by Erin Noelle
After finally pulling ourselves from his bed, Mason took me back to my apartment with a promise to see each other again soon. I knew that at any time Mason could decide he didn’t want to continue to play along with this game that I was making the rules for. I had told myself to just enjoy any time that I did get with him, and after just our first three lessons, I had gained quite a bit of confidence while in bed with him. Mason had not once eluded or attempted to go all the way with me. He was respecting my wish to not go there, even though I could’ve easily been persuaded in the heat of the moment.
Saturday afternoon passed quickly and before I knew it, it was time to take a shower and get ready for Dylan’s arrival. Part of me thought I should get all dolled up so that Dylan could see what he would be missing, but in the end I threw on a gray camisole and some yoga pants. I was too tired to care. I did at least blow dry my hair and put a little mascara and lip gloss on so that I didn’t look completely awful. I wished that Evie would have been there to help calm my nerves with her always insightful advice, but she was spending the entire weekend at Max’s because he was going to be out of town the following week.
At five ’til five, a knock on the door alerted me of Dylan’s arrival. I wiped my clammy palms on my cotton pants and went to let him in. Dylan looked as handsomely GQ as ever in his khakis and forest green golf shirt, even with the uncommon dark circles under his gloomy eyes. Despite what had happened or what was going to happen between the two of us, I hated seeing him so obviously stressed and strained. I immediately stepped toward him and we wrapped our arms around one another, neither of us saying a word. He squeezed me so tight that I thought he may had bruised a rib, but I didn’t dare complain.
After several minutes, we finally pulled apart and I led him to the sofa in the living area. I grabbed us both a bottle of water and then sat down on the couch, facing him with my legs tucked up underneath me.
“I’ve missed you, Dylan,” I said with a small smile.
“I’ve missed you too, Scarlett,” he returned the sentiment. “I’ve wanted to call so bad, but I just wasn’t sure what to say.”
“Well, let’s start with the truth. What happened last Saturday? Everything was going so good and then you just started acting weird and then you just left? No explanation . . . nothing.”
He looked around the room, obviously uncomfortable with my direct, to-the-point questions.
“Dylan, look at me,” I demanded. “I’m a big girl, I can handle it. Just tell me the truth.”
“Okay,” he exhaled loudly as he began. “I have been best friends with a girl named Jillian for the last few years. We met at freshman orientation, both non-native Texans, and we hit it off instantly. When we first met we were both in a serious relationship with someone from our respective home towns. The situation was perfect for us to be friends because we could hang out and have fun, and even though we were both attracted to one another, we respected and understood the difficulties of having a long distance relationship, so neither of us ever crossed the line. Well of course, neither of those relationships lasted, and then we each dated other people and somehow, we just never were both single at the same time.” He paused to take a drink. “I realized a long time ago that I was in love with her, but I was always too scared to act on it because I didn’t want lose her as a friend. So, I went on with life as did she.” Dylan ran his fingers through his hair and sighed.
“When I met you back in August,” he continued, “I was instantly charmed by your natural beauty and your honest and sincere personality. Then, the more time I spent hanging out with you and talking to you on the phone, the more I realized how much I really liked you. I honestly thought that you might be the one to make my heart forget about Jillian. But a little over a month ago, she and I were out at a bar and we started drunk talking about love and life and all of that . . . and then before I knew it, we were kissing. Afterwards, I was a wreck. I didn’t know what to think about if or how things changed between her and me. And I felt guilty about what I had done to you and about whether or not I should tell you.” He looked into my face, trying to gauge my reaction.
“You didn’t have to tell me Dylan, we weren’t exclusive or anything. You just needed to tell me if y’all were going to get together so that I wasn’t cheating with some other girl’s man. I don’t do that,” I assured him.
He nodded. “Well, Jillian and I didn’t decide to get together after that kiss. We really didn’t even talk about it. But it did change things between us. The way we looked at each other became different . . . more sensual, more intense, more possessive. I’m not sure exactly how to describe it, but I know you understand the emotions behind it. It’s the same way you and Ash look at each other.”
My eyes shot to his face at his last sentence and he smiled understandingly at me. I didn’t even bother to argue or defend my and Ash’s relationship because it would’ve been no use. Dylan knew how I felt about Ash because he felt the same way about Jillian.
“I’m sorry,” I forced out of my vocal chords, not sure what else to say.
“Don’t be, Scarlett. But just understand why I didn’t tell you about her before, and understand that I did enjoy spending time with you, the same way you did with me . . . well, at least I hope you did.” He grinned widely at me. I simply nodded in response. I certainly did understand.
“So back to last Saturday,” Dylan wiped the smile off his face and looked solemnly in my eyes. “The night before our date, Jillian and I had a sit down talk to discuss our feelings and we put everything out on the table . . . including our clothes if you know what I mean.” He closed his eyes and winced at his revelation.
I stifled a laugh as I remembered back to the Friday night before and thought that I probably had Mason’s cock in my mouth around the same time that Dylan was balls deep in his bestie. He opened his eyes and saw that I wasn’t even close to upset. “You’re not mad that I had sex with someone else the night before I took you on a date?” He asked incredulously.
