Less than Perfect by S. J. Evans (librera reader .TXT) 📖

through Victor’s and led him inside, stepping over the threshold. They followed Skye into the living room and sat down on the couch, Skye falling down into the lounge chair clumsily. She looked slightly ill, as if something stronger than her feelings was draining the energy from her. “Are you okay, Skylar?” Victor asked Skye, his sharp voice cutting through her ears painfully.
She drew back and glared at him. Johnny

, She thought instantly. Johnny’s the only one who calls me that

. Her stomach twisted in a knot at the mere thought of Johnny and she gagged on her own words. She wanted to tell Victor that she preferred Skye, but she couldn’t speak. Her throat was suddenly overwhelmingly dry.
Rachel saw her expression and realized she was thinking about Johnny. Rachel never could understand why Skye hated Johnny so much but she knew that there was something between them. She elbowed Victor and cleared her throat. He instantly smiled and leaned in to kiss her. She smacked his shoulder and pushed him away playfully. “Victor!” She squealed, half anger half giddiness in her tone. “Stop it, little man.”
Skye watched them carefully, her head pulsing, and laughed. They looked happy, carelessly happy. Her heart did a little thump against her chest and she thought about how much she would give to just have a happy relationship with someone. Not a relationship that either resulted in physical or emotional pain. She wanted a real carefree relationship—she thought she would have gotten that from Jules, but he had acted so strange earlier. “Not to be rude or anything, but why are you both really here?” She whispered, her throat releasing enough so that she could slip the words out.
“Oh! Right. I have to go actually.” Rachel and Victor snapped away from their frenzy of playfulness and looked at Skye, slightly shocked.
She frowned at Rachel and sat up in her chair. “What? Where are you going, Rachel?”
“Work. I have to babysit a few little snobby kids, but it pays well. I’ll see you later, babe.” Rachel said quickly, kissing Victor on her way out of the house.
Skye jumped up and hurried into pace to catch up with Rachel, scowling. “You’re leaving me with him?” She whispered with distaste. Even though she didn’t know why and couldn’t place it, Victor made her feel nervous, almost how Johnny made her feel, only, much more on edge and almost curious.
Rachel grinned at her even though she knew Skye didn’t want Victor there. “Yes, he’s great, trust me.” She gave her a quick hug and slipped through the front door, leaving Skye staring after her, stunned. She hated those words. Trust me

. They left such distaste in her stomach; a turning that felt as if it would never let up. Bryan had used those words, over and over again, and for the most part, it was always when he either wanted something from her or he just wanted his own way.
A hand touched Skye’s shoulder and she shrieked and pulled away, her back slamming against the door and knocking her head into it. She shut her eyes and winced as pain shot up her neck and into her head. She touched the back of her head with a hand and felt someone else’s cold hand on her arm. She blinked her eyes open and sucked in a breath.
Victor was standing in front of her, staring carefully into her eyes. He looked scared for her, maybe even nervous. “Hey, look I’m sorry I scared you. Are you okay?” He said quietly, but there wasn’t anything quiet about the way his voice echoed in her ears. His voice was still deep, not harsh but also not smooth.
She blinked her eyes a few more times so that the tears of pain would go away. She was sick of getting herself hurt—or even pretending to. “Look, I’m fine. Just get away from me,” She hissed, ducking under his arms and wobbling over to the couch.
He looked taken aback by her words. He surely hadn’t expected them to come from her lips. “Jules didn’t tell me you were snappy.” He chuckled on the words, as if they were some sort of joke.
She didn’t get it. “Really? He didn’t tell me anything about you.” She bickered, throwing his idea back at him. She hated how he had to bring Jules into this, she was already aching and missing him, why did he have to bring up that painful and beautiful name?
He sauntered over to her and sat down beside her, his long arms sliding behind her on the couch. “Maybe he doesn’t talk about me because of his infatuation with you. He really fancies you, you know?” His voice was calm, the words flowing out smoothly and calmly. He looked at her carefully again, probably examining her head.
She flinched away from him and felt her throat start to sting. She wanted to cry out and yell at him for talking about Jules. He had left her so suddenly and she missed him. Her feelings were overwhelming her heart and clutching it so hard that she couldn’t think straight without him near her. He was a weakness to her just as he kept saying she was with him. “He doesn’t care about me like that,” she whispered, the room around her suddenly seeming dark and cold. Her head throbbed, and when she lifted her hand off of it she spotted a small amount of blood. “Oh, I think I’m going to be sick.” She muttered, holding her head with both of her hands and keeling over.
Victor leapt to his feet fluidly and gently pulled her into his arms, rushing her into the bathroom. He set her gracefully near the toilet and she wretched into it. Nothing came out, she was just sick from all of the pain and confusion. Victor put his hand on her shoulder and rubbed his thumb over it, soothing her as if he was an older brother figure. She didn’t flinch, she didn’t move. She fluttered her eyes shut and dropped herself into Victor’s arms, her head slipping onto his leg and her hands falling over him.
He took a towel and wiped off her mouth, even though nothing had come out of her mouth, and gently set his hand on her arm. He moved the hair out of her face and stoked her arm, whispering soothing words into her ears.
She fell asleep on him, exhaustion and heartache wearing her down, and drifted off into a whole other world.

