Seeking Haven // s.m.

Six

"Where were you last night?" I ask him, an I was surprised when it came out quite harsh. "I had to get a ride home from a stranger."

"I'm so so sorry, baby," he hushes himself. "I feel awful. I tried to make it, I really did."

"You stood me up at the party, too, and I had to get a ride home from Shawn. Then you show up the next day at school as if nothing happened? What is going on, Dace? Just talk to me about it, that's all I'm asking."

Geez. I sounded ridiculously clingy. I wish I had a chill switch that I could click anytime someone pisses me off-- though it's not like I have any friends outside of Dace to do so.

"I will, okay, I will explain everything, Wren. I just, I don't want to do it over the phone, alright? Can you meet me?" His voice sounded desperate, despairing.

"Wha-- now?"

"If you're not busy?"

"It's like 6am," I yawn, spitting the swished toothpaste into the sink and rinsing it down the drain. "I have to get ready for school. Why aren't you, by the way?"

It hit me then that his voice didn't sound fuddled or muzzy even the slightest bit, as if he had been up and active for hours. I hated that he was doing stuff behind my back now. We usually tell each other everything, and I mean all of it. Sometimes I would even text him to let him know I was running inside the convenience store to grab tampons. As long as he knew where to find me, just in case.

"I'm ditching today, I have too much to do," he explains.

I wipe my mouth with the hand towel hanging on the ring beside the sink and stare at my reflection again, picturing myself saying the words to his face.

"Can you just-- ugh, Dace, come on. Can you meet after? Wait, no, I have to work."

"You got the job?" he seems surprised. "That was fast."

"Too much to explain."

"Okay, whatever. I can meet tonight if that's alright? I'll pick you up, I swear," he assures me, and I could imagine him crossing his heart with his fingers like he always does when using that tone.

I press my lips together, opening up a drawer and pulling out my face wash and makeup wipes. Maybe tonight, if all goes well, whatever he's been keeping from me could turn out to be good news. Maybe a surprise for me, perhaps? A birthday present?

A car?

No, he couldn't get me a car. He couldn't afford it.

But hey, can't hurt to keep an open mind.

"Alright," I sigh. "Be at the restaurant at ten o' clock sharp. We'll go to the Mexican Place."

"Gotta love the Mexican Place," he giggles. "I'll see you at ten."

"If you show," I add. Then I add a laugh so he knows we're okay.

"Love you," he mumbles, and before I could respond with the same chirpy words, the line goes dead.

***

"You're working tables six and twelve," Marlene instructs me, pointing to each one with her skinny, manicured fingernail, her cheek nearly pressed to mine. "I've got seven, eight, nine, ten, and eleven."