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

.”
She couldn’t help it. She sobbed, and with every fiber of her body screaming at her to, she kissed him, desperately. His warm taste collided in her mouth, mixed with salty tears, and she smiled at how refreshing it felt. The bliss and the comfort

of the kiss were so much better than Johnny’s wet, intolerable kisses. And the moment she thought of Johnny, she pressed herself closer to Jules (despite the pain it caused in her stomach), aching for the security of his warm embrace. Aching for him

, and all of his love for her.
After a long, wonderful moment lost in the heat of the moment, Jules pulled away, making a small noise in the back of his throat. “We should stop. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
She whimpered, desperate for his gentle, reassuring touch. “Okay,” she breathed, letting her good judgment steer the way. She yearned to keep going—to fall tangled in his arms and never let go. But her body was weakening, crumbling from the stress of her injuries and the strain she’d put on them, and all she could do was agree. “Maybe we can continue later.”
He chuckled, only a little, and brushed her hair behind her ears. “Maybe.”
She smiled, overwhelmed with the goodness of his presence. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For still loving me, even after everything I’ve put you through.” She pulled the blanket up to her face and cuddled into it, hiding herself. “You’ve been so good to me, and I just wanted to thank you.” She bit her lip, nervous flutters bouncing in her stomach as she added, “I love you, Jules. More than anything.”
He pulled the blanket away from her face, and his hand found hers under the scratchy fabric. A small smile lit up his face. “I love you more.” He squeezed her hand, and winked. “Much, much more.”
She pushed him on the shoulder, giggling, relieved to be comfortable in her own skin again. Relieved to be back with her loved ones again, and finally free from Johnny’s taunting clutches. “Whatever,” she sang sweetly, conceding. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you still love me,” he growled tauntingly, as if he was suggesting much more than those innocent words did. “Can’t take it back now.”
She sighed, neither a happy sigh nor a sad sigh, and fell against the pillow in exhaustion. She closed her eyes again, and, to her own surprise, was no longer greeted with the horrific memories of Johnny’s abuse that had haunted her dreams and plagued her mind since the moment he’d stolen her innocence. Instead she was greeted with a warm, inviting darkness that promised her nothing but good things.
Things like pure, beautiful hope. Hope that, even if it took a long time to come alive, she’d eventually find the kind of pure, nightmare-free peace she’d been desperate to have for years.
And with that last thought drifting through her mind, she gave into her own exhaustion.

“SKYE?” SOMEONE WAS saying, trying to pull Skye out of her heavy, tranquil slumber. “Skye, I’ve gotta talk to you about something.”
In the haze of her cloudy, sleep infested mind, she thought the voice belonged to Jules, but when she opened her eyes and looked up into Victor’s face, she realized how off she was. “Vic?” she croaked, throat dry and hollow. “What is it?”
He smiled. “Oh good, you’re awake.”
She groaned and covered her face with her hands. “I am now.”
He crouched down beside the bed, gaze locked solely on her. “Sorry.”
“No it’s okay,” she insisted, waving his apology off. “What’s up?”
“I just thought I’d let you know that I’m heading out of town. For good.”
“W-what?” she spluttered, coughing in the midst of a yawn. “You’re—you’re . . . leaving

