Ardent Strangers

by Samantha Kately

  The envelope!

  I rip open the end and peek inside. There’s a lanyard with a Haven VIP access card. I throw it around my neck, then pull out the map. A small card is tucked inside—a glossy photograph of vivid butterflies in flight, the park’s logo printed in the corner. I assume it’s some generic VIP thank you card, but when I open it I find a flourish of blue texta:

  Eve,

  Thank you

  Nate

  Xo

  I’m not sure if he’s thanking me for coming today or for saving him. Regardless, I stare at it for the rest of the journey, as if I can get an insight into the man by the curves of his handwriting or the kiss-hug at the end. Does he write that on every card? The card is so simple, but there is a warmth about it that feels very personal. I close it and run my fingers over the butterflies, realizing that he’s chosen this as a memento, a reminder of our encounter. I just hope it’s worth remembering.

  Actually, no. The worse this goes the better. Aaron is counting on it.

  The buggy stops at two white pillars, which have trails of sculpted butterflies flitting their wings. A spectacular arch at the top spells out ‘Butterfly Sanctuary’ in wrought iron letters. Taking a breath, I walk through, taking the shadowy path surrounded by trees and flowers that seem to lead to another world. Behind the greenery stands a massive glass atrium. Nathaniel is in there, waiting.

  Help. I think I actually have butterflies in my chest.

  I can’t breathe.

  Ashley walks past me and opens the first door to the atrium. I hold my head up high and follow. While he goes to open the second door I’m close to having a panic attack. What if a whole camera crew is in there, waiting to get exclusive pictures of Nathaniel and me? What if I can’t think of a single thing to say?

  This could be a nightmare.

  “This way, Miss Lockhart,” Ashley directs, waving me toward the wooden path suspended throughout the sanctuary. I don’t move. I can’t. “Is everything alright?”

  I smile, feeling like a complete fake as I step out onto the U-shaped bridge. Incredible warmth swamps me and I relax a little. The tropical climate has to be double the temperature of the chilly air outside.

  A mammoth black and green butterfly flutters near my face, and I really do smile as its wing tickles my cheek. I hold perfectly still, hoping it will land on me like the last few times I was here. The door shuts behind me and I instinctively turn. Ashley is gone. When I turn back the butterfly is ascending to the treetops. Smaller garden-sized butterflies flurry past, some descending onto a sign with photographs of the butterflies living within the enclosure. The real ones are so well camouflaged that I have to lean forward to check which are real—easy when my approach sends them flying away.

  I know that I’m stalling, that I should be walking the bridge in search of Nathaniel. But while the butterfly sanctuary is huge, if I take a few more steps I’ll have a clear view from one end to the other.

  Is he here? Maybe he’s running late. Could give me a chance to flee.

  A few more steps and I peek over my right shoulder.

  Nathaniel is in the middle of the bridge, arms leaning on the rail as he stares down at the butterflies on his hand. He looks perfectly relaxed.

  Bracing myself, I start walking. Agh, my boots sound so loud!

  Nathaniel’s gaze cuts from the butterflies to me. His smile lights up the entire space and I can’t help but smile back. That’s when a trail of butterflies obscures my vision, when my boot slides out and I yelp. Nathaniel dashes from the rail, his scarf falling undone as his arms spring out to catch me, but there’s no missing the pain he’s in as his elbow braces his side. I right myself just in time, and his eyes warm as he takes me in. Determined not to blush, I let my eyes wander over him in the same playful manner, trying to forget that it was Aaron’s punch that had made Nathaniel flinch in pain.

  Oh no. I’m staring. Why am I staring?

  “Hello,” he says, his voice managing to fill up the world like it always does.

  “Hi.”

  Nathaniel smiles down at the card in my grasp. “Is that for me?”

  I forgot I was holding this! It looks so bold in my hand, the little girl’s red love heart taking up the entire page. I laugh and hold the heart to my chest. “This? I’m never parting with this.”

  “Oh?” he says. “Is that because you’re holding my heart in your hand?”

