Less than Perfect, S. J. Evans [classic literature books txt] 📗

moments before he’d left her. She gasped for air, clutching the muddy grass with her shaky hands, grasping for something solid and real. She avoided Victor’s gaze as she bit her lip, hard

, and set her head on her knees.
Struggling to find her voice, she said, “Are you sure you want to get wrapped up in this? It’s really nothing you should have to worry about. You’d probably be better off not knowing.”
He shifted, kneeling in front of her, wiping a stray tear off her face. She gasped—silently—as his cool skin brushed hers, pulling her to look him in the eyes by an invisible energy. “Hey,” he whispered, gaze so steady, so deep, so intimate

, Skye couldn’t decide whether or not to look away. “I want

to know. I want

to help.” He smiled then, a warm, inviting smile, untangling the knots in her stomach.
What’s happening to me?

she thought, bewildered, cringing at the way her body was reacting to not only his touch, but his smile, his eyes, his—kindness

. She couldn’t grapple with the force of energy that sent coursing through her veins by one mere look in his direction. Nor could she grapple with the pull in her heart that was telling her to stay clear of getting any bit closer to him. There was something about the man kneeling before her; something didn’t quite add up in her mind.
Before she could stop herself, she blurted, “Why are you still here?” And thinking she needed to correct herself, clear her question up a bit, she added, “I mean—you could’ve gone home. You didn’t have to spend all this time here, with us

.” She hoped the urgency in her voice wouldn’t set him off; hoped that he wouldn’t take it the wrong way; hoped that she hadn’t made a huge mistake asking him and avoiding the previous conversation.
After a moment deep in thought, he cleared his throat and said, “Because I don’t really have all that much of a home to go back to. Usually I either stay with Jules, or, when he’s gone, at Rachel’s. The only other place I have to work with is in an apartment occupied with people I’d rather not spend amounts of time with, no matter how long or short. And after everything that had happened to you—all the hurt you endured—I guess I just didn’t have the courage to leave you, to leave and go back to a place I knew I wouldn’t be wanted. Part of me hoped I could be of worth—or help

—if I stayed at your place. So here I am, sure that I must’ve made the right choice somewhere along the way.” Watching her carefully, he moved to sit beside her, legs stretched out, shoulder mere inches away from hers.
She had to blink a few times, straining to think straight at what he’d told her. She knew that Victor’s home life hadn’t been all that great, but having actually heard

the grief behind his words, she felt incredibly worse about ever having brought the subject up. Maybe she’d been curious, and slightly frazzled about why he’d stayed so long, but now she only regretted thinking that way. Victor really was a good guy, not

the bad guy she was trying to write him off as.
Shamefully, she turned her face away, mumbling, “I’m sorry, Vic. I—I didn’t know.” Her mind blurred with cloudy images of Jules, far away, just out of reach, trembling with sorrow. She couldn’t handle the pain that prodded at her heart, raw and icy, taking all of her pent-up anger at Jules’s absence and hammering it out of her system. She couldn’t stay angry at him, no matter how hard she tried, because the only thing she wanted to feel was him

—all of him—back in her heart; the pure, lively energy of his love breaking apart all of her heartache. Blinking away what she thought was a tear on her lash, she sniffed, realizing the moment she looked up and felt water touch her forehead that it wasn’t a tear in the first place. It was a raindrop.
Bowing her head, she let out a small whimper and curled into herself, yearning for warmth in the cold rain—yearning for Jules’s

warmth around her. She needed him. She needed him just as much as she had before, if not more, and she was tired of searching to no avail, waiting desperately for him to show up when he never did. Right then, in that exact moment—curled up on the ground, beside an intriguing new friend, fumbling through her thoughts—she finally figured out what she had to do, where she had to go.
If there was only one place left that Jules could be, it would be at the waterfall in the woods. The place they first became something more than just friends. The same place they’d almost had their first kiss at.
Somewhere deep down in her heart, she felt it; felt the way he’d looked at her underwater, felt the pull of his presence there, so loud, so oppressing

, it was almost too much to bear. Jules wasn’t as far as she thought he was, and by an incredible, unexplainable force of energy, he was calling for her.
Bolting upright, she stumbled to find her footing on the wet ground, managing a rushed, “I know where he is, Vic. I know where Jules is.”
He hopped to his feet, brushing his jeans off. “You do?” He raised a brow at her questioningly, surprise imprinted on his expression.
She managed a small smile, feeling the pull of Jules’s whereabouts in her heart, feeling an uncontrollable surge of electric course throughout her entire body. Whether Jules wanted to see her or not, he was going to. She couldn’t bear to be apart from him any longer, and she only hoped he felt the same way—despite what he’d told her up in her room.
“I do.” She grabbed his hand, tugging him forward. “Follow me.”