Jules was there. Standing above Skye and staring down at her. He looked worried and nervous about something but she couldn’t figure out what. She looked around the environment, strolling her eyes around everything, taking it all in.
They were in a field, flowers blossoming from the ground along with sorts of weeds. The sky above them was a light grey and the clouds covered everything. She could smell the flowers beautiful fragrance and she wanted to take a long sniff of them. Two hands gently gripped her shoulders and she spun around to look up at Jules. He looked almost ill. “What’s wrong, Jules? Is everything alright?” She croaked, her voice scratchy and unclear. She feared something too, only, she couldn’t figure out what.
He shut his eyes for a second and looked straight ahead of them. “He’s looking for you,” he whispered, a cold fear caked within his beautiful voice.
It scared her even more to hear the worry in his voice. She had never felt so unsafe, so insecure and sure that something awful was going to happen. “Who, Jules,” she asked, “who’s looking for me?”
Jules frowned and took a step forward, releasing his grip on her shoulders. “He is,” he shook his head. “The dark man.”
She stood up and cuddled herself into him, his arms limply dropping around her shoulders. “Who is he? Is it Bryan? Johnny?” But wait, he didn’t even know about Johnny. And why would he be calling either of them “the dark man”? Did he think that telling her the name of the man that he was talking about would frighten her? She was already frightened enough.
“He’s—,” but something stopped him from continuing, no not something—someone.
Skye swirled around and out from under his arm and searched for the source. It was a man—dressed in all black with a hood—and shaded by the dark sky that suddenly gloomed ahead. She shrieked when she saw that he had stabbed Jules with a long silver dagger and covered her mouth in absolute shock. She couldn’t tell who the man was but she figured that it had to be either Johnny or Bryan. She didn’t care about who it was though, she only cared about Jules.
Blood was dripping from his mouth and he was gagging on it, his hand clutching his chest. He doubled over and dropped to his knees, gagging and coughing up blood. The hooded being yanked the dagger from Jules’ body and walked around to his front, kicking him so that he fell back the other way.
Skye shrieked again and her heart slammed against her chest. She could feel her pulse in her neck thumping and her eyes went blurry with tears. She dropped to her knees, too weak to stand any longer, and crawled over to Jules.
The man kicked her away and she stumbled backwards, letting out a cry of pain. The man growled and brought the bloody dagger down to her throat. She couldn’t see his eyes or his face very well; she could only hear his ragged breathing. She was sobbing, her stomach twisting up into painful knots and her heart slamming so hard that she figured it would explode.
Before the man could do anything more, Jules cried out, his voice wavering and ragged. “Don’t,” he urged. “Please don’t hurt her. Kill me, do whatever you want to me. Just don’t hurt her.” He pleaded, his head peering up at the hooded man. Blood still dripped out of his mouth and he tried to wipe it off but he keeled over, coughing.
The hooded figure whispered something under his breath and approached Jules, his knuckles white on the dagger in his hand.
Skye crawled over to Jules, trying to stay slightly clear of the man, and cried out for him. “No, please don’t kill him. Don’t hurt him, I—I—love him.” She stammered, clutching for Jules’ hand and intertwining their fingers.
The hooded man spat in disgust and yanked Jules up from his T-shirt, causing him to choke on his own blood. She was shrieking, impulsively hitting the man as if it was the best she could do. She pleaded with him and pleaded with him, but all too soon, he kicked her out of the way again and plunged the knife into Jules’ chest, twice.
He gagged and made a terrifying face, he was in pain and agony, waiting for death to carry him away. His body crumpled to the ground as the man released him, and she scrambled over to him, fighting the pain in her stomach. There was so much blood, so much of Jules’ blood. She cried and pressed her palm against his wounds to try to help, but it was no