Mia Castile - [The Butterfly Chronicles 02]

by Butterfly Kisses (epub)

  “I wouldn’t mind hearing that hook,” Paul says, his arm draped around Tasha. A.J. jumps up and literally runs out of the room. While he’s gone people drink, talk, laugh. This party is low-key and feels right. After about fifteen minutes, A.J. appears with the ukulele, and the guys take turns playing songs. Paul tries to rap to some, and we’re surprised at his skills. He gazes shyly at Tasha, and she giggles. When we’re getting ready to leave, Chase and Lacey come through the front door, and I recognize their make-out glow. I smile to myself, as no one else seems to notice, or they ignore it; either way she deserves to be happy. He does too.

  The next day Britt and I get ready after we hang out in my room most of the morning because she has to go grocery shopping for her mom. We wander the aisles of the grocery, and I watch her closely, wondering if she has any compulsions to shoplift. She’s talks extensively in her therapy with Dr. Mase; she’s talked to Mom about it, but she hasn’t really talked about it with me. It’s kind of the huge elephant in the room. I don’t think she was mad at me over it, but she hasn’t said she’s not. She keeps track of her purchases on the calculator on her phone. She also has a pile of coupons on the top of her purse.

  “I didn’t apply to any colleges,” she says randomly.

  “Why?” I ask, looking at the apples as she fills a bag.

  “How would I pay for it? Dr. Mase says I should think about my future. It’s all I can do to think about making it to graduation.” She weighs the apples and enters a number on the calculator. “I’m going to get a job though.”

  “What about your probation?”

  “I’ve only got twenty-five hours to go for my community service. It’s all manageable.” She shrugs and pushes the cart along. “So I’m going to apply, see what happens. I might have to sit out a year, but I have something that I didn’t before, and that’s hope, so. . . Thanks.”

  “For what? I didn’t tell you to go to college.” She shakes her head at me.

  “Believing in me and sticking around. I know a lot of people who would have disappeared after I was arrested.”

  “I’ve been worried about you.” I look down at the stained concrete floor as we walk. “You were there for me when everyone had turned on me and I had no one. It’s what best friends do.” She smirks at me.

  “That’s because I thought you were a rebel, but it turns out you’re nothing but a good influence.” We both giggle at that statement. “I thought we’d be a bad-ass team. But I’m straight as a board now.” She rounds the corner of another aisle and swings widely. I grab the cart, and we giggle louder.

  “Careful with that; this isn’t your car. You can’t roll it around like you own the road.”

  “I know what I’m doing,” she says as she begins to run, and I jog behind her.

  “Britt,” I call laughing.

  “I’ve got this,” she says as she squeals the tires and makes another sharp turn, treating the displays and end caps as obstacles on a racing course.

  By the time I hit the next aisle, she’s barreling toward the cash registers. “Britt, I mean it,” I say, but it’s too late. She slams into a display advertising juice boxes, and the boxes topple over in a loud crash. Her eyes are wide, and she covers her open mouth, completely humiliated. A stock boy and I race up behind her at the same time and begin restacking the boxes as she gawks. People stare as she squats to help too.

  “Sorry,” she mumbles, and he looks at her with pity in his eyes, recognizing her embarrassment. I rise and walk to the farthest boxes, and as I look up, I see Mr. Gonzales with a basket in his hands standing in line to check out. He’s wearing khaki pants and a plaid shirt with his collar loose and the sleeves rolled up. He glares at me. Not knowing what to do, I just stand there for a moment, looking confused.

  “Hi, Mr. Gonzales,” I say in a small, tight voice offering him a small hello wave. My hands tremble as I squat again and resume stacking the boxes, completely avoiding eye contact. I carry them back to the employee, and he smiles gratefully. “Sorry for the trouble,” I say softly, still feeling Mr. Gonzales’ gaze.

  “It’s OK; it happens.” Britt’s face is bright red. People are still looking at us.

  “I think I’m ready to check out,” she says under her breath. I smile to try to comfort her, but she ignores me. We get in line, not the same one as Mr. Gonzales, and wait our turn to check out.

