Always

42| Perfect

"You want to talk about it?—The dream I mean," Greyson asks.

He filled me in on most of what happened after my attack already. It's been about half an hour since I've woken up from my nightmare. I've been talking about random things in hopes of steering away from the matter at hand but he probably knows that.

I can tell the news about the anorexia has him walking on eggshells around me. That's exactly what I didn't want; to be treated like a fragile egg.

"It was nothing, really," I shrug it off.

"Are you sure?"

"Greyson Reynolds? Are you worried about me?" I smile mischievously.

I expect him to banter with me, because that's what we always do. He'd normally smirk or laugh and completely deny my claims and we'd go back and forth until the other admits defeat.

But he doesn't, there isn't a trace of amusement in his features. I can barely see them in the dimly lit room despite the fact that I'm sitting in my vanity chair and he's on the floor leaning against my bed.

Even so, I know his entire face down to the very last detail like the back of my hand even his clenching jaw. He leans his head back onto my bed staring up at the ceiling probably deep in thought because he takes a while to answer.

"Yeah. I am."

It catches me off guard for a second but I know he's just messing with me. "I knew you had a thing for me. You're not really my type, but I'm okay. You don't have to worr"—

—"I do have a thing for you actually," he interrupts. "I've had a thing for you longer than you know. Probably longer than I even know. But that's exactly how I know that you're trying to deflect from something important."

"Why are you being so serious right now? I said I'm good."

"Are you? Because you didn't look okay when you woke up a while ago. And you definitely didn't look okay at dinner," he shrugs.

"Can you relax? This is exactly why I didn't say anything to you, or to anyone!" I raise my voice slightly. "You're going to start treating me like some helpless child and I'm not. If I say that I'm fine then I am!" I huff.

"You're not helpless," he sighs.

He takes a stand and walks over. He's towering me but I sense no imperiousness. His cool hands cup my face caressing my cheek with his thumbs.

"You're a strong independent woman. A little stubborn, but not helpless. I'm not going to force you to talk to me or anyone about anything. I just want you to be honest with yourself."

I sigh leaning into his touch. "I am being honest with myself. I'm fi"—. Before I even finish my sentence I feel my voice crack as he wipes the tears from my eyes that I didn't even know welled up.

"Then why are you crying?"

"I-I don't know. I'm not sad I don't feel sad. I feel fine I- I feel—.

"Come here," he says pulling me into a hug and that's all it takes.

I sob violently into his chest letting everything out. His shirt is clutched tightly in my fist like my life depends on it and he just holds me there, running his hand through my hair.

I cry and I cry until my throat doesn't allow me to anymore. I'm not sure if it's been seconds or minutes or hours. I can no longer feel my legs and my throat's dry but I don't move. I simply continue to let my tears drain down my face and the snot to be absorbed by his black cotton shirt that smells like him.

What's wrong with me?

For so long I've tried to change the girl in the mirror. I woke up everyday and hated what I saw. So, I spent years of my life desperately rebuilding and fixing it.

I starved myself just to be perfect. I hurt the people I loved just to be perfect. I nearly died trying to be perfect. I sat in a hospital bed connected to tubes and wires, just to be perfect. I went through months of rehab and palate shifts, just to be perfect. I tore myself down mentally and physically, just to be perfect.

So why don't I feel perfect?

"What's wrong with me?" I whisper against his shirt.

There's a long silence that causes me to pull away and look up at him through my wet eyelashes. His features were contorted into those of regret and guilt. The deep greens eyes that I've come to love stare down at me, glassy with tears but filled with compunction. I stood there speechless, still clutching his shirt in fear that if I let go now, he'll be gone for good.

"I'm what's wrong with you, Allison."

A/N:

Anddddd we're back!!
I know it's been a while, I apologize :'(
I've been busy working on other projects that I know you'll love. (wink wink)

I'm not exactly sure how many chapters this book will contain, but we're definitely in the last leg of the race  :(

I hope you all had an amazing summer. I'd love to hear about it in the comments :)

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