her lips.
I have my own dreams
No matter what you say
I’m still going to believe
I’m still going to walk away
Haven stopped to write down the last few lines. These words felt right. They were
coming from a place in her heart she knew was true. She kicked her foot along the
deck so that the hammock began to swing again. She closed her eyes and strummed, humming
the words in her head. She might have just written her own anthem.
T HE RAIN had finally stopped. Haven stretched her arms above her head and carefully stepped
off the hammock. The only thing she regretted was that it was almost dark and that
meant the day was over. Tomorrow would come early, and so would another full day of
clock watching at the store.
She padded inside and closed the sliding glass door behind her. The air conditioner
had been running all day, and it was chilly in the apartment compared to the humid
air on the porch.
She used the pen in her hand to secure her hair in a twist. It felt good to get it
off her neck. Once she was in writing mode, everything else fell away and out of place.
She hadn’t bothered to take a shower all day or even dab on moisturizer. The plus
side was that she had written two songs that were nearly perfect.
However, her stomach was growling and her brain would need fuel if she was going to
keep up this writing marathon. In ten minutes, she had a pot of water boiling and
a bowlful of spinach leaves washed.
She dumped in a handful of spaghetti noodles when she heard the chime on her phone.
It was Travis.
I need to talk.
Crap. This was exactly what she didn’t want to do. Lucky for her, yesterday was his
day off from work. He told her he was going to surf all day. Today, she was off from
the store so they hadn’t talked since the morning after Ben’s party. Eventually, she
would have to face him. It was stupid to think two days apart would put her back in
the friend zone in his mind.
She tried to think of a casual response to keep things light.
What’s up?
I’ll be over in 5.
Haven grimaced.
Maybe another time. I’m not feeling great.
It was a complete lie, but she had spaghetti, salad, and an amazing song to craft.
She watched her phone anxiously. After a minute, she slipped it into her pocket. Travis
must have taken the hint. Relieved, she twisted the cork off a bottle of red wine
and poured a glass of the crimson liquid. It tasted sweet on her tongue. It was amazing
how it soothed all the stress from her body the text had created.
“Haven! Haven!” Travis’s voice carried through her door along with several heavy knocks.
She coughed on the last gulp of wine and rushed to the door. He wasn’t supposed to
be here.
“Trav, what’s going on?” She stepped back as he barreled past her.
He was carrying a straw bag in one hand. From the top, Haven saw pink petals peeping
out.
“Are you ok? Are you really sick?” His brow furrowed, as he appeared to do a quick
assessment of her condition.
“I’m tired. Exhausted actually. I’m having a bite of dinner, and then I’m going to
bed. Can we talk another time?” She followed him to the kitchen. Apparently, he thought
she wasn’t seriously ill.
The straw bag was on the center of her table, and he began emptying the contents:
vanilla pillar candles, pink roses, a speaker, chocolate, and a bottle of wine.
“What’s all this?” The nervous feeling had crept back to her stomach.
The surfer shifted on his feet. “The other night. It was all wrong. All wrong.” His
hair, damp from the rain, clung to his forehead.
“I know it was.” She sighed, wishing they were on the same page, but knowing that
this display of romance said something completely different.
“And I want everything with you to be perfect. So I brought it—the perfect night.”
He crossed the four steps between them and wrapped his arm around her waist.
The smell of his
I have my own dreams
No matter what you say
I’m still going to believe
I’m still going to walk away
Haven stopped to write down the last few lines. These words felt right. They were
coming from a place in her heart she knew was true. She kicked her foot along the
deck so that the hammock began to swing again. She closed her eyes and strummed, humming
the words in her head. She might have just written her own anthem.
T HE RAIN had finally stopped. Haven stretched her arms above her head and carefully stepped
off the hammock. The only thing she regretted was that it was almost dark and that
meant the day was over. Tomorrow would come early, and so would another full day of
clock watching at the store.
She padded inside and closed the sliding glass door behind her. The air conditioner
had been running all day, and it was chilly in the apartment compared to the humid
air on the porch.
She used the pen in her hand to secure her hair in a twist. It felt good to get it
off her neck. Once she was in writing mode, everything else fell away and out of place.
She hadn’t bothered to take a shower all day or even dab on moisturizer. The plus
side was that she had written two songs that were nearly perfect.
However, her stomach was growling and her brain would need fuel if she was going to
keep up this writing marathon. In ten minutes, she had a pot of water boiling and
a bowlful of spinach leaves washed.
She dumped in a handful of spaghetti noodles when she heard the chime on her phone.
It was Travis.
I need to talk.
Crap. This was exactly what she didn’t want to do. Lucky for her, yesterday was his
day off from work. He told her he was going to surf all day. Today, she was off from
the store so they hadn’t talked since the morning after Ben’s party. Eventually, she
would have to face him. It was stupid to think two days apart would put her back in
the friend zone in his mind.
She tried to think of a casual response to keep things light.
What’s up?
I’ll be over in 5.
Haven grimaced.
Maybe another time. I’m not feeling great.
It was a complete lie, but she had spaghetti, salad, and an amazing song to craft.
She watched her phone anxiously. After a minute, she slipped it into her pocket. Travis
must have taken the hint. Relieved, she twisted the cork off a bottle of red wine
and poured a glass of the crimson liquid. It tasted sweet on her tongue. It was amazing
how it soothed all the stress from her body the text had created.
“Haven! Haven!” Travis’s voice carried through her door along with several heavy knocks.
She coughed on the last gulp of wine and rushed to the door. He wasn’t supposed to
be here.
“Trav, what’s going on?” She stepped back as he barreled past her.
He was carrying a straw bag in one hand. From the top, Haven saw pink petals peeping
out.
“Are you ok? Are you really sick?” His brow furrowed, as he appeared to do a quick
assessment of her condition.
“I’m tired. Exhausted actually. I’m having a bite of dinner, and then I’m going to
bed. Can we talk another time?” She followed him to the kitchen. Apparently, he thought
she wasn’t seriously ill.
The straw bag was on the center of her table, and he began emptying the contents:
vanilla pillar candles, pink roses, a speaker, chocolate, and a bottle of wine.
“What’s all this?” The nervous feeling had crept back to her stomach.
The surfer shifted on his feet. “The other night. It was all wrong. All wrong.” His
hair, damp from the rain, clung to his forehead.
“I know it was.” She sighed, wishing they were on the same page, but knowing that
this display of romance said something completely different.
“And I want everything with you to be perfect. So I brought it—the perfect night.”
He crossed the four steps between them and wrapped his arm around her waist.
The smell of his
Similar Books