  When we arrive at her house, she rushes in and leaves me in the car. I’m not allowed to go to her house, and technically I’m in her car not her house. Her mom comes out, a cigarette hanging from her mouth, and her arms crossed to keep her warm in her jeans and sweatshirt. She has bed head, probably from lying on the couch. She walks up to the car and motions for me to roll down the windows, so I hit the button.

  “Why don’t you come in, Lana?” She rubs her arms as she leans in to me.

  “Britt’s going to take me home,” I smile as sweetly as I can. Her face hardens suddenly.

  “My house isn’t good enough for you?” she sneers, and the long ash falls off her cigarette.

  “No, not at all. I’m OK here is all,” I say, trying to recover. I don’t want to hurt her feelings.

  “You’re a snob, and I don’t know why Brittany hangs out with you.” She rises as Britt comes out. “Brittany, take her home, and then you come straight home. I don’t want you hanging out with stuck-up snobs who think they’re too good to go to someone’s house.” She stomps toward Britt, who glares at her at first, but then softens her expression and suddenly looks exhausted.

  “Mom, I’ve got it under control. Just go in and rest; you’re tired,” Britt coaxes.

  “I am tired,” her mom mumbles as Britt leads her back to the house. Britt throws me an apologetic expression, and I raise the window back up. After a few minutes, Britt comes back to the car.

  “It’s a bad day today,” she sighs. “I need to take care of her. Can we hang out tomorrow instead of this evening?” I nod; I get it. “She won’t go to therapy with me.” I wish there was something I could do to help her, but Britt just puts the car into reverse and backs out of her driveway.

  Lacey

  Chase strides to our locker and smiles at me as I scoot over to give him room to exchange his books. “So are you serious about what you said Friday night?” he asks, leaning in too close to me and gives me goose bumps as his breath dances on my neck. I only nod. I’m useless when he does these things to me. “I convinced my dad to rent us a cabin near Brown County. I told him the band and I needed to write. So, we have a place.” I laugh nervously, and his grin widens. “I want it to be amazing for you.”

  “When?” How soon was I going to lose my virginity? His smile falls a little.

  “March.” I can’t help the relief I feel. It’s at least three weeks away. I can prepare for that.

  “So we’re going to really do this?” I ask as my pulse quickens.

  “I think so; the cabin is booked. Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing, well kinda, don’t worry.” He sounds nervous himself, and I’m relieved.

  The weeks pass too quickly. Knowing that we’re going to be together so intimately builds our physical relationship, and we come close to not stopping ourselves a few times before our trip to the cabin. I actually have planned in detail waxing, hair, and mani/pedi appointments. I’ve shopped for complete new outfits, and the only thing left to do is trade my Friday shift with someone. When I told Jade and Tasha last week what we were planning, they both told me in detail their virginity stories. They gave their advice about things to do and not to do. It actually scared me a little, and I’m really nervous as I work with Byron and Henry tonight. Since Henry’s apology, he’s stopped trading shifts with Byron. I miss Byron actually; we always have fun working together. Henry’s been acting weird too; it’s unnerving. He re-friended me on Status Quo, and like tonight was his turn to pick the movie we’re playing on the flat screens,
and he picked Reality Bites, not some action adventure boy movie.

  After Byron finishes ringing up a customer, the store is empty again. I have the nerve to ask now, “Will one of you guys trade Friday with me?”

  “Why?” Henry asks crossing his arms and leaning against the back counter. He still whips his head as if his bangs are in his eyes like when it was longer.

  “I’ll trade any day you want,” I say, avoiding his question and looking at Byron.

  But before Byron can respond, Henry says, “Fine, I’ll do it.” Byron and I look at him with astonishment.

  “Just let me know what day you want,” I say, and he nods at me.

