Huh, Finlay's done quite some damage.
In the meantime, let's see what our favourite pesky blonde has been up to.

Let me know what you think, and enjoy 😊

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alanna stared at her mobile in outrage.
And sorrow.
So it was true: Finlay had proposed to his bitch of a girlfriend. And she had spurned him.
The young woman almost threw her phone against the wall in fury: how the hell did she dare reject him?
He was everything a girl could ever possibly want or dream: handsome, clever, kind, loving, passionate... And probably good in bed, too.
The mere thought sent a shiver down her spine; oh, how many sleepless nights had she lost, trying to imagine what he would be like...
But Finlay wasn't just a stud.
He was a good guy; he was funny; he was generous; he was smart.
Her mind went back to all the times he had been kind to her, had made her laugh, had helped her with her lines...

No.
Such an act could not go unpunished.
Alanna grabbed her handbag, pulling out her car keys: she was going to drive to that bitch's house, and chew her out.
Maybe she'd even get to slap her.
Her hands tingled with anticipation

Upon pulling up against the sidewalk of the mansion, Alanna was met with a sight she would never forget, for the rest of her life: Haven was out in the garden.
Nothing weird with that.

She was wearing a grey tracksuit; the sweatshirt was  halfway open to reveal a pearl pink tank top, which was the same colour as her socks and shoes.
Typical Haven; even in leisure clothes, she looked like she was about to parade down the catwalk.
Alanna rolled her eyes in annoyance.
What really interested her was that Haven was sitting on the swing, slowly rocking back and forth, using her feet as leverage.
Her head hung down, hidden by her sleek black hair that always smelled like strawberry.
Seriously.
Despite the hatred she harboured for this Barbie-wannabe, Alanna had always envied the smell of her hair, and how shiny it was: her own unkempt blond tuft was a lost case, and she hated it.
As if having such an amazing boyfriend was not enough: she had to be gorgeous and popular, too.
Once she was done with her inspection, the blonde walked up toward the brunette, going over what she wanted to say in her head.
Haven had not even heard her.
Or, more probably, she was ignoring her; arrogant bitch.
No sooner had that thought crossed her mind than the brunette tilted her face upward to identify the intruder, and Alanna gasped: though there was no smudge of mascara on her skin, her face was tear-streaked, and her eyes were puffy.
She had been crying.
The girl did not find it in her to goad over her swollen eyes and all in all bedraggled aspect, which surprised her deeply.
She told herself that it was merely the amazement of seeing Haven like this for the first time; the undeniable evidence she, too, was human.
It rendered her speechless.
Wiping at her face with one hand, Haven spoke
<<What do you want?>>
Alanna was even more surprised, almost worried, noticing her voice was not even nearly as biting as usual; rather, it sounded feeble and croaky, like a that of rock singers after a concert.
Her attitude, too, was meeker than she had ever witnessed. She felt like someone had pulled the rug from under her feet, knocking her on her arse.
Why had she come here in the first place?
While the newcomer hesitated, Haven moved, turning her back to her.
She couldn't bear for Alanna to see her in those conditions. What would she think of her?
She knew for a thing that, even though the girl loathed her with a passion, at least she respected her, somehow.
It was terrible enough, to be despised by the one who holds your heart; if she lost that shard of respect, too...
Heaven forbid
<<Would you look at me while I speak? It's rude to turn around while I'm still here!>>
The fire in her voice melted Haven; it was one of the things that she loved the most about the blonde.
She collected herself, took a deep breath and turned around, mustering all her abilities to dissimulate, and snarled
<<I don't care!>>
It wasn't even nearly convincing enough.
She was too broken to play the part.
If this were an audition, her mother would have been so disappointed in her. But then again, when was she not?
Sadly for her, the other young woman had heard the evident crack inner voice.
Confusion was written all over her face.
Haven smiled sadly; she would have expected her to poke fun at her for not being her usual, hateful self.
Instead, she was puzzled... Because no one had ever seen Haven Dahmer sad, or hurt.
She was impeccable, incomparable, unreachable...
How far from reality was the image the world seemed to have of her. She just wanted to show her true self.
But who would accept her?
Most importantly, who would believe her?
<<I came here because I can't believe how stupid you are>>
<<You're talking about something in particular?>>
Alanna's face became red
<<I'm talking about you turning down Finn! What's the matter with you? Do you want to play with this heart like a cat with a yarn ball? Do you want to assert your superiority on him? Why the hell would you say no?>>
<<Because I can't do this anymore!>>
Haven shouted, fresh tears pooling in her eyes.
She was tired of pretending.
And Alanna always seemed to have a way with making her tell the truth: that was why she was especially nasty to her, no matter how painful it was for herself.
She hid her face in her hands, sobbing.
The other woman gaped: something really bad must have happened, for her to bawl like that...
<<I'm tired of being someone I'm not. I'm tired of being who the world expects me to be!>>
So perhaps her life was not as perfect as it could seem...
Instinctively, Alanna reached out for her, wanting to calm her down
<<Haven...>>
The brunette sniffled, peeking at her from between her fingers. Alanna's breath caught in her throat as she found herself thinking how cute she looked.
She removed her hands, taking them in hers, smiling hesitantly.
That was too much for Haven.
In a second, the dark-haired girl had pressed her lips against the blonde's, framing her face with cold, moist hands. She was pouring her heart and soul into the kiss, and was determined not to let the other get away.
Speaking of which, Alanna had frozen on the spot, while her brain tried to process what was happening: she was kissing Haven Dahmer. No, wait: Haven Dahmer had kissed her.
Her lips were even softer than they looked, and she tasted like candy. She wondered what the model was thinking of her own chapped, not-cared-for mouth.
They stayed like that for a while; it seemed like an eternity.
Until a rustle disturbed them.
Haven's eyes grew wide: her mother!
She was home. If she were to see them, she would throw her out in a heartbeat.
Without a word, she pulled away and ran so fast inside her house that Alanna pondered whether she had made the whole thing up in her mind.
But no: the stain of gloss on her lips was too vivid for it to be a dream.
Slowly, dazed, she walked back to her car, feeling as though her body were something else from her mind.
There would be time to talk about Finlay, she told herself as she headed to her favourite pub; first of all, she had to get her own thoughts together.

