Chasing Butterflies (5 page)

Gabriel

I lift the beer bottle to my lips and tip it back, letting the coolness slide straight down my throat. I place the empty bottle back on the bar and nod towards Jonny.

“Same again?” he asks, clearing the bottle away.

I nod. “Yeah, why not?”

He smirks. “What brings you in here anyway?”

“I have a date,” I tell him, glancing at the door to see if she’s arrived yet.

“With who?”

I turn back to him as he places a new bottle of beer in front of me. “Ella Jones.”

Jonny whistles. “Really? Wow.”

I raise my eyebrows at him. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

“I’m not surprised,” he says as he wipes the mahogany bar down with a damp cloth. “It’s just that everyone wanted a piece of Ella Jones at school. Maybe I’m just a little jealous.”

I shake my head. There’s really no need to be jealous. I don’t even know why I’m here. “She’s late anyway. Maybe she’s going to stand me up.”

Jonny laughs but then nods towards the door. “She just got here and she’s wearing a dress that doesn’t exactly leave much to the imagination.”

I grip my beer and twirl around, letting my eyes scan over Ella’s dress. Jonny was right…it’s basically see-through. Her short black hair is cropped at the nape of her neck with pieces of it falling over her eyes. She has tanned skin that is evident through the black mesh of the dress and a black bra that doesn’t hide her cleavage in the least. I can also see that she’s wearing lacy black knickers.

She sees me and lifts her hand in a wave, then starts to walk towards me.

“She wants cock,” Jonny says. “And I’m guessing she wants it pretty bad. You lucky bastard.”

If only you knew
. I smirk and watch the way her hips sway as she glides to my side.

“Hey,” she says, pressing her soft lips against my cheek. “Sorry I’m late.”

“S’alright,” I say.

She lifts herself up onto the barstool next to mine and leans forward on her elbow, almost shoving her breasts in my face.

“What do you want to drink?” I ask while Jonny practically drools over her.

“Martini, please,” she replies.

“Shaken or stirred?” asks Jonny as he smirks at her.

“Shaken,” she says, narrowing her eyes at him.

He grins at me before turning around to make her drink. I watch her as she watches him pouring from the bottle.

Ella Jones has always been one of
those
girls. The popular ones that got exactly what they wanted, when they wanted it. She’s undeniably hot but she knows it, and that’s a little bit of a turn-off for me.

“There you go,” says Jonny, sliding the drink to her.

“Thanks,” she says with a wink.

“So,” I breathe, clinking my bottle against her glass, “I guess we should toast to our date.”

Ella smiles. She has nice teeth.

“To our date,” she says. She has one of those sultry voices that would sound good coming down a phone line. The sort of line that men never want their wives to know they’ve been calling.

“Tell me what you’ve been up to since school,” I say.

She grins and looks excited as she puts her glass down and places her hand on my thigh.

“I went to college,” she tells me, “and studied business and accounting. I also went to lots of parties and figured out how to make men happy.”

Jonny raises his eyebrows at me from behind her and I subtly shake my head to let him know he needs to back off. I don’t want him encouraging this. I don’t need any help in making mistakes these days.

I’ve kind of tuned Ella out. She’s basically chewed my ear off for over an hour and I’m a little bored of hearing about the galas she and her family go to and how her Daddy does more than enough for charity, putting other people to shame. I’m tired of listening to the stories about her boyfriends and how awful they were for her…how they didn’t look after her or make her feel like they wanted her. I feel like telling her I wouldn’t be much better.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” she whispers into my ear. She presses herself against me, forcing her breasts and hip up against my arm.

“Where do you want to go?” I ask.

She raises her eyebrow. “To yours?”

I shake my head and pull some money out of my wallet to pay for all of our drinks. Jonny grins at me as he takes it. “I don’t have a place. I’m living back home for a while.”

“Oh,” she says, pursing her lips. “Let’s just go for a drive then.”

“I can’t drive,” I say, “you’ve just watched me drink three bottles of beer.”

She hiccups and then giggles. “Oh, yeah. I did.”

