Less than Perfect by S. J. Evans (love letters to the dead txt) 📕

He looked as if he was carefully holding himself back, afraid that if he made an attempt to kiss her she would draw away. And she hated seeing him like that. So careful and gentle that she only wanted him to hold her so much more. The beauty and sympathy was all too different than what she had seen or heard about from Johnny in the past few days, and that made her heart burn for the opposite even more.
Jules wouldn’t hurt her.
She was the first to move. She stood on her tip-toes and lightly brushed her lips over his, sighing for more. Pulling her up into his arms, he kissed her softly, his full lips joining hers in a gentle dance together. She wound her legs around his chest and clasped her hands together behind his neck, pressing herself for a more passionate kiss.
He chuckled when he felt her fingers play with his hair, clutching a wad in her hands and then releasing again and doing it all over. Drawing himself away, his hands cupping her face, he looked at her. She was practically out of breath but he could see the pleasure she got from it; he felt that same wonderful pleasure.
He traced his finger over her jaw line, the soft touch of his finger sparking her desire a little. And he kissed her again, a careful and sweet gesture. “Trouble?” He breathed.
She lifted her eyelids and smiled at him. “Mhm?”
“I’m not hurting you, am I?” His tone was gentle and quiet, displaying a heartbreaking curiosity.
She didn’t understand how he could ever even think that. But instead of raising her voice and screaming a no, she kissed him again. Their touch sparked a flame in each other’s bodies.
“You couldn’t possibly be hurting me, Jules,” she whispered. She didn’t ask him why he would think that, because she already knew the answer. Since the moment they met, she allowed her fear and weakness to show a little, unwillingly hinting that someone has hurt her in more ways than one.
“I could never want to,” he said quietly. It was almost an inaudible sound—so cautious that at the sound Skye’s body warmed. She always felt warm around him; and that was many times better than how Johnny made her feel. “I think we should find Rachel and Victor. They’ll be looking for us.”
She grinned. “Let’s make them wait, than.”
Chuckling, he pushed her hair behind her ears and grinned at her. “Come on, Trouble. You know just as much as I do that it is better we’re not making them wait. I mean, Rachel just can’t wait to set her eyes on me.” Winking, he set her down on the pier.
She laughed at him, the feel of it calming any nerves she had once had about seeing Victor again, and pushed herself against him.
He hugged her and then dropped his arm around her waist, keeping her as close as he could while they walked.
At the top of the dunes of the beach Victor and Rachel were looking for them. Rachel’s gaze glazed over them and she squealed, grabbing Victor’s hand and prancing down the hill. She called out for them over and over again, an unusual giddiness illuminating off her.
“They spotted us,” Skye whispered to Jules.
“Do you think we should make a run for it? Get out of here?” He questioned, enjoying the idea of actually freeing them both from the unrelenting hold Victor and Rachel could have on them.
“Nah, not this time,” she said. Flaunting herself in front of him, she grinned and playfully moved backwards. “As much as I want to be with just you, I can’t. Rain-check?” she countered.
“Okay. But you owe me now,” he warned playfully.
Rachel collided into Skye, embracing her in a hug. “How have you been, Skye?” She said breathlessly. Her lips were hitched in a smile, her face shining with a measured amount of happiness.
“Alright, hanging in there,” Skye said, shrugging. She smiled at her friend, remembering how much she missed her best-friend. For years, she was the only person she could talk to about anything and nothing; but, ever since things have gotten bad with Bryan and worse with Johnny it seems that all she cares about is keeping her out of it all. Rachel deserves to know though; she hasn’t ever done anything to Skye to make it otherwise.
Grinning mischievously, Rachel leaned in to tell her something. “You have to tell me everything. And I mean everything,” she chuckled. Tugging on Skye’s arm she nodded her head in the direction of the shore. “Come on.”
“You two go have some fun. We’re going to talk for a little bit,” Jules told them, grinning nervously as he patted Victor’s lean shoulder. “Right, Vic?” He added, cocking his head to the side so that Victor’s gaze was clearly resting on him.
Victor grinned then, showing his sharply crafted white teeth. “Right,” he agreed.
Skye faked a smile, trying to push away the thought that whatever it was they were going to talk about could involve her, maybe even what happened between her and Victor.
Rachel led her away, laughing and chattering on about all of the latest gossip from the people who used to be part of Skye’s life. Again, ever since Bryan and Johnny, she hasn’t been around her old friends a lot.
“Skye? Something’s bothering you, isn’t it?” Rachel asked. Her words snapped Skye out of her swirling state of mind, the one that was aching to discover what Victor and Jules were talking about.
She bit her lip and groaned. “Why would you think that something’s wrong? Why does everyone always think there’s something wrong?” She snapped, pulling her arm out of Rachel’s.
Rachel was surprised by her outburst, partially offended, but more than that, curious. She hasn’t seen her upset like that since the last time they talked about Bryan. Stepping in front of her, she blocked the path and set her hands on her friend’s shoulders. “Skye, I’ve known you since we were in diapers, I think that gives me the advantage to know when something’s wrong with my best friend.” She said, creasing her eyebrows. “Besides, you’ve been avoiding me the past few days, and that’s not like you.”
Despite the built up tinge of anger that Skye felt towards her for figuring her out, she sighed and gestured toward the empty place in the sand. “I’m sorry about that, Rachel, really. It’s just—things have been—well… rough