Haven leaned against the door of her room, panting: she had just darted up the stairs as if an assassin had been hot on her heels.
Fortunately, the swish of the curtain that had interrupted the most romantic moment of her life was not due to her mother spying on her.
She was of course sad that the kiss had ended so soon, but she could not risk the old hag catching her in that situation.
She launched herself headfirst on her bed, reaching for her mobile: 30 lost calls from Finlay, and about 70 texts.
Damn, that boy did not know when to take a hike.
She loathed herself for lying to him, leading him on and using him, but she had to survive somehow. She had hoped that he would be just one of those famous idiots who chill with girls just because they are hot, and not a guy looking for a serious relationship; as luck would have it, he was a complete 180 from what she needed.
Not that she didn't like him, no: he was adorable, treated her like a princess and did absolutely nothing wrong. The problem was hers.
Hers and her heart's, who beat only, solely, for Alanna who, of course, had a crush on him.
Great: a love triangle. Just what she needed for her life to become even more fucked up.

She couldn't do it anymore.
She could no longer live with herself knowing she was toying with the lives and emotions of so many people, causing heartbreak and pain. It had to stop.
Now.
She fisted the pink duvet on her bed, and smiled sardonically: how would the world react if she were to reveal she hated that colour completely?
Yellow.
Her favourite colour was yellow.
Any bright hue, actually.
That was one of the many reasons Alanna intrigued her so much: she always wore vivid tones, and unusual clothes.
To Haven, they made her look adorable. She was adorable.
And in love with your ex boyfriend, her subconscious reminded her.
Bloody hell.

She had had enough. She wanted to get away from it all.
Her eyes landed on her trolley in the corner -again, pink. The mere sight of it summoned vomit to the recesses of her mouth.
She stood up, determination flowing in her veins.
Her mother wanted pink? Well, she would make her see red

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Did you see that coming?
I bet not 😎