Because Who Could Love A Broken Girl? ✔️

Who Could Love A Little Thank You

Skylar's P.O.V.

French class was... Well... It was hell.

The teacher was monotonous and boring, the students were quiet and lazy, and the words were... In French.

That's one of the many downsides of starting a foreign language class so late in the school year.

Everyone's practically fluent in the language while I'm still struggling with a simple greeting.

I miss Grayson. I miss Spencer, and Carter and Isaac. I miss Elliot.

I miss art.

But I couldn't go back there, not even if I wanted to. I made a commitment to French, and I have no choice but to stick with it.

Thankfully, there's only about five minutes left of school. Then I'll get to see my friends and Gray again.

I haven't received any texts or calls all period, which is pretty strange when you have a boyfriend like mine.

He all but forced me to text him the minute I found a misplaced hair on my head.

And now he's completely silent on the other end of the line.

Oh well.

Time ticks by, met with the babbling nonsense from Monsieur Petit. Of course there's still the occasional whisper or 'secretive' glance toward me, but I've managed to ignore it for the most part.

Although, I could have sworn that two of the girls were talking about me in French. They would whisper to each other, then look at me with those stupid, pitiful frowns.

Thankfully, the bell finally rings, and we're excused from the class.

Instantly, I shoot up from my seat and grab my binder, pushing my way through the mob of students, also eager to escape Eastwood High.

I let out a sigh of relief as I finally break free from the crowd, shifting to a sprint towards art class.

It's only been about an hour, but I miss Grayson much more than I had originally assumed that I would.

I'm becoming just like him.

After a few moments of running through mobs of students, all nearly as eager as I am to get out of here, I notice someone running in my direction.

I smile as I work the figure out to be Grayson.

His pace gradually slows to a stop as he spots me, a smile of his own taking up his face.

As I reach no more than three feet away, he holds his arms open, gladly accepting me as I jump into his chest.

He catches me instantly without the slightest step or stagger backwards, giving me a little twirl before returning my feet to their rightful place on the floor.

Even when I'm finally on solid ground, he doesn't loosen his hold on me. If anything, it tightens.

His face is shoved into the crook of my neck, leaving tiny, quick kisses all around the nape.

I giggle softly at the tickling sensations they leave to run through my body, clashing with the tingles I receive from being in Grayson's arms.

He leans back slightly and grins before slamming his lips down on mine.

I smile into the kiss, sliding one hand up to rest on his cheek.

Now, I've never really been one for PDA, but at this point, I can hardly even think long enough to process the fact that I'm currently making out with my boyfriend in the middle of the hallway.