“No, Dylan, I’m not. I am actually happy for you and Jillian. I just wish you would have told me. We didn’t have to go out the next day. You could’ve taken her instead.”
“I would never do that to you. I really wanted to tell you that night, but we were having such a good time. And honestly, I knew it would likely be the last time that we ever went out, so I was trying to enjoy it. My getting together with Jillian doesn’t change the fact that I really like you. It’s actually more of a reason that I need to stay away from you. You are a temptation that I find hard to refuse.” Even as he was saying the words, lustful thoughts weighed down his eyelids and his voice dropped. I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I was a little bit tempted to crawl over to him, straddle his lap, and kiss him senseless. But sanity and reason prevailed, and I stayed sitting on my cushion. I wasn’t that girl and I didn’t need any more drama in my life.
Instead, I kissed the backs of his hands that were threaded through mine. “Dylan, I wish you and Jillian all the luck in the world. I would love to remain friends with you, possibly even meet her, but I would never want to do anything that would cause a problem in y’all’s relationship in any way. You just let me know, okay?” He nodded and I continued. “I want to thank you for being such a gentleman and a great friend to me when I first got here. I will never forget that.”
With nothing more to really say, we both stood up and I walked him to the door. Right before he opened it to leave, Dylan turned around and hugged me. “I hope Ash is smart enough one day to go after what his heart really wants. Until then, take care of yourself and promise me you won’t get involved with any douchebags,” he whispered in my ear and kissed my cheek. I laughed and I felt truly content with the way things were ending with Dylan.
“I promise.”
I found myself sitting in my apartment alone on a Saturday night with no plans and no way of getting anywhere even if I did; it was eerily similar to the way I had spent the first eighteen and a half years of
Saturdays in my life. With Evie gone and Dylan out of the picture, I wasn’t sure who to even contact about making plans. I didn’t even have Mina’s or Jess’s numbers, Evie always took care of making our plans with them. I opened the contacts section of my phone and found I only had three other numbers besides family members: Evie, Ash, and Mason.
As much as I wanted to, I definitely wasn’t calling or texting Mason after spending the entire previous night with him. It was up to him to contact me; the last thing I wanted to come off as was clingy or desperate. I contemplated whether or not I should message Ash; I had never initiated a texting conversation with him mainly for the same reasons I didn’t want to do the same to Mason. My grandmother had always told me when I was younger, “Never chase after a boy, Scarlett. You let them chase you.” I felt like I was chasing them both in a way as it was, I didn’t need to blow up their phones to emphasize the fact.
I hadn’t heard from Ash since I walked off the stage and practically out the door of the bar. I guessed that he either didn’t care if I made it home okay this time or he assumed I wasn’t going home or maybe both. For the life of me, I could not figure him out. I also wanted to yell at him about his stunt calling me out the way he had done. I wasn’t really mad at him any longer, if his goal had been to piss off Mason, it had quite the opposite effect. I probably owed him a thank you.
I really didn’t want to spend the rest of the night by myself, so I swallowed my pride and hoped he would respond.
Me (7:55 PM) You going to J & N’s tonight?
Luckily, he didn’t make me wait long.
Ash (7:58 PM) Was planning on it. You going with Dylan or Evie?
Me (8:00 PM) Neither. Not seeing D anymore, Evie at Max’s. Want to come get me?
I figured there was no reason to beat around the bush.
Ash (8:03 PM) I’ll be there at 9
Me (8:o4 PM) K, See you then
Pleased with myself for rectifying my lonely night and having the self-confidence to ask Ash to come and pick me up, I skipped to my closet to find something to wear.
An hour later I opened the door to find Ash wearing almost the exact outfit that I had on: worn out jeans, a navy blue t-shirt (mine was a bit more fitted than his), and brown flip flops. We took one look at each other and cracked up laughing.
“I guess I need to change,” I said, turning around and heading back into the room with Ash following close behind. I could smell his unique Ash scent and couldn’t wait to snuggle up in it later that night.
“I don’t care if you change or not. I think it’s pretty funny actually, and besides, you look good in that,” he said. He grabbed my shoulder and turned me around to face him. I expected him to say something else but instead he just stared at me. It was like he was trying to read some deep dark secret buried in my soul or something. After what seemed like an hour, but was probably more like a minute, I broke the silence. “If you’re sure, then I’m ready. Just let me grab my phone and my purse.” I wasn’t sure if he expecting or wanting me to bring up the previous night, but I had decided it was best if I didn’t.
I gathered my purse and phone, locked up, and followed him out to his car. I wasn’t sure about Ash but to me the whole situation felt rather bizarre . . . almost like a date. We had never gone anywhere together with just the two of us in a car. I tried hard to remind myself that it wasn’t, that he was simply a friend giving me a ride to a party that he happened to be going to anyways, but my heart refused to listen and was fluttering violently as he opened the car door for me.
We hadn’t been on the road but two or three minutes when Ash looked over at me and asked, “What do you say we grab some Chinese takeout and take it back to my place and just hang out there? Meg had a project or something so she wasn’t going tonight either.” He looked hopeful that I would agree and my heart soared even higher. The higher it climbed, the further it would fall . . .
