s. That we belong together. Lately, I’ve been starting to think less and less of those statements. Don’t get me wrong, Owen is a fantastic guy. Sweet, caring, kind, really talented, but I just don’t know anymore. Chemistry is gone. However, I don’t think Owen has caught onto that yet.

I don’t want to break up with him; he makes me feel safe, secure. He feels like the safest guy to be with, so I don’t get hurt. God, something is wrong with me. Forget it. Stop thinking. Get ready for school.

I run my straightener through my auburn hair, admiring the way it flowed passed my shoulders nicely.

“Shit!” I screeched. I just burnt my finger. I turned on the faucet and let the cold water run down my fingers. I had so much on my mind. It was a new semester at my school that I just wasn’t mentally prepared for.

I decide to give up on my hair, it was good enough. I grab my mascara and start lightly gliding it through my eyelashes. I admire how the sparkles in the mascara compliment my hazel eyes. I check the time, 7:15. Five minutes late. Zoey is not going to be happy with me. I draw a quick line of eyeliner under my eyes, snatch my backpack up, and run out the door.

It was a cool November morning, and as I walk towards my Sapphire Blue 1964 Ford Mustang, I see a little wriggling tail sticking out from under my car. I sigh and open my car door thinking the cat would just run away. I throw my backpack in the backseat, and put the key in the ignition, and hear my car growl to life. God, I love my car! Me, my dad, and my two brothers all restored it when I was younger, no idea that it was going to be my 17th birthday present. I look out the window, to check if the cat finally came out from under the car. I sat majestically away from the car. I rolled my eyes and started to back up my driveway.

Usually, when I’m on my way to pick up Zoey for school, I always play every possible scenario in my head. If I get a compliment, if someone insults me, every single thing. That’s my problem; I always need to be prepared for a social meeting. If I’m not, I’m afraid of making myself look like an idiot. But no, I wasn’t going to look stupid. I’ve got this. I always do.