I smirk and tug on her arm. “Come on. Let’s find a taxi and I’ll take you home.”

She sighs but lets me lead her across the sticky floor. “I didn’t have anything to eat,” she tells me. “Those four martinis just went straight to my head.”

“I thought as much.”

She laughs and links her arm through mine, letting her other arm swing by her side. “So where have you been, Gabriel?”

“What do you mean?” I pull open the old wooden door that squeaks and whines and guide her outside.

“You disappeared for four years after school. Where did you go?”

I feel my shoulders stiffen. “Nowhere.”

“Oh, come on…” She giggles, lifting her light brown eyes up to mine. “You had to have been somewhere.”

“I just wanted to get out of this stupid little village,” I tell her, hoping she’ll shut up about it. “I was young. I thought anywhere else was better than here.”

She doesn’t shut up about it. “I bet it was, but that doesn’t explain why you came back. And no one dares to run from this village when they’re only sixteen.”

I roll my eyes and then scan across the car park, looking for a place where we can sit and wait for a taxi. “Well, I did.”

She flicks away a short piece of hair that keeps hanging over her eyes. “And you’re back for good?”

“I guess so.”

“Was it London?”

I frown and direct her towards a low brick wall where we can wait for the taxi. “No.”

“That’s where I’m going,” she tells me confidently as she sits down on the wall. “I’m going to get a job at a top firm on Canary Wharf, and I’m going to earn a shitload of money.”

“I’m sure you will,” I say for no other reason than to appease her.

“So…” She hiccups again. “You won’t tell me where you went, but why did you come ba—?”

I step forward, placing myself in between her thighs, and cup my hands around her face. Her wide, shocked eyes flick to mine for a second, and then I dip my head and crush my lips to hers. She groans into my mouth and I feel her tongue dipping in, searching, seeking mine out until she finds it, and then her hands are under my shirt, brushing across my nipples.

“Oh, Gabriel,” she murmurs against my lips as she snakes her hands around my back. She drags her nails down my skin, causing shivers to take over my whole body.

I try my best to kiss her properly. I move my lips at the right time and let my tongue dance with hers as I press myself against her. But it’s not enough. I don’t really want to be doing this, and I especially don’t want to be doing it with Ella Jones.

Something flickers against my temple just as that thought slithers out of my mind. I tear my mouth away from her and turn to find a butterfly fluttering around my head.

Ella shrieks and starts to bat it away. “Eek, a moth!”

“It’s a butterfly,” I tell her, smiling at her scared face.
What’s a butterfly doing out at this time of night?

“Oh.” She bites her bottom lip and looks up at me through her black lashes.

I turn away from her, trying to focus on the little fluttering insect, and I think about Yara. Thinking about Yara makes me realise how different she is from Ella. How young. How delicate.

I sigh. I know thinking about Yara like this is wrong—for more than one reason. She’s younger than me by at least a couple of years, and even though she seems pretty normal to me, I know there could be some truth to the rumours about her mental state. And don’t even get me started on the stories about how she killed her mother. How do I even broach that subject with her to find out what really happened?

“What’re you thinking about?”

I turn back towards Ella and shake my head
. “
Nothing.”

She smiles. “That’s a lie. But that’s okay because I’m going to make you forget all about it.”

What?

Without saying anything, she drops to her knees in front of me and pulls my zip down.

Yara

I wriggle in between the sheets one last time before I chuck them off me in anger. I can’t get comfy because I’m hot, but it’s mainly because I can’t stop thinking about Gabriel. It’s been a couple of days since I last saw him and my head has been full of him.

Full of the way he looked when the sun was setting on his face. Full of the way his concerned eyes raked all over my body when I woke up. And the thing I can’t stop thinking about is how upset he looked with me the other night. I kind of wish I hadn’t said anything to him about how I thought he was flapping to get away.

I bolt up in bed when I hear the floorboards creaking outside my bedroom. “Who’s there?” I call.

My heart hammers in my chest as the memories stream through my head like a stream slides down a mountain. I sit there, as still as a statue, listening and praying for my Granny to call out that it’s her so I can go back to sleep and not worry.

