I smiled as we walked to our next class because somehow it had been a whole period. We had lunch in about an hour and we both have our electives right now.
"Bye bye, love." Skylar said, once I led her to the theatre room. I waved a smile on my face at how amazing she was.
Not was, is.
I rub my wrist, still feeling my skin tingle at the way she brushed her lips against it.
I don't let anyone touch my cuts or even usually even touch me unless they were family.
But Skylar is different.
I like that about her. I don't understand how her mind works though.
How do you tell a broken thing you love it? Or how do you even come to love a broken thing?
I will never know but all I know is that Skylar is different.
A good type of different,