Walk the Edge

The boy everyone sees but nobody knows is with the girl who everybody knows but nobody sees.

This is heartbreaking and consuming and addictive. It’s terrifying and peaceful, crazy and serene. It’s a million things in one brief moment and it’s something I don’t understand and never want to live without.

I’m searching for magic – not the Christmas morning type, but the type of magic that can be found by being courageous, being the girl who takes chances, being the girl who will dance. I want to be the girl who is seen.

For once in my life, I'd love to be myself around everyone else and be accepted for who I am instead of staying silent for fear of people mocking me.

There's a ton you can learn about a person from how they deal with the absence of sound.

I'm in love with you. This isn't a memory, but a promise, do you hear me?

Hey, Breanna.” I glance over my shoulder. “Yes?” “Be safe.” Those are two enticing and lovely words. “I will be. I have you protecting me, right?” Maybe I’m misreading Razor, but his eyes travel my body like he might toss me onto the bed of the truck and kiss me in a way I’ve never been kissed before. “Don’t worry. I completely have your back.

Because somebody out there fucking loves you and doesn't deserve the type of hurt you jumping would have caused. Killing yourself doesn't solve your problems. It just hands them to somebody else.

I promise I’ll take care of you,” he whispers. “You’re safe with me.

I’ll tell you what … if you want wild – if you want a kiss that breaks the rules, I’ll give you one, but not here, not now.” I think my heart exploded. Razor of the Reign of Terror – the guy all the girls have dreams about for years – has offered to kiss me. “When?” “When I say.” His lips edge up, sending a thrill through my bloodstream. “If you have the nerve.

It's the danger that makes it fun.

I need you to make a choice, Breanna. If you want things to stay as they are between us, then I need you to walk out that door. Otherwise, it’s going to change.” She tilts her head as if she’s as lost in emotion as I am. “It’s already changed.” A part of me mourns for her. She’s the firefly I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep alive, but I shove those thoughts away. Breanna is here, and she isn’t leaving, which means she’s mine.

Most people avoid me, easily leaving two feet between us, and here is this little warrior trudging into battle without armor. Terrified I’ll break her, I weave my arms around her and hug her back. My eyes shut when she settles furthering into me. I rest my cheek on her head and simply breathe.

Yeah, I know. I’m supposed to be this twenty-first-century woman and obsessed with a man desiring me for my massive intellect. I am woman, hear me roar, and all that stuff, but for once, it would have been really freaking awesome to be the girl in the pretty dress left alone with the gorgeous bad boy who wants to kiss me.

Not sure how this whole social media thing is supposed to be fun. It's like being back in elementary school and waiting to be picked for kickball.

If you want out of the box you hide in, then you need to crack open the flaps and bask in some sunlight.

I love you', I tell her. 'I don't face fancy shit inside me or other pretty words to say, but know that, no matter what, I love you.

She's my girl now and I'll do anything for her at any time. I'm in love with her.

Don't let your fears create walls or define you.

I'm Breanna Miller. The smart girl. The quiet girl. The one who belongs to a large family. I'm Breanna Miller. Number 5 in the line of 9. The girl who everybody knows and nobody sees. I'm Breanna Miller. A girl who went to Shamrock's and ended up falling in love with Thomas Turner-Razor of the Reign of Terror. The boy who everyone sees and nobody knows. I've been with him for months. I'm in love with him and I don't care who knows.

I heard your girl's smart," Pigpen pipes up to ease the building tension. "In fact, I've heard she's fucking Einstein, which brings up the question how the hell she ended up with you.

There are lies in life we accept. Whether it's for the sake of ignorance, bliss, or, in my case, survival, we all make our choices.

Everyone says the same thing: Breanna's smart, she's quiet. On the inside. I'm not at all quiet. Most of the time, I'm screaming.

…as I attempt to release her, she squeezes my hand and offers a shy smile. Something within me shifts. No, I don’t get nervous, but Brenna transports me to all sorts of new places. It’s not her physical proximity getting to me, it’s the fact that she makes me feel.

I'm not quiet because I'm not proving a point. I'm quit because I gave no idea what to say to the emotions tearing me up.

You don’t have to worry about me pressuring you. You say stop, we stop.” That sums it up without me having to over explain. “But I’ll never complain if you cop a feel above or below.

He’s gorgeous and dangerous. Like the fallen angel Lucifer must have been. This could be the equivalent of a handshake with the devil.

I've hated Snowflake for so long," she says. "But then I met you. And you're the person entire town has trashed, a person belonging to the group I've been raised to believe is evil, and you're the only person who is able to make me feel as if every part of me is beautiful." She is beautiful. Inside and out. My fingers tunnel into her hair again, but this time, I gently knot them in. My heart beats hard, and I open my mouth, hoping that doing so will force the right words. That I can explain being near her makes everything that's impossible about me seem possible. But the words become lodged in my throat and silence paralyzes my tongue. Breanna blinks and the hope that had been on her face disappears as she misreads my hesitation. Her hold on me loosens and she ducks her head. "Don't listen to me. I say too much around you. I was being stupid I..." More words meant to wipe away her admission spill from her mouth, but I'm not listening. My grip on her hair tightens, I lower my lips to hers and I kiss Breanna Miller.

I'd like to somehow find the courage to be on the outside who I am on the inside.

I wanted to go away. It took me not listening for them to listen to me. Sometimes people don't listen until bad things happen. They realize then they should have listen instead of talked. Sometimes people are too busy hearing what they want to hear, seeing what they want to see, they don't care what's real only what they think is real.