“Granny?” I whisper. “Is that you?” My jaw quivers and I can feel my breath cooling my hot lips as my breaths wheeze in and out of my lungs.
Just go away. Please go away.

Silence.

I pull the covers up to my chin and tuck my knees to my chest. My hands shake as I wrap them around my legs. Tears leak out of my eyes and snake all the way down my cheeks before creeping into the corners of my mouth.

The floorboard creaks again, making me jump and tremble all at the same time, and then I see a shadow through the gap underneath my door.
Who is it?

My stomach churns, but I know I can’t stay in bed. I have to see who’s outside my room. I slip out of bed, pushing my nightie down my thighs as I tiptoe across my room. When I rest my ear against the door, I can hear the wind rattling down the corridor, bouncing off the bare, crumbling walls.

“Granny, is that you? Are you okay?” I breathe.

I know my fear is irrational. I know what I used to be terrified of doesn’t exist anymore, but it still doesn’t stop my hand from trembling as I grab the doorknob. My cleavage is slick with sweat and my throat feels thick and dry, making me feel sick to my stomach when I pull the door open a fraction.

“Granny?” I whisper.

I close my eyes, suck in a deep breath and then step out into the cool hallway. The air at night isn’t normally this cold and it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The wind howls as it blows in through the broken window frame, and it swirls all around me, forcing the hem of my nightie to lift upwards.

The creaking of the floorboard underneath my toes as I walk down the hallway makes me grit my teeth, the noise vibrating through my jaw and into my head.
Who was outside my door?

I scream when a cold hand clasps my shoulder. I whirl around, gasping, and then I’m slammed against the wall so hard that is causes bits of plaster to sprinkle all over my head.

“What have I told you about staying in your room at night, Yara? What do I always tell you?”

Granny’s eyes are wild and scary, and my whole chest is rising and falling as I try to control my breathing. “I heard a noise,” I pant.

“It was me, you silly girl.” She grabs my shoulders and pulls at me until I’m forced to walk with her. She’s hobbling and shuffling across the floor like the old lady that she is, but she’s still as strong as an ox.

“I can walk,” I tell her, trying to wriggle out of her grip. “What were you doing in the hallway anyway?”

Ignoring me, she pushes my bedroom door open and shoves me into my room. “Stay in here until the sun rises. You know the fucking rule.”

Gabriel

I stare up at the ceiling, trying to ignore her. The room is spinning, or at least it feels that way because of the beer coursing through my veins. When I sit up in bed, I have to wait a few seconds for the dizziness to subside. Reaching over to the bedside table, I grab my glass of water and drain the whole thing in one go. Then I glance at the clock.
What the hell is she doing here at this time?

After fifteen more minutes, I give up. I shove the covers off, pulling on my sports shorts and plain navy hoodie as I walk over to my window. When I look down, I see Yara lying on her back in the middle of my lawn in nothing but a short, black nightie. I sigh and climb out of my window because I have a horrible feeling she isn’t going to go away, and I don’t want my mum waking up to find Yara on our lawn.

Yara lifts her head when I approach her. “About time. I was wondering how long you could ignore me.”

I’m momentarily stunned. It’s only been three days since I last saw her, but I’ve forgotten just how striking Yara is. I smile at her and shake my head. “It’s three in the morning, Yara. I could have been sound asleep for all you knew.”

She leans up on her elbows and frowns at me. “But you weren’t,” she says matter-of-factly. “I checked.”

I raise my eyebrow. “You checked?”

“Yes.” She stands up and gazes up at me. “You were just lying there, blinking at nothing.”

Feeling annoyed with her for snooping, I grab her elbow and guide her across the grass towards her garden.

“I just needed to get out of the house,” she tells me. “And I don’t need you to lead me anywhere.” She pulls her arm out of my grasp and stops.

I halt and look at her, noticing for the first time how dishevelled and panicked she looks.
What’s happened to her tonight?

“I’m leading
you
,” she says, walking off ahead of me.