WITH HIS BACK pressed against the wall, Johnny watched as Rachel finally began stirring from her deep, heavy slumber. A smile crept up his lips, chills of anticipation crawling along his spine. The sooner Rachel knows how things are going to work, the sooner the plan will come into play

, he told himself. And the sooner I’ll have my beautiful Princess back in my hands.

Rachel’s eyes fluttered open sleepily, her drooping head rolling up a little.
“So glad you’ve finally decided to grace me with your waking presence,” he drawled, watching her carefully as she came into consciousness. The moment she looked at him, her eyes widened and she sucked in a breath, ready to scream. He noticed, and quickly overpowered her, clamping a hand over her mouth. “Don’t scream,” he whispered against her ear. “It will only bring you pain, and plenty of it. Understood?”
He waited as she nodded her head, stiffly, before removing his hand and moving to stand in front of her. “Good girl,” he crooned, a sick grin slithering upon his face. “I’d hate to have to hurt such a young, pretty face like yours.” He brought his face close to hers, stroking her hair out of her face, fingers brushing her skin in a way he was sure made her uncomfortable.
“What are you going to do with me?” she whimpered, shrinking away from him. When he looked at her, he saw the fear in her eyes, mixed with loathing and disgust. It pulled at his insides, reminding him of the way Skye looked at him, and made him even more anxious to see her. My Princess

, he thought to himself. She’s really going to be mine—all mine. Soon.

“Nothing.” He chuckled, pulling her chin up so that she couldn’t look at anything but him. “If you cooperate, that is. But if you even think

about not cooperating—well, let me just say that you’ll regret it. Not only for your sake, but Skye’s too. One wrong move and she suffers.” He watched her intently, dark eyes burning into her soul. He could feel the tension coming off of her in waves, fear and disgust towards him eminent in it.
Her breath caught in her throat and she shied away from him, trying in vain to keep the distance between the two of them further than it was. “Don’t hurt her,” she croaked. “Do whatever you want with me, but please

—don’t hurt her. She’s been through enough.”
“You’re a sweet girl, Miss Harper,” he said, voice low as he drew closer to her, their faces mere inches apart. “But that kind of sacrifice won’t work in this situation. Because in this situation, you’re either going to help me lure Skye here, safely

—or I kill everyone who gets in my way, including you. Okay, dear?”
Shuddering under their close proximity, she carefully tugged on her bound hands and grimaced at how pointless it was. Avoiding Johnny’s gaze, she closed her eyes, whispering, “Why are you doing this?”
“Why am I doing this

?” he repeated thoughtfully, scrunching his face in concentration for a quick moment. In the next, he pulled Rachel’s face in his hands aggressively, rubbed his thumbs over her cheeks roughly, shook his head, and growled, “Because she belongs to me! She’s always

belonged to me. And no matter what I have to do, or who I have to go through, I’m going to take her back.” He lowered his voice. “She’s supposed to be with me, no one else. I own

her.”
Shaking her head, Rachel opened her eyes, stared him down. “She doesn’t belong with you.” She pulled on her bonds again, fidgeting under his cold glare. “You—you don’t deserve her.”
Infuriated, he clenched his jaw, gave her hair a painful tug, and pinned her by the shoulders, haggard breath bathing her face as he came in contact with it. “Oh but I think I do,” he whispered harshly. “In fact—I deserve her more than that delinquent Julian. He’s not good for her; but I am. I can give her everything she could ever wish for. I can make everything better.”
“No, Johnny,” she snapped. “You’re wrong. You

are the one who’s not good for her, because all you ever do is hurt

her. And if you really wanted to make everything better—you wouldn’t be doing this. You wouldn’t be trying to take her away from everything and everyone she cares about. Instead, you’d let me go, leave her alone, and turn yourself in. That’s when you’ll be giving her everything she could ever wish for.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He squeezed her shoulders, the pressure of his fingers bruising her. “Skye belongs with me

. I

can make her happy.”
“Happy

?” she scoffed, spitting at him. “She’ll never be happy with you, Johnny! You’re nothing but sick, repulsive filth! And you can go to h—”
His hand silenced her, striking her face with incredible force, driving it to the side. He stepped back, chest heaving, hand shaking; his rage had passed its boiling point. He couldn’t look away from her; surprised by her sudden outburst, he stared at her, trying to figure out what he would do to her next. He didn’t want to hurt her again, but he wasn’t about to let her get away with her disrespect either.
“You shouldn’t have said that, Rachel,” he sneered, stepping towards