That Broken Boy |♔| Kian Lawley

[10]

Remember, in order for Ryley to graduate, she has to spend the next month in school which also means prom.

Prominent collarbones forced their appearance to be known by anyone who took a tiny glimpse at her limp, clearly underweight body. Her proxy grin flashed alluringly to my reflection in the mirror as she realized I have been standing quite a distance away from where she was posing, one hand on her hip as I saw her hipbones sticking out from the waist of her black, flowing lace skater dress that could make anyone draw to her like a magnet. Although she looked like the most gorgeous, confident girl on the outside with her dazzling eyes and perfect figure, I knew better than to actually believe her broken and imitated smile because I have her real one sewn into my mind. Everyone admires her emerald eyes or skinny frame, even though she would never see herself the way others do.

Unique personality is what separates her from the stereotypes in our grade, mostly because she has a keen sense that she developed ever since being dispatched from the hospital. I think the near death experience knocked some sense into her, because she has started eating again--though her portions are small, I'm insanely proud of her for taking the leap--and has been clean for a few months.

Without realizing, my smile had grown wider by the second and my feet were working together before they stopped directly behind Ryley, and by instinct, I wrapped my arms around her torso, tracing her hipbones briskly with my index fingers. At first, she was startled by the sudden gesture, still getting spooked easily which I couldn't blame her, but once she became conscious of my presence, she relaxed under my grasp.

"You look adorable, I've never really seen you dress up so much."

She blushed lightly, but I didn't acknowledge the act because she despises when people point out unnecessary details about her, "Thank you, kiwi. You don't look too bad yourself, although," she lifted her index finger, middle finger and ring finger before licking them and attempting to whip a few strands of my hair into place, "There you go, handsome as ever, boo." Ryley winked at me, strutting off to her bed and sitting down on the edge, bursting into laughter in the process. Her chuckles were contagious and I found myself giggling along quietly with her, until we were finally able to calm down.

"I love our friendship," she started, "We can always joke about stuff, or rant to each other and it's always okay. I swear, some people think we're a couple sometimes with the looks they give us on the street when we hold hands or something, it's perfect."

"Almost as perfect as you," I whispered in a hushed monotone, too quiet for Ryley to hear my statement.

"Can you get my solid red jewel tone hair barrette on the bureau? I want my bow to match yours," she chimed as I rolled my eyes, but nonetheless gripped onto the soft laced fabric bow and handed it to her.

Once she secured the bow in her hair--clipped in the back of her head to hold back the waterfall braid even tighter--she stood up from the bed and gripped onto my shoulder for support as she stumbled a bit, "Sorry, still get a teensy bit dizzy when standing up too fast."

I nodded reassuringly, "It's okay, I understand. Hey, but you're almost fully recovered. You don't have to go to therapy anymore," I beamed, observing her facial expressions while realization hit her.

"I know, I'm so so so so happy. The lady who was 'teaching' me how to speak again, she was a bit irritating, like she would get frustrated if I forgot one word in a sentence. God forbid, she almost killed me with her glares at times."