“Where are we going?” I ask, following her away from our houses and towards the section of wood I used to call “the jungle.”

“To a place where I like to go when I can’t sleep,” she tells me. “Figured you could do with it too, seeing as though you can’t sleep either.”

I don’t like where she’s going with this, so I decide to change the subject. “Aren’t you cold?” I ask, noticing her toned, bare legs sticking out of her nightie.

“Yes.”

“Why haven’t you said anything?”

She shrugs. “I’m not going back for a coat, so I don’t see the point in wasting energy complaining about it. It won’t make me any warmer, will it?”

I roll my eyes at her back and decide I’m not going to talk to her anymore. She’s clearly in a strange mood and I’m not biting. Not this time.

After about ten minutes of trying not to stare at her bum as it wiggles in front of me, I realise how stupid I’ve been. I’ve followed her without question, kept my mouth shut instead of interrogating her while I had the chance, and basically admitted—by not saying anything—that I have a reason why I can’t sleep.

When we get to the creek, I can’t stand the silence for another minute. Yara and quiet just don’t go together.

“So why do you like butterflies so much, Yara?” I ask. There’s an edge to Yara that I hadn’t noticed before tonight. Kind of like a barrier or a bubble around her, as if she’s trying to keep me away. It confuses me a little because I’d have thought she’d be desperate to have a friend, or at least someone to talk to.

“My mother was overdue,” she finally begins as she leaps over the flowing water like a graceful ballerina. “When she went to the hospital, they induced her. Granny says the labour was hard. Forty-one hours in total. And when I came out, I was blue. The midwife slapped my bum, shook me a little and rubbed me with a hot towel, but I didn’t cry…and I didn’t breathe either.”

Is she trying to tell me she has brain damage? Is this why she’s different—why the people of this village think she’s nuts?

“Apparently, the midwife laid me down in a baby cot and turned around to tell my mother they were sorry that they’d lost me but there was nothing else they could do.”

Yara walks off the path and starts to stride through the long grass, the insects chirping at us as I scramble to follow her. How is she able to walk in the pitch black without stumbling? And how does she manage to make it look like she’s floating instead of walking?

“Go on,” I whisper encouragingly.

“I was dead,” she says. “Gone. But then a butterfly fluttered into the room, landed on my forehead and somehow it breathed the life back into me.”

“A butterfly?” I repeat. I guess that explains why she’s obsessed with them.

“Yes. And after I breathed for the very first time, it flapped its wings and flew out of the window as if it hadn’t just saved my life.”

“I see why you like them so much now,” I tell her.

She bats away some low-lying branches and veers off on a different course. “It’s how my Mum decided on my name.”
What happened to your mum?
“Yara means small butterfly,” she whispers.

I freeze, suddenly loving her weird name. It all makes perfect sense now.

“So,” she says, “where’d you go tonight?”

I pause mid-step but Yara continues, so I have to jog to keep up with her. “Excuse me?”

“Tonight,” she repeats. “I saw you come back home in a taxi a few hours ago. Where had you been?”

“Out,” I say, not wanting to tell her anything about where I was…or who I was with.

“Out where?”

“At the bar.”

“With who?” she pushes.

“Enough, Yara,” I snap.

I expect her to flinch at the venom in my words and the tone of my voice, but she doesn’t. She just carries on walking like she’s been doing for the last forty minutes.

“I’m sorry for snapping,” I finally say as we reach a clearing. I feel myself frowning as my eyes take in a small pool of water in the dip of land below us. I’ve lived in this stupid village all my life and I’ve been in these woods at least a thousand times, but I’ve never seen this before. Never.

Before I can ask her how she found this place, Yara peels her nightie over her head. I’m expecting weird knickers and a homemade bra, but there’s nothing—she’s completely and utterly naked, her ash-white hair falling all the way down her back. I quickly glance in the opposite direction, not wanting to stare at her but wanting nothing more than to stare at her at the same time.

“I come here about four times a week,” she tells me. I turn just enough to catch her outline in my peripheral vision and see her slender calf disappear into the midnight-coloured water. “The water is really warm,” she breathes.

