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

She saw it, everything Rachel was saying, and understood it. Though she felt sadness about including her friend in something so wrong she wished it would just go away, she also felt reassurance. She felt hope nibble its way into her thoughts.
“Okay,” was all she could say. She needed to shed no more tears.
A sound, resembling knuckles tapping the door post, resonated throughout her room and jolted her nerves, sending her head and body springing towards the sound. Before registering who it was, she pictured Johnny, his large and threatening body standing in the doorway, glaring at her and Rachel, ready to strikeout. But when she realized who was really standing before her, she froze, an entirely different wave of nerves pounding through her body.
It was Jules.
“Knock, knock,” he said around a sloppy grin.
Skye’s heart started slamming against her chest, the surprise of seeing him again warming her body in an overwhelming frenzy. He had been in her dreams too, always hiding in the background, too far away for her to run and be with him though. And seeing him there, in her room, standing before her, was all too unreal. When her gaze met with his shoulder, she wanted to cry. She couldn’t believe he had been shot, even if it hadn’t been lethal. She hated living with the guilt that she was partially the reason for the wound in his shoulder; it brought her heart slumped down, aching in pain. Even worse, she had lied to him, hurt him before everything had happened. So why was he even there, standing before her in her room? She didn’t think she deserved a second chance.
Her emotions were going every which way, tossing her into a whirlwind of insecurity. She didn’t know which way to turn next, only that she needed to talk to the boy before her.
Nudging Rachel on her shoulder, she forced a quivering smile towards Jules’s direction. She couldn’t have Rachel in the same room when she talked to Jules, if he’d let her.
“Come in,” she said quietly, barely above a whisper.
Rachel slid off the bed and whispered into Skye’s ear subtly, “Don’t let him get away. He’s definitely worth it.” Then she was walking out of the room, passing Jules and closing the door behind her.
Despite her nerves, Skye smiled, thought about what Rachel had said. It seemed too good to be true to think like that, to think that she could have a second chance with him. She only wanted for it to work out between them, though. If one thing was for sure, her feelings towards him were more than she could handle. They thrived in a good way, one that knocked on the door to her heart and jiggled the handle.
Before she could even think about it, she was on her feet, throwing herself at Jules. She wrapped her arms around his stiff body, curling into him and wanting to never let go. Breathing in his scent, she sighed and felt a pang of unbelievable warmth suffocate her. She felt his body release the stiffness, arms falling around her, and leaned closer to him. His warmth, so strong and safe, overwhelmed her cold and shaky body, releasing any insecurity she felt. And she liked the feeling, it was intoxicating, in the best way.
“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. The sound of her voice was muffled in his shirt, but she didn’t care. She only needed to get the words out, before, guilt-ridden, she did something more she would regret. “I didn’t want to hurt you; I never

wanted to hurt you.”
“Skye, it’s okay, don’t do this to yourself,” he told her in a hushed tone, brushing his fingers gingerly through her hair. He was holding her then, in that moment, his gentle touch soothing the hammering beat of Skye’s aching heart.
Blinking her eyes wide and open, she took a quivering breath. “No,” she objected. “It’s not okay, Jules. I shouldn’t have lied to you,”—she gasped, surprised by why she was admitting to have lied to him—“I led you right into getting shot. Unintentionally maybe, but nevertheless, I pushed you away. Don’t you see it, Jules? You never would’ve gotten hurt if it wasn’t for me.”
She retreated, sunk to the floor, curled away from him. Guilt washed over her like a tidal wave, beating against her brutally. Admitting to the lies cut through her like a knife, peeling away at her very last nerve. He knew, she imagined. He knew she had lied about the way things truly were and should be.
A soft brush against her shoulder, the shuffle of someone sitting beside her, broke her away from her thoughts.
“Please don’t,” a voice, so quiet and forgiving it seemed to rip right though her spoke. “Don’t blame yourself for what happened, Skye. It wasn’t you.”
A pause, sigh.
“You may have lied, pushed me away; but I know you were only trying to protect me. Rachel told me everything Bryan warned you about. She only wanted to help. She would have never told me if it could’ve risked breaking the boundaries of trust. But let me tell you something, Skye,” he explained. Pulling her hand in his, he smiled faintly. “It’s good she told me; because, now it all makes sense. You’ve done nothing wrong here, Skye. I could never blame you for what happened—never