? Why?”
“Yes,” he said, and to Skye’s surprise, took her hand in his. “I’ve decided that I’d like a fresh start. And if that means getting out of this town, then so be it.”
She shook her head, so miserably confused and taken aback that she didn’t know what else to say. “Are you ever going to come back?” She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t pulled her hand away from his yet or—more importantly—why she even cared that he was leaving, especially after their last confrontation with each other, but for some odd reason, she couldn’t let go of him that easily. “I mean—are you still going to visit Jules? After all, he is your best friend.”
He shrugged. “Maybe someday I’ll come back and visit. But as far as coming back to stay for good . . . no, I won’t be. I’d like to get a good understanding of who I really am before I invest into anything long-term. Sometimes it’s good to just get away, you know?”
She nodded before she even could tell herself not to. And without giving it any thought, she leaned over and gave Victor a quick peck on the cheek. Despite the rocky relationship they’d had in the past, she managed to find herself caring about him. And she decided it was about time she’d forgive him of his past mistakes and give him another chance. No one ever said you couldn’t give third-chances.
For a moment, his face was a mask of surprise and confusion, but he covered it up just as quickly as it had come and replaced it with a glowing bright smile. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he teased, raising an eyebrow.
She giggled, and shoved him away. “Shut up.”
He grinned. “A definite yes.” And before she could slug him again, he stood up and took a step away from her. “I guess this is goodbye, then.”
“I guess it is.”
“I really am sorry I ever hurt you, Skye. It was never my intention.”
“I know, Vic.”
“Well, I guess I’ll see you later.” He shifted nervously from side to side, hands jammed in his jeans pockets. “I wish you and Jules only the best.”
“Thank you.” She smiled sincerely. “That means a lot.” An awkward silence hung in the air between them for a minute, and Skye fumbled with her split ends, not knowing what else to say. Then it came to her. She snapped her attention back on him and studied him carefully. “Did you tell Rachel?”
He sighed, hung his head low. “Yes,” he said. “I told her everything.”
“Everything?”
“I told her about the kiss, and about the move.”
“How is she?”
“Heartbroken,” he said gruffly. “I hate leaving her like that, but it’ll be better this way. I won’t be able to cause her—or anyone else—any more pain if I’m gone. And I think she understands that.”
Skye’s stomach sunk. Rachel knew about the kiss. And that could only mean that she also knew that he didn’t have real feelings for her, and he’d been using her. The sooner she could talk to Rachel, the better. She’d be in great need of a friend right now.
“You better hope she does,” Skye warned Victor. “Because if she doesn’t, and instead decides that she wants you dead, it’ll be my job to kill you. It’s in the Best Friend Handbook.” Despite herself, she smiled a smug half-smile.
“So, does that mean if you break Jules’s heart I have permission to take you out of the picture, too?”
Her only response was a cold-hard glare.
Victor held up his hands in defense. “Okay, okay, I get it. I’m gone.”
“Just don’t go breaking any more hearts, okay?”
He scoffed. “I can’t promise you that.”
She glared at him. “Victor . . .” her voice trailed off warningly.
“Don’t worry about me, Skye. Just take care of yourself, all right?”
She was about to tell him he was playing with fire, but before she could he’d already slipped out of the room, leaving her alone with only her thoughts to occupy her with.
Sinking back into the comfort of the blanket, she sighed and closed her eyes. She wished for sleep to steal her away again, capturing in its easy, uncomplicated clutches. And when her thoughts drifted to Jules and all of his love for her, she instantly found herself swaying in and out of consciousness.
And soon enough, she forgot about all the troubles of reality and fell into the calm, hazy realm of Dreamland.

A HARSH, BITTER GUST OF WIND SWEPT PASSED SKYE, almost knocking her over as she grasped the cool, steal door handle of Omar’s Coffee House. With only one hand clutching onto her crutches for dear life, she pressed herself against the wall beside her and used the leverage to assist her in opening the heavy door. When she finally managed to slip inside (not without many difficulties) she had to catch her breath from the effort. Even after five days experience of walking with the obnoxious things, she still hadn’t gotten used to using the crutches. She imagined she never would.
Wiping a bead of sweat from her brow, she sneaked a peek towards the service counter, searching for the familiar face of the man she’d fallen so madly in love with over the summer. It didn’t take her long to spot the boy she longed so deeply to see, flashing his trademark half-smile at one of the costumers at the counter—a girl she recognized from school but couldn’t recall her name—as he handed her a steaming mug of something Skye could only assume was either a mocha or tea.
She sighed heavily, body gone week from the sight of him, and if she hadn’t been using the crutches