“Sure, that sounds fine,” I agreed, trying not to send too eager. Hmmm, let’s see. I can go hang out at a party and watch a bunch of girls throw themselves at Ash without even Dylan there to distract me, or I could go spend the entire evening at Ash’s house, just the two of us. And Meg, I reminded myself, but she sure wasn’t interested in getting in Ash’s pants. It wasn’t a very difficult decision.
Half an hour later, the three of us sat around their kitchen table stuffing our faces with the feast that Ash had ordered for us. Meg had let me borrow some pajama pants so that I could relax completely and not have to hang around in my jeans. We all joked around and complained about the coursework that we had to complete before the Thanksgiving holiday. After dinner, Meg excused herself and disappeared into her room to work on her project. Ash and I refilled our drinks and moved down the hall into his room. He grabbed a pair of his pajama pants as well and went into the bathroom to shower. While I waited for him to return, I noticed a large drawing on his desk that he had obviously been working on. At first glance it appeared to be a tribal butterfly, similar to several tattoos I had seen before. However, as I looked closer, I noticed that the names Eros and Psyche were interwoven into the wings of the butterfly. I immediately thought back to the first night I had met Ash and ended up spending the night in his bed, that night we had unknowingly began our string of Saturday night sleepovers, and the night that he had called me Psyche.
All I knew about the story of Eros and Psyche was the short summary that Ash had given me when I had asked him about it before. I had never looked up the entire myth, I think I was afraid that I would get my hopes up that he meant something more than he did by calling me that. And since that day he had only called me butterfly, so I really hadn’t allowed myself to think about it again. But now that I saw this beautiful butterfly that held the names of Psyche and Eros, I had to know the full story.
Ash exited the bathroom showered and changed. I loved the smell of his soap that lingered on his skin long after using it. It made me think of waterfalls and cold springs. I didn’t even give him a chance to say anything before I bombarded him.
“I want to know the whole story of Eros and Psyche. Will you tell it to me?” I asked demandingly. He looked at me and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“Did you see what I was working on?” he asked, already knowing the answer. I lowered my eyes and nodded. I hoped he wasn’t mad that I had been snooping around. I looked back up at him and his gaze was focused in on my mouth. I wanted him to kiss me so bad, but instead he kept talking.
“I thought you were going to look it up?” A look that I thought (hoped) could’ve been disappointment passed over his face.
I shrugged my shoulders and looked down at the floor. “I just haven’t had a chance with school and all.” I knew that sounded like the lamest excuse, but I didn’t know what else to say.
“Come sit down and get comfortable and I’ll be happy to tell you the world’s first fairy tale.” He smiled warmly at me and patted the bed next to him as he crawled in and adjusted the pillows. “I’ll even begin with ‘Once upon a time’ and end with ‘and they lived happily ever after’ if you want,” he teased. I stuck my tongue out at him.
Over the next hour, Ash went into great detail telling the beautiful, enduring story of love that would not be denied between Aphrodite’s son Eros, the God of Love, and Psyche, the exquisite maiden princess. He described how their path to one another took many unnecessary turns due to interference from jealous outsiders, miscommunication, stubbornness, and lack of trust; however, in the end, as in all good fairy tales, true love found a way to persevere. Eros and Psyche were able to forgive each other for their shortcomings and were determined to overcome any obstacles necessary to be together. Zeus was so impressed with their undying love and selfless dedication to one another, that he allowed Psyche to drink ambrosia, the drink of the Gods, and granted her immorality so that she and Eros could be together forever.
As Ash finished the story, I realized how many of the current day romance books and movies were so similar to
this myth that was thousands of years old. I guessed the trials and tribulations of finding true love, as well as the sheer joy and bliss of living in it once you have it, were something that humans had experienced from the beginning of time.
I wasn’t sure how long I had been lost in my own thoughts, but I finally noticed Ash just staring at me with a boyish grin on his face. “What are you thinking about, butterfly?”
When I told him what I was pondering, he nodded and agreed. “Love really is a tricky thing, isn’t it? It has definitely been the inspiration for more art, more writings, more music . . . shit, even more deaths, than anything else in history.”
“It’s a necessary evil, isn’t it? Or I guess you could say a tragic inevitability,” I mused. “We all love someone, whether it be erotic love or family love or even self-love. So we are all dependent on the happiness and nirvana that is felt when that love is strong and healthy, but vulnerable to the heart-wrenching pain of that love when it’s either taken away or not returned.” Unfortunately, I was beginning to learn firsthand the misery of unrequited love.
He pondered my words for a moment. I thought he was going to say something in response, but instead he changed the subject. “The intriguing thing about the myth of Eros and Psyche is that it’s not only a story about their love for each other, which of course is the prominent theme, but it also emphasizes Psyche’s personal growth and self-discovery. Her ability to battle through the misfortunes and sufferings bestowed upon her, revealed to her the strong, courageous, soulful woman that she truly was. It was because of this that the Greeks use the term Psyche to refer to both the human soul and butterflies. Psyche represents the metamorphosis of a dying human soul to that of immortality when true love fills that soul, much like when the caterpillar changes into the beautiful butterfly.”