  “Funny.” I feign interest in the butterflies. The butterflies happen to be fluttering away from me fast. My nervous hands are flying everywhere, unlike Nathaniel’s perfectly poised hands that are covered in more butterflies than before. “I’m not quite sure whose heart this is,” I add, slipping the card into my bag, “but a little girl gave it to me on the way in. I promised her I’d keep it safe.”

  “Oh, well, that changes everything.”

  “And how do you figure that?”

  “The girl’s a genius,” he says cryptically, then laughs.

  “Okay. Now I’m confused.”

  “We should revisit this conversation at a later time, but for now we should talk about you and Aaron.”

  “Me and Aaron? Why would we want to do that?”

  “I’d prefer to get the subject out of the way so we can enjoy our time together.”

  “You’re straight to the point, aren’t you?”

  “In my experience, cutting to the heart of the problem works best.” He gives a hopeless smile, reminiscent of the man I first met. “Besides, I have nothing to lose. Nothing to—”

  I hold up my hand. “Don’t say it.”

  “Say what?”

  “Nothing to hope for.”

  “You remember?” he says, reaching out to me. I expect to feel him touch my arm but he rubs the stubble on his chin, debating something. “So, you and Aaron, you’ve become friends, bandmates, flat-mates…” He steals a breath. “Is there more to it than that? I shouldn’t ask, I know, but after seeing that interview of you both the other night… When Hudson asked if there was any truth to the name ‘Ardent Strangers,’ I realized it might be true. Aaron had been with you at the café when I’d come searching for you, and I’ve never seen him that protective over a girl before.”

  “Um…” I shift on the spot. He cannot be asking me this! Worse, he watched Original Star—me not coming out of the room at the beginning; the song; the interview where we evaded every question. I’d even pretended not to know Nathaniel, then prayed he wasn’t watching. And the question about Aaron and I being lovers… “We might be. Honestly, I don’t really know.”

  He takes a step back. “You don’t know?”

  I shake my head and shiver, despite the balmy temperature in the room. Without thinking, the entire story of my past week with Aaron comes tumbling out. I even reveal that we’d slept together after Aaron confided in me about Damien. I explained the latest clauses in us waiting—that I would have to go to dinner with Nathaniel and kiss him.

  Nathaniel glances around the butterfly sanctuary, but there’s no missing his anger or shock.

  I step back. Then take another step. Maybe I could make it all the way to the door without him noticing. I should never have told him. But he had wanted to get the subject out of the way. I did. Disastrously.

  “So, Aaron gave you provisions to kiss me?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  “And you went along with it?”

  I look away. “He kind of left me no choice.”

  “And he’s refusing to be with you until I’m out of the picture, is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he thinks that the dinner will be enough for me?”

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  He scratches his head, messing up his ponytail. “I was hoping that you would want dinner with me, not because you had to fulfil some obligation to get rid of me.”

  I put my head down, completely and utterly ashamed of myself. If I’m honest, I’ve never stopped wanting that dinner with Nathaniel. “Sorry. That sound
s horrible. If it’s any consolation, I’m really confused right now.” I wipe my eyes and turn from him. “Everything’s been happening so fast. Meeting you that night. Meeting Aaron. The way he keeps telling me he wants me, only to put me on hold again because we’re in the competition. Now, because of you.”

  “Putting you on hold for a competition, Eve… He’s an absolute idiot.”

  “A bit harsh.” But I kind of agree. “He’s struggling right now, and I… I’m complicating things.”

  “I’d say you’re a pretty good complication to have,” he says, turning me gently to face him, his hands drifting over my arms as he lets me go.

  “Ha. Sure.”

  “I’m serious. Things might be hard for him right now, even for myself, but Eve, you are not a complication. My friendship with Aaron, now that is complicated.” He leans back on a rail, looking at a red and green butterfly flitting past. “You know, Damien wasn’t my brother, but he was the closest thing I had to one. I miss him like I would one of my own family—more so. But I’m not allowed to grieve for him like that, or at least that’s Aaron’s feeling on the matter.”

  “I’m sorry. I never thought of it like that.”