  On Friday, every time I see Chase, it’s all I can do to keep the cheesy grin off my face. People have sex all the time. I could have sex with Chase right now. Miss Simpson and Mr. Eller, who are talking to each other in the hall as I pass them, could be having sex, right now, with each other—I’ve got issues. But it doesn’t change the fact that in less than twenty-four hours, I will no longer be a virgin. After school, Chase follows me to my house, and I park my car and run in to grab the bag that I packed and repacked over and over last night. Within ten minutes, I’m in his car telling him to “go, go, go!” as if I’ve just robbed a bank. He chuckles carelessly as we go to his house. It’s the same routine except for the make-out session in his bedroom. We drive on the interstate for a while, then on state roads the rest of the way. For a March day, it couldn’t be more beautiful. We have the windows down, and the spring air rushes us. In a town called Nashville, he parks at a grocery store. “Stay here. I don’t want you to know what I’m making you for dinner.” He winks at me, and I roll my eyes. He returns with a single paper bag and puts it in the trunk with our overnight bags. He drives another fifteen minutes before he finally pulls into a parking lot by a log cabin. He takes a deep breath and smiles at me. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be,” I say.

  I follow him up the stairs. “Stay here,” He whispers under his breath just before he goes through the old screen door. I don’t understand why he wants me to stay on the porch but I do, and gaze up at the stark branches of all the large maple trees surrounding this cabin. I hear him speak as I glance toward the open window. He’s standing at the counter as an older man checks him in.

  “Your dad didn’t say anything about girls. You understand if you plan on throwing a party and anything is damaged—” the older man demands glancing between me and his computer screen.

  “There’s been a change of plans. The other guys aren’t coming. It’s just me and her,” Chase says, looking over his shoulder at me.

  “I should call your dad.” The man rubs his temple like he’s thinking really hard.

  “Please don’t,” Chase says as he takes out his wallet again and puts down two more hundred dollar bills. The man looks at the money and then at him. “We will leave it as we found it.” The man searches his face.

  “Fine, you’d better. I have your dad’s number. I can call him anytime.” Chase nods as the man gives him the keys and a map. He circles our cabin, and I move to meet him at the door. He takes my hand and leads me to the car. Once we’re inside he lets out a deep breath.

  “That was close.” He looks at me and winks.

  “You’re telling me,” I laugh. He drives the winding road until we come up on a large log cabin. Its wood is grayed, and it looks like it’s from pioneer days. Chase parks, and we bring our bags in. It is one open room of a living room and kitchen, and there are stairs that lead up to the two bedrooms.

  “We had to get enough room for everyone. I couldn’t tell my dad I needed a smaller cabin.” He chuckles, pointing toward the upstairs. I nod, realizing suddenly how real this is. Chase watches me closely, almost sensing my unease. “Why don’t you go upstairs.” He fumbles with the brochure. “The master bathroom looks amazing.” He shows me a picture as if to convince me. “Take your time, I’m going to fix dinner, and I don’t want you to come down until it’s ready.” I nod and take my bag, silently climbing the stairs. My heart beats erratically as I try to remain calm. I go straight to the bathroom where my hands tremble while I start the tub. He was right; this bathroom is large, with a Jacuzzi tub, huge mirrors, and a double shower with dual shower heads. I return to the master bedroom and take it in. It has a king-size bed with a log frame and similar furniture. The bedspread is hunter green, burgundy and blue plaid. I trace the foot board and look at myself in the dresser mirror. I want to memorize how I look now because I’m convinced I’ll look different tomorrow. My eyes are the size of saucers as I watch my reflection. My hands begin to tremble again, and I shake them to try to get the jitters out of them. I pace until the tub is full; then I gather my toiletries, strip in the bathroom, and climb in. A long bath usually calms me, but the excitement laced with anxiety is almost too much. Finally, I calm down around the time my fingers begin to wrinkle. I dry, lotion up, and dress in a cream sundress that hits just above my knees. It has an empire waist and light yellow flowers embroidered throughout it. I put my yellow shrug over it. I take my time putting on my makeup, making sure it’s perfect. Then I blow out my hair and curl loose curls with my flat iron. They seem to be the only curls that ever stay in my hair. I slip my feet into low, open toe heels. I survey myself and realize it’s the best I can do. I pick up all the clothes I’ve scattered and my stuff in the bathroom, making it presentable again, finally hanging my towels over the rail. There is a knock at the door. I open it to Chase standing before me, gorgeous. He’s showered and is wearing dark jeans and a gray button-up shirt tucked in. I smell garlic, and my stomach grumbles. I look down, embarrassed, but if he hears it he doesn’t say anything.