.”
Even though part of it didn’t feel right to her, after such a rough past few days, she enlaced her fingers carefully in his, gulping air. Pressure, in her stomach, shattered all of the wrong feeling. It broke away the pieces that didn’t want to work right, setting off wrong from the right. The pressure was an unmistakable power, a force beyond physical feeling. Vibrant life filled her body, revitalizing the once frail and uncertain patch of love in her heart. Her feelings for Jules blossomed, thoroughly, into something so much more than a friendship.
All those times they’d had together brought her love for him at bay, waiting, simply waiting for a time when the love could be displayed. But then, in that moment, it was peeling away from the bay, letting her give a small glance.
“Jules?” she breathed, turning around and peering at him through her bangs. He nodded, encouraged her. “How come you’re here, with me?”
He smiled, faintly. “Do you even have to ask?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Because I’ve forgotten, it’s

forgotten. We don’t have to wallow in it—the pain, that is.”
“You mean, you want to start over? Act like nothing happened?” She tried to grapple with what he was saying, surprise clinging in the back of her mind. “After everything I said to you, you still want to be around me?”
His face contorted into thought, pondering. In a moment, he had both of her hands in his, brushing them with his thumbs. He brought himself closer to her, looking her straight in the eyes. “Skye,” he whispered. “I want to be with you. I don’t want to leave or lose you. You mean way too much to me. I’m not going to let an injury or misunderstanding tear us apart, I couldn’t.”
Crying inside, the words so precious and perfect in her ears, she looked down at their hands. She studied the way he was so careful with her, not once taking the situation for granted. It reminded her of Bryan, what he hadn’t always been, but she tried to ignore the memories. She was letting him go, as he wished, and was done showing weakness.
Not knowing which way to go next with their conversation, she tested the waters. Slowly, Skye pushed herself into his lap, letting go of his hands and clasping hers behind his head. She kissed him then, letting their friendship fall into something more. It felt right, even with all the withering problems of reality, it seemed right. Jules was always meant to be something more, no matter how much she had tried to deny it before, it wasn’t enough, they were meant

to be more.
He kissed her back, hands at her sides, gently holding her. He was always gentle, always careful with her, and she needed that. It made things so much better, made everything fit into place. She carried the storm and he, the aftermath, soothing over the pestering wounds left with the damage of the storm.
She didn’t pull away, but waited for him to, knowing it would be too soon when he did. But, to her surprise, he didn’t pull away, he followed

her lead. Hastily, she broke free from his lips, gasping. “You were right Jules,” she breathed, still catching her breath from their passion. “It would have been lies; there’s definitely something more between us.”
Jules, his breathing heavy, regarded her with wide eyes, obviously a little surprised she’d said something like that, broke it out into the open. “I told you,” he whispered. Brushing his lips over her jaw line, he let his hot breath wisp her hair back a little. Slight vibration—she felt against his chest— quiet laughter. “Start over?”
Without thinking, she nodded her head. A smile played with her lips, dancing. Heat flared across her cheeks when he caressed her, bringing his lips back against hers gently. She didn’t mind his lead, it allowed her to bathe in the new feelings she’d uncovered from inside her, it allowed this feeling—love

—to peck around the edges of their relationship.
“And Jules,” she murmured around his lips. “This time, let’s not hide what we’re feeling. We should be honest about us

, honest about what’s going on around us, and not hide anything

from each other.”
Something was pushing her to keep going: confidence. Finally, though it took too long to come, she was finding herself again. She was finding her own confidence, even with relationships. And that, was something she had never thought she could feel again after Bryan. But Bryan gave her something when he left. He gave her more than that lost confidence, but also another chance—another chance at love. And this time, it wouldn’t haunt her like the previous one had.
Jules smiled against her lips, “Sounds perfect.” Chuckling, he shifted, picking her up from underneath and carrying her as he rose, standing up.
She giggled. The shift of his movements surprised her, pulling her away from his lips. She wrapped her hands behind his head again, playing her lips with his. Wrapping her legs around him, she helped keep herself upright. She didn’t doubt his strength, but it felt right that way.
His hands were at the small of her back, pulling her close. Breaking away, he looked at her wide eyes, grinning, panting. “You really know how to make me happy, don’t you?” he said.
A pink, vibrant blush heated her face, embarrassed. She shook the hair out of her face, looking into his bold emeralds and smiling. “I guess so, yeah,” she mumbled. Biting her bottom lip, she played with his shaggy hair.
He laughed, rolling his eyes.
“What?” she whined.
“Nothing,” he replied. “Everything’s perfect.”
More blushing, a shy smile, was her response.
She felt