  “And I would never ask you to kiss another guy to find out where your loyalties lie. I’d trust you from the beginning.”

  Surprisingly sage words. “Well, Aaron doesn’t think you’ll give up the messages to me until I’ve given you that dinner I promised.”

  He thinks about that for a moment then gives a boyish smile. “He’s probably right.”

  I roll my eyes, annoyed that his smile is working on me.

  “Let me get this straight,” he says. “You can’t be with him until we’ve had dinner?”

  “Correct.”

  “How does dinner three weeks from now sound?”

  I frown.

  He laughs.

  “That’s a long time away.” Aaron will probably forget all about me. “How ‘bout tomorrow night?”

  “Keen, aren’t you? Don’t you have a concert to perform in?”

  I slap my head. Idiot. It’s only my first live show tomorrow night, but Nathaniel manages to scramble my brain at every opportunity. He’s purposely trying to sabotage Aaron and I. “Monday night, then.”

  “Nope, can’t make dinner Monday night, or any other night for the next few weeks.”

  “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

  “Never. Do you like butterflies?”

  “Who doesn’t like butterflies?” I say, smiling at how he can change a subject.

  He lifts his arms and the five butterflies on his hands flurry upwards like a ribbon fluttering and twirling through the air. “Hear that?”

  I frown. “I don’t hear anything.”

  “Precisely.” He stretches out his arm and moments later a brown and gold butterfly descends onto his sleeve, looking at peace. “You can never hear a butterfly fly.”

  “I’d never really thought about that before.” I smile. “You find them fascinating, don’t you? Is that why you chose to come here?”

  He looks from the butterfly to me. “About a year ago I was struggling to come up with ideas for a new prototype. It was frustrating me no end. I’d never had that problem before—”

  “You invent things?”

  He gives a slight nod, as if he rarely shares this fact with anyone. “Anyway, a few weeks later I was visiting Damien in our Melbourne office. He was the CEO of our Australian and Asian branches, while I ran our US and UK markets—”

  “Hang on? Is that why you’re still in Australia, because you’re now running all the offices yourself?”

  He smiles regrettably. “With Damien gone, I don’t trust anyone else with the company. He wasn’t just a co-founder, he helped make my inventions come alive. I can do the concept, the physics and math, but he was the genius with computers and electronics. We were the perfect team, until…” He shrugs.

  I nod. “I’m sorry. About Damien.”

  “Thanks.” He clears his throat.

  “So, the butterflies…” I say, wanting to lighten the mood.

  “Yes. The butterflies.” His gaze wanders over the roof of the atrium and the trees and butterflies within. “Damien brought me here one morning. Haven Park is quieter on a Monday so he thought it would relax me, break me out of my fog. I stayed in this space for a good hour, staring at butterflies, studying their colors, their movements, the way they change course and the way they would land. Aaron had come in after an hour, interrupting my moment of inspiration, asking me if I’d lost my mind. I think he was bored standing outside waiting for me. The second he left, I looked over the sanctuary and the sky through the glass and it all came together. I could see it completely formed, the inner workings, the applications for our newest creation—”

  “What was it?”

  His mouth twists to the side, giving me a skeptical look. “Considering how well you kept that contract under wraps, I’m going to assume you’re pretty good at keeping secrets.”

  I feel my cheeks warm. “That contract, I’m—”

  He waves a hand, brushing my apology aside. “I wasn’t blaming you for the contract, Evangeline. I understand, but the length you went to protect it, that tells me I can trust you. Normally, I would get a client to sign a confidentiality agreement before showing them my work, but I think you’ve probably had enough of those. And it’s kind of a date killer, wouldn’t you say?”

  “A little.”

  “So, you’ll not utter a single word about this to anyone?”

  “I won’t. Although, I’m not sure what it is I’m protecting.”

  “This…” He inhales deeply and reaches inside his coat, extracting something small. He opens his palm, and there sits a darkly tinted ball no bigger than a golf ball, and it’s hard to say if it’s glass or rubber. Clear layers of thin plastic curl over its surface with small greyish veins running through them. It’s unlike any ball I’ve seen, but it’s still a ball. How the Butterfly Sanctuary inspired this, I have no idea.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “It’s just a ball, right?”