  “Beautiful,” he whispers hoarsely. Again I feel a blush creeping up my neck. He has this effect on me that takes my breath away as he takes my hand and leads me downstairs. Soft music plays as I see that he’s set the table and turned off the lights so that the only light we have is from the setting sun and the candles burning around the room.

  “Have you seen the view?” he asks, leading me to a large window that faces west and overlooks a hill and trees.

  “No, you didn’t give me a chance to look at anything when you rushed me upstairs,” I laugh and stand beside him. He wraps his around me and kisses the top of my head.

  “Well, here it is,” he says softly.

  “It’s so beautiful,” I say, admiring the starkness of the woods. Jade would love to be here with her camera.

  “Not really. When you stand beside it, it’s hard to take my eyes away from you.” I stare ahead, not able to say anything or look at him. “Let’s eat.” He leads me to the table where I see tossed salad, chicken alfredo, and garlic bread.

  “You didn’t do this by yourself,” I accuse, but a smile in my voice flirts with him.

  “I did. It’s maybe the only meal I can make, but it’s the best,” he says proudly. We eat, and he is right; it is delicious. Garlic bread might not have been the best idea, so we both brush our teeth after dinner, laughing about it. I feel at ease with him as the anxiety dissipates. This feels right; he feels right. He is making everything perfect. When we come back together in the living room, he has two movies. He holds up the first and smiles mischievously. I groan. It is Stolen Artifact, a Jason Staten movie that we saw with Henry the night Chase took a picture of me taking the Farrah wig off in my dad’s car.

  “What? It’s from our first date. New to DVD.” He waggles his eyebrows at me.

  “That was not our first date,” I say, snatching it from him to look at the back of the cover.

  “As I recall, I paid, and you sat beside me. That’s a date.” He reaches for the movie, but I hold it away from his hands.

  “I think you made out more with my popcorn than me,” he laughs.

  I read the back in my announcer voice, “Can John Turner uncover the secrets that elude him? Will he avenge his family a
nd restore his honor. Only time will tell, and the lost artifact.” I groan at that last part and Chase laughs. I look at him, his arms around me laughing, his wonderful laugh. I love that laugh. He lets go of me and picks up the second movie.

  “Well then, we have this, Second Chances, ‘Allison has it all, the career she always wanted, a Manhattan apartment, but something is missing. Dennis has one day to find the girl that got away in high school before he moves to London. He only wants closure and one night out with her. Can he convince her that he’s worth a second chance?’ Gawd, who writes these things?” It is Chase’s turn to groan.

  “You picked them out,” I laugh. He looks at me and smiles.

  “You’re right; I say we skip these movies and make our own.” He grabs me again around the waist, pulls me close to him, and we almost topple over. I laugh and cling to him.

  “Dishes, movie, then bedtime,” I say, my nerves ready to resurface, humming just under my skin.

  “You’re driving me crazy, you know that?” he chuckles as he releases me and begins to clear the dishes.

  “Join the club,” I say under my breath, earning me another chuckle from him. We do the dishes, and he concedes in the movie choice. Chase starts a fire in the fireplace, and we get comfortable on the couch, snuggling under a blanket. Now that the sun has set, it feels like an Indiana March. I’m glad the fire is doing its job and keeping us warm. We watch the movie, and it’s sweet and cute. It is a good choice for me. Chase keeps trying to distract me, but I’m not sure if I’m ready for the next step that is in front us now. Literally, he’s leading me up the stairs, and suddenly my lungs don’t want to work. He turns and looks at me on the stairs.