Chapter 1 {layla's pov}

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"I miss the lips that made me fly." The familiar lyric from Mayday Parade, a band that sang sad rock ballads, seemed so much more relevant now then they did a year ago. Sadly for your gossip thirsty self, I have nothing bad to say about Jacob Michael Whitesides. In fact, if I could do anything right now, it would be to get drunk with Jacob and spill out the thoughts that have been flooding my mind for months, and remind him that I still think he puts the stars in the sky, and I love the why he gets crinkles on the sides of his eyes when he laughs. Sadly, I couldn't tell Jacob any of these things, because I don't know where he is and have no intention of finding out. I had vowed to go on with my life, finishing college and moving off to New York City, the only place that feels like home even though it's far from where I was born, but sadly, things are easier said then done.

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