I smiled as we walked to our next class because somehow it had been a whole period. We had lunch in about an hour and we both have our electives right now.
"Bye bye, love." Skylar said, once I led her to the theatre room. I waved a smile on my face at how amazing she was.
Not was, is.
I rub my wrist, still feeling my skin tingle at the way she brushed her lips against it.
I don't let anyone touch my cuts or even usually even touch me unless they were family.
But Skylar is different.
I like that about her. I don't understand how her mind works though.
How do you tell a broken thing you love it? Or how do you even come to love a broken thing?
I will never know but all I know is that Skylar is different.
A good type of different,
YOU ARE READING
No words
General FictionWords are stuck deep down in her throat. Heart. Soul. No one gives her attention because they all brush her off as the silent girl. The one too dumb to speak.