  “Um… Pretty much. Although, you’ve definitely got me curious.”

  “Good,” he says, giving me an appreciative nod. “Most people, when they first see this, think that I’m having a laugh before I reveal the real prototype.”

  “No appreciation,” I scoff, then quieten as he places the ball into my palm, his fingers tingling over my skin as they leave. The ball is lighter than I imagined, almost feather light. I bring it up to my eyes and peer through its surface, spying glints of metal behind the greyish tint. “Not wanting to sound ignorant or anything, but what is it?”

  He rubs his hands together briskly. “It’s been tentatively called Le Papillon.”

  “The butterfly,” I say, recalling the word from a song I’d learned in my teens. “Why in French?”

  “Le Papillon is derivative of the Latin name for butterfly.” He shrugs. “That, and everything sounds better in French.”

  I laugh. “True.”

  “So, what would my lady like to see?” He smiles broadly, and I swear he’s nervous. “Elephants, emus, or tigers?”

  “Um, they’re all good, but…” I hold out the ball. I mean, Le Papillon. “What about this?”

  He nods, but his eyes turn nervous again. “Shall we give it a test run?”

  “Totally.”

  “Okay. Flatten out your hand.”

  I cup my hand, scared that if I flatten it anymore the ball will fall, along with however millions of dollars he’s invested into the thing.

  Nathaniel steps closer and I still. He looks as if he’s going to kiss me. “Like this,” he says, gently straightening my fingers before stepping back and pulling out a device that looks like a smart phone, which has a handful of buttons at the bottom and metal knobs on either side.

  He’s thinking about work, not a kiss. Idiot.

  He looks up from hi
s gadget and smiles. “What?”

  “Nothing,” I squeak.

  “I don’t believe that for a second, but okay.” He fiddles with the gadget, becoming more engrossed by the second. I jump a little as the ball starts vibrating against my hand. It twitches, then rolls in a tiny circle around my palm. There are countless tiny red lights glowing dimly behind the tint, and from what I can tell they form a ball of their own, spinning in the opposite motion to the sphere touching my skin. A squeal escapes me as the ball rolls off my hand and falls.

  Ah! I’ve dropped it. I’ve dropped the prototype!

  I stare at the ground around me, praying it didn’t roll off the bridge and into the garden below. It could be anywhere!

  I blink up at him, patting my heart, which is beating all too rapidly.

  He stops pressing buttons on his gadget. “I have to say, I’m impressed at how protective you are over my work. Although, I suppose that shouldn’t be much of a surprise.”

  “Why is that?”

  He shakes his head. “You took care of a complete stranger. You never let me fall.”

  “Well, I let the ball fall,” I say, horrified.

  “No. I did that,” he says, holding back a smile. “I was trying to impress you, not scare you. But alas…”

  Impress me?

  He taps a few buttons below the screen, then glides his finger over the screen itself. “Watch….”

  I gasp as a thin dark blur speeds past my eyes, then arcs towards the rail Nathaniel is leaning against. It strikes the surface with barely a sound, rolling along the length of the rail and slows to a stop. A white butterfly comes to rest beside it and flits off again. The ball’s inner lights flash and the plastic film unfurls into four clear wings that flutter and take flight, following the butterfly’s twisting path upwards and sideways. Every direction the butterfly takes the ball automatically follows—I know this, as Nathaniel’s not touching the control; his gaze is following his creation.

  “How does it do that—follow the butterfly?” I ask.

  “Come see this,” Nathaniel murmurs, tilting the screen toward me.

  I close the distance, trying not to brush my body against Nathaniel’s arm as I peer down at the screen, but it’s unavoidable. The screen is split into quarters, the first follows the butterfly, while the other three show the atrium constantly shifting 360 degrees. He taps a button and the images freeze, the entire atrium from above and below, the north and south bending toward each other in an orb that forms a complete picture of butterflies and trees and Nathaniel holding his remote and me leaning over his arm to see the screen, the ball filming it all.