I pull my hoodie clean off my head and push my shorts down my legs, leaving on a pair of black boxers. I spin around just in time to see her bum drop under the surface of the water in the single streak of moonlight that splinters across the ripples she just made.

God, she’s perfect.
“What the hell am I doing?” I mutter.

“You’re swimming,” she tells me.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” I grumble as I step into the water. The night air is much colder than it’s been for a long time, and I expect the water to be cool too but it’s warm. Like bath water warm.

A groan slips out of my mouth without me realising it until it’s echoing off the trees that surround us.

“You like it?” Yara swims up to me, her taught waist just a touch away.

“Yes,” I breathe, noticing the way a droplet of water snakes down her cheek and into the corner of her mouth.

“It’s beautiful,” she says, looking around. “Almost magical.”

A bit like you.

“I never knew this was here,” I tell her.

I never knew you were so pretty or interesting.

She smiles, revealing her perfect white teeth, and in that moment it feels as if my heart stops beating. The insects go quiet, the wind dies down and all I can hear is the water lapping against Yara’s skin.
Yara’s naked skin.
“I never knew
you
were here,” she whispers.

“I’ve lived here all my life,” I tell her.

“You’ve not lived like you’re living now,” she says. “Now you’ve let me see you. The real you.”

Yara

The warmth from the sun drenching my cool skin makes me yawn. I was cold after we got out of the water last night, and Gabriel generously offered me his hoodie. When I didn’t take it, he pulled me into his side and wrapped his arm around me to keep me warm. If I had known that’s what he would have done, I would have complained that I was cold a long time before I actually did.

The morning sun hovers just above the horizon and streaks across Gabriel’s face in a deep orange glow. My eyes trail up and down his body, watching his chest rise and fall with each deep breath he takes. For someone who struggles to sleep, he’s certainly a heavy sleeper. I’ve already been up and had a wee in the bushes around the corner. I’ve also washed myself in the warm lake and then sat back down to watch the sun rise properly. But instead of watching the sun, I watch him.

I can’t stop staring at him. I’m pretty sure he’s going to wake up in a minute and catch me, but not even the embarrassment I’d undoubtedly feel can stop my eyes from wandering all over him. He’s mesmerising.

I never thought a man could be beautiful, but he’s far too handsome to just be called…well, handsome. His light brown hair has strands of blonde flowing through it, making it look like the sun has bleached some of it. He has tanned forearms, but when I saw his biceps last night I noticed they were lighter in colour, making me think he must work outside in a t-shirt. He has the deepest brown eyes I’ve ever seen and long black lashes that make it look like his eyes are flashing at me when he blinks. When he smiles, he gets tiny dimples in his cheeks, and he has a strong jaw and plump-looking lips.

In fact, Gabriel has the sort of lips that look like they were made to be kissed. Even when he’s asleep, they’re sort of pouting as if just waiting for my lips to lock against them.

I look away, feeling like an idiot. I can’t kiss Gabriel. I want to. I
really
want to. But I know I can’t—not ever. Gabriel doesn’t seem like the sort of boy that would like to be kissed by someone like me. I bet he has a girlfriend anyway, one who’s smart and clever and funny and sexy. She’s probably everything I’m not—everything I wish I were.

But those lips…I’ve dreamt about them. About them kissing me. About them moving around words as he tells me he loves me. About them smiling at me after I’ve said something deliberately funny. Those lips bring possibilities into my life that make me feel like I’m actually alive.

And that’s what I really like about Gabriel. I feel things deep in my heart that I’ve never felt before. For the first time ever, I’ve felt excitement in the pit of my stomach, and it’s all because of him. Without even trying, he’s made me feel things that I could have only dreamed about feeling before now. He also makes me think about all the things we could have together if he did actually try.

I sigh and lean over him, placing my hands on either side of his face. He stirs beneath me and mumbles something, but it’s not enough to make me stop. I dip my head until I’m literally a centimetre away from his face and then close my eyes as I gently press my lips to his.