. A lot has changed in the past few weeks.” She explained, having a hard time finding the words. She didn’t want to actually tell Rachel about Johnny and how he’s been limiting her access to her own life, but she also knew that she wasn’t going to be able to keep it secret from her for much longer.
“It’s no big deal, I forgive you. Tell me about it, please. You are my best friend and you can trust me with anything, remember?” she said. Her eyes plead for answers while she stared at her friend as they laid towels down and sat on them.
“I don’t know if I should, it’s a touchy subject.”
“Please, Skye? I promise it will stay between only us.” She added.
“Okay. But you have to keep that promise, Rachel, I’m serious. This isn’t just something flaky; it’s real and dangerous.” Skye was nervous, her pitches climbing and dropping into different octaves. “Please, Rachel. You can’t even tell Victor, really.” She added hesitantly, choking down the displeasure of saying his name. She didn’t understand it, but for some reason, she absolutely feared and disliked Victor. Sometimes she wishes that Rachel wasn’t involved with him, even though she had absolutely no reason to feel the way she did.
“I’m not going to tell anyone

, I promise.” She replied, her eyes showing that she meant business.
“Rachel,” Skye started, fighting the prickling ill sensation that was gnawing on her insides. She couldn’t believe that she was about to spill something that she had worked so hard to keep private so easily; especially right after having told Jules that she couldn’t talk about it with him. She had been right, she couldn’t tell him then because of the situation, but telling Rachel now seemed so frightening and cold.
She choked down any fear and pushed away all of the dark thoughts. Looking at Rachel, she noticed that she was sitting calmly, waiting with bold eyes. Chickening out, she hastily said, “Things are rough at home.”
Rachel wasn’t taking that as an answer though. She folded her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow. “Skye…”She trailed off warningly.
“Fine,” she muttered. “You know Johnny?” She continued, starting the conversation she was afraid of. She didn’t think that she should be doing it--for her and her mom’s sake. But she couldn’t hold herself back either, she knew that she wanted someone to know more than anything else. Maybe if Rachel knew about him she could rescue Skye by inviting her over a lot and keeping close by more. Maybe there would be hope if someone else knew. Not everything, but enough. She wouldn’t tell anyone about how he kissed her the night before.
Rachel nodded, rolling her eyes as she disliked Johnny too.
“Well, he and I haven’t been on good terms lately. That’s partially why I haven’t been trying to hangout with you lately. He’s been busy…’talking’ with me.”
Rachel’s eyes bulged, her jaw threatening to drop. She covered her mouth, her eyebrows furrowing in distress. “What has he been doing with you, Skye?” She gasped.
“Nothing really. He just lost his temper when he found me rummaging through his desk drawers and took it out on me. Abusively.” She shuddered, her lower lip trembling. Shame clasped a tight hold on her throat as her stomach twisted with knots and she bitter sobs of regret. She wasn’t going to be ready to tell Rachel it wasn’t only a one-time thing.
“You’re lying,” Rachel accused. She knew Skye wasn’t lying though, and it was tearing at her heart. She couldn’t believe that Johnny, the man that got under her skin yet seemed harmless, had done something so…wrong

to her best friend. She wanted to scream but she held it in, remembering that there were

people around them. “What exactly did he do to you?” She whispered, leaning closer so that no one could hear them.
Skye sighed, the memory of the night clear in her mind. She remembered every detail whether she wanted to or not. From him throwing her around, to his yelling, and to the slicing of her skin; she remembered it all. It felt just as awful to think of the memory.
“He—he grabbed me, slapped me, threw me against the ground and door, and then he…” Her lips quivered and she realized that tears were trying to spill. Closing her eyes, she tried to stay away from the memory and instead say the words she needed to. “He cut wounds along my arm and stomach, knocking me out a moment later. The next day—yesterday—he told me