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My Definition of Perfect

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I walked out of the school and into the cold January rain; looking at my phone earlier I saw that it was 34 degrees. The rain stung as it pelted into my skin, leaving a slight buring feeling on my face and arms. I heard them calling my name and ignored it -- the assistant principal, my friends. They didn't understand and there was no way they were going to. How could they understand?

I could see them understanding the whole in my chest where my heart should be and the gut-wrenching feeling in my stomach if my pain had been caused by the everyday high school drama -- backstabbing friends, cheating boyfriends, bad grades, that one enemy that everyone has in high school.

Nope, they couldn't understand. They don't even understand why I'd be in pain, hell, I hardly do. My life is perfect -- dating the guy of my dreams, my car is perfect for me, my friends have never been better, my grades are amazing.

I was at the road. I didn't even look to see if a car was coming; let them hit me. I walked across the road and up the hill to the parking lot. Keys out of my pocket, truck unlocked, I jumped in the black Chevy and slammed the door behind me. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.

I miss the days when my biggest problem were tests and projects and cleaning my room and what I'd do if one of my football boys got hurt. Now Max's arm is broken, Bradley has a concussion and I haven't seen him in two weeks, I'm going to fail the ACT this Saturday, I'm not finished with the biggest project I'll have all year, and Jacob and his little kindergarten friends trashed my room; on top of that, my mom might have cancer, rumors about Max breaking up with me are circulating around the school, my best guy friend was just cheated on, two of my best friends are in the biggest fight ever, and my migrains won't go away and I'm losing sleep, despite the medicines.

I sighed. So much crap. Normall when there's so much on my plate, I just make a list and tackle it one-by-one. There's no list maker in the world that could help me.

A loud, sudden knock on the passenger door shook me out of my revere and made me jump so high that my knees hit the steering wheel. I looked to my right and saw Max standing there, soaking wet.

"What?" I asked through the window.

He opened the door and sat down. He turned his head and looked at me with his soft blue eyes, his dark brown hair dripping.

I groaned and laid my head back again. "What?" I repeated.

"I love you."

"Sure you do."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Aren't you breaking up with me soon? Sally seems to be all over you, even if, if I'm recalling correctly, you broke up with her for me two years ago? Everyone is talking about it."

"Just like everyone was talking about you dumping me for Bradley last year? Don't think I don't remember how in love with him you were freshman year."

"I was fourteen, he was a hot junior football player. And then I fell in love with you, thank you very much," I snapped. I sighed. "Nothing happened. You know that. Freshman year you dumped Sally for me after I stopped liking Bradley, me and Bradley became best friends sophomore year, and this year we all hang out all the time together when he's not busy with college."

"And nothing is happening now with Sally. The last time I even thought about her was when I had to break up with her."

"You didn't have to."

"Why would I pass up the chance to be with you?" I heard his adorable smile.

"Because you were in a terrible relationship and you overheard me say that I love you."

"Overheard nothing. You told me."

"You overheard me sleep-talking. I didn't know what I was saying, just that I love you." He didn't respond, because he knew that that's how it happened, so I spoke up again. "Why did you follow me out here?"

"Because I love you."

"You keep saying that..." I leaned forward and opened my eyes. Max was smiling.

"I keep meanin' it."

"I don't see why you do."

"For one, you're the most beautiful and unique girl I know. But second, and most important, I've never seen myself growing old with anyone else."

"You're just a romantic."

He laughed. "Liv, you're the romantic, I'm the realist."

I half-smiled. "Nah, I'm makin' a romantic outta you."

"And I'm makin' a country girl outta you. Listen to that accent!" He whoo-ed and praised Jesus like he always did to celebrate in front of me, especially since I love how country he is.

I actually laughed. "I've had my country accent for a while, my accent is just more Cajun then you hear."

"So why are you out here?"

I stopped laughing. "Because. There's just so much going on..." I sighed.

"Your mom? The ACT?"

"Both. And more."

"You're gunna make a great score on the ACT, it's your second time taking it and you did great the first time. Your momma is gunna be okay, no matter what happens; if she even has cancer, which I doubt she does, it's very curable at this stage. What else can I fix?"

"Kill my little brother?"

"I'll do it tonight. Even though I love that kid. Next?"

I leaned my head back and smiled. "How'd I get a guy like you?"

"Geography class."

I punched him without looking; though I meant to get his arm, I'm pretty sure I hit his hard stomach.

"So you gunna be okay? Or do I need to kill a few more people first?"

I thought about it. "I guess I'll be fine." For now, I added on in my head. Because this, sitting in my truck with my Max, that was my definition of perfect, and, for right now, everything was just fine.



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