Less than Perfect

12. Truth {part one}

Chapter Twelve

Truth

Part One

Waiting for the arrival of their friends, Jules and Skye walked down the pier. They shared silence between one another, neither bothering to talk to each other as they walked. Skye hated how strangely she felt. It was as if being around Jules, back in his safe company, was still not enough for her. In fact, she felt even more on edge around him. She knew that he was her safety net; but how long could she really stay away from Johnny? He had changed her in the past few days, and in no way was it for her own benefit.

Something made Jules stop beside her, his head tilting to the side as he examined her face. "Is something wrong, trouble? You're not acting like yourself."

She looked at him then, her gaze meeting his. "Something's very wrong," she muttered before thinking. She watched him carefully, wondering what he would do if she kissed him, and frowned when she thought of rough lips against hers—not Jules's. She hoped he hadn't heard her.

"What's going on with you? I mean, you've been acting strange the entire time I've known you. And I can tell that something has been bothering you and troubling you. Did someone hurt you, Skye?"

She flinched away, shaking her head. "No—no one hurt me Jules," she lied. Her tone was sharp and scratchy, guilt ridden, but she hoped he wouldn't notice. She needed him to believe her lie—again.

"You're lying," he said quietly. His eyes dared her to tell him the truth, to open up and finally get some help, but she knew she couldn't speak of the truth if she wanted to stay safe from Johnny's wrath. His threats were an example of what he'd do.

"Excuse me?" she gasped, faking offence.

"I can tell you're not being completely honest with me, Skye. The way you're looking at me right now...it shows it all. You're lying; someone hurt you, didn't they?" He looked sincerely worried for her, like there wasn't an amount of doubt in his mind that she really was lying to him, and it pained him.

"Please not now, Jules. They're going to be here soon," she told him, hesitating before averting her gaze and starting her walk back to the shore.

A hand reached out and stopped her, gently holding her in her tracks.

"Look," he spoke quietly, his words a calming melody in her ears. "I didn't mean to upset you. If you want to talk about it later, than that's okay. All I want is to see you clearly; I don't want to lose you, Skye."

"I'm not upset," she breathed. Her eyes lingered as she locked her gaze with his caring eyes, taking in the clean kindness about him. "I'd just rather not talk about it. I may lose you." She lowered her eyes, her long eyelashes hovering downward. She couldn't look at him, the face that looked distraught enough to make her cry.

She could see it now—she really was falling apart.

He sighed. Wrapping a strand of her hair around his finger, he stepped in closer and caressed her cheek. "You're never going to lose me, Skye. I'll be here—with you—as long as you want." There was such a deep sympathy that sang out through his words, transforming them into something beautiful.

She looked at him then, her crystal eyes peering into his soul. She was tempted to look away, afraid of how he would see her; she wondered if he would see right through every façade and mask she hid behind—the only things keeping her alive.