by Erin Noelle
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 Ash’s and my 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 cords, unsure what else to say.
“Don’t be, Scarlett. But just understand why I didn’t tell you about her before, and understand 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 into 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 I probably had Mason’s cock in my mouth around the same time Dylan was balls-deep in his bestie.
He opened his eyes and saw I wasn’t even close to upset. “You’re not mad 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 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 I need to stay away from you. You are a temptation 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 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 four other numbers besides family members: Dylan, 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 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 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.
But 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 p.m.) You going to J & N’s tonight?
Luckily, he didn’t make me wait long.
Ash (7:58 p.m.) Was planning on it. You going with Dylan or Evie?
Me (8:00 p.m.) Neither. Not seeing D anymore. Evie’s at Max’s. Want to come get me?
I figured there was no reason to beat around the bush.
Ash (8:03 p.m.) I’ll be there at 9
Me (8:04 p.m.) 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 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 was 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 it wasn’t, that he was simply a friend giving me a ride to a party he happened to be going to anyway, 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, 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 farther it would fall.
“Sure, that sounds fine,” I agreed, trying not to sound 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 into 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 Ash had ordered for us. Meg let me borrow some pajama pants, so I could relax completely and not have to hang around in my jeans. We all joked around and complained about the coursework 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 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 the names Eros and Psyche were interwoven into the wings of the butterfly. I immediately thought back to the first night I met Ash and ended up spending the night in his bed. That night, we had unknowingly begun our string of Saturday night sleepovers, and it was the night he called me Psyche.
All I knew about the story of Eros and Psyche was the short summary Ash had given me when I had asked him about it before. I had never looked up the entire myth; I was afraid 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 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 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 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 had it, were something humans 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 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.”
When he stopped, he looked so deeply into my eyes that I was sure he could see my soul. I didn’t know what to say; all I could think was that I hoped he never stopped calling me butterfly. I wanted to kiss him, and I was pretty sure he wanted to kiss me, but neither of us was brave enough to make the first move, neither of us strong enough individually to put our pride and fears aside. So we continued to deny ourselves a chance at our fairy tale, and instead, we settled miserably for friendship.
“I need a drink. Do you want something?” I was somewhat relieved he found his voice as he got off the bed and headed for his door. I was the worst kind of weak—I wasn’t strong enough to put myself out there for him, for a chance at us, but I also wasn’t strong enough to detach myself from him. I was completely at his mercy to wherever he wanted our relationship to go. He would have to make the decisions; I just didn’t trust myself to.
“Yeah, I’ll take a glass of milk,” I answered with a forced smile.
“Milk, of course.” He chuckled. “Only you, butterfly.”
While he was in the kitchen, I snapped a picture of the drawing with my phone. I wasn’t sure what it was about the sketch, but it inexplicably drew me to it, an effect similar to the one its creator had on me. Whenever I looked at the picture, I would always be reminded of not only the mystical fairy tale I continued to hope for myself, but the private moments Ash and I shared in his room.
We spent the rest of the night hanging out as we typically did on Saturday nights. We had a jam session and watched a little TV. We never discussed Eros and Psyche again, nor did he ever ask me about why I wasn’t seeing Dylan anymore or what was going on with me and Mason.
I wished he wanted to talk about it. I hoped the thought of me intimate with someone else made his stomach churn like mine did when I thought about him with his multitude of girls who passed through his sheets. I had hoped that his jealous responses to seeing me with Mason would make him see he should pursue something with me, but suddenly, I wondered if it was jealousy at all that fueled his actions.
Maybe he really was just protecting me from someone he thought would hurt me… like a friend would do.
Twenty-Five
Thanksgiving dinner the following Thursday with my family had been uncomfortable at best. Even though I was speaking more and more with my parents, the tension between us that never existed before at family functions made things awkward. My parents tried their best to put on the fake “we’re a big, happy family” show, but it just made it worse in my opinion.
As soon as I could escape to Evie’s, I did, and early Friday morning, we returned to Houston. She was having Max withdrawals after only two days, and I was eager to see both Mason and Ash.
The next several weeks passed in the blink of an eye. The air outside grew colder and the foliage on the trees started to disappear. Evie and I began to prepare for our first set of finals as mid-December approached quickly. We studied, and we read, a
nd we studied, and we made charts, and we studied… I thought both of us were susceptible to a brain explosion due to the sheer amount of knowledge we attempted to shovel inside.
She saw Max as much as possible around the schoolwork, even if it meant they just got to sleep in the same bed a couple nights a week. They were so adorable together, and I loved seeing Evie happy all the time.
I continued to see Mason—and by “see” I meant do every sexual act I had ever wanted to do with a guy except sex itself—several times a week. He would pick me up and take me to dinner and we would go to the bar for a while, either for him to do a set with Jobu’s Rum or occasionally one of us would perform at open mic night. We had a hard time keeping our hands off of one another when we were together whether in public or in private. Numerous times in the middle of one of our steamy make-out sessions, I would think to myself, If he tries, I’m not going to stop him, but he never pushed the issue. I had told him I wasn’t going to have sex with him from the beginning, and for whatever reason, he respected me enough to accept that and whatever it was we had.
Mason knew how I felt about Ash. I had been forthcoming with him from the beginning. He always told me that Ash was the biggest fucking tool ever for not pursuing a relationship with me, but that he owed him a thank you, because it allowed us time to spend together. I liked Mason, more than I wanted to admit. He was brutally honest and really didn’t care what anyone else thought about him. I envied his carefree attitude and self-confidence. I loved being around him, and I loved being wrapped around him even more. It had become impossible for me to remain emotionally unattached from him, as much as I tried. It seemed that I was determined to set myself up for heartbreak no matter what.
Ash and I continued on as we had been… friends. He, along with Jess, Meg, and the crew, became regulars at Mason’s bar on Friday nights, where he often performed. I would always go over to say hello to all of them but never lingered. Ash never asked me up onstage with him again, but I couldn’t help but wonder if his song selections at times were made on my behalf. Often, the lyrics hit a little close to home, but I did my best to ignore him and focus my attention on Mason. The only time we ever mentioned the time spent at the bar when we were together Saturday nights was when he complimented me on a performance and vice versa.