Лаура Миллер - My Butterfly

Then, suddenly, a loud thud forced both of our eyes to the river where a stream of reds, whites and blues were already sprinkling the night sky and lighting up the bluffs opposite us in the distance.

Julia giggled and pressed her hips against mine. I pulled her closer and watched the next firework race to the sky and then explode into tiny, little pieces of light. Jules squealed, and I felt her arm squeeze tighter around my side as she nestled her head deeper into the muscles in my chest. My eyes fell onto her face, and I smiled and noticed a piece of her long hair resting on her cheek. I picked up the strand and then gently laid it back down onto her bare shoulder. It was hard to just simply watch the fireworks because I couldn’t stop thinking about what I wanted to tell her — what I had wanted to tell her for a long time now. Suddenly, there was another loud shriek, followed by a big thud and a colorful burst of light in the sky again. Jules looked up at me with wide eyes and a happy smile, and I just couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“I love you, Jules,” I said, in almost a whisper.

She was quiet, and her smile was starting to fade, but her eyes were still on me, still locked in mine.

My heart sped up. Say something, anything. I watched her eyes trace a path in mine. I wondered if she had even heard me. But then, I saw her lips fall slightly open.

“I love you too,” she whispered.

Her eyes smiled before her lips did. Then, she returned her head to my chest and her attention to the lights still dancing in the night’s sky.

My heart was pounding. I bet she could feel its thuds. I wanted to shout something, but I didn’t want to scare her or cause her to move from the exact place she was resting on my chest. So this was what I love you felt like. I started to replay all the days and all the moments and all the memories I had of Julia Lang. My grin widened as I realized that each moment involved me being in complete awe of her and her not even knowing it. God, I loved this girl, and I bet she still didn’t even know how much.

“Will,” I heard her soft voice say then.

“Hmm?” I asked.

“Will you sing me another song?”

“What about?” I asked.

“About us,” she said.

I could hear the smile in her voice.

“Okay,” I said, taking a second to think.

I gathered the words and then whispered into her ear another melody, but this time, it was soft and low:

She squeezed her arms tighter around my side when my lips stopped singing her song.

“It’s perfect,” she said.

I watched for a second as her eyelashes followed the path the fireworks made from the barge in the river to the heavens. Then, I kissed the top of her head, pulled her hips closer to mine and smiled.

I heard a knock at the door just as I was signing my name to the last page of paperwork.

“Come on in,” I said.

I heard the door push open, and I took a quick glance back.

“Hey, babe,” I said, setting down the pen and flipping through the healthy stack of pages.

“Hey,” I heard her say, making her way over to me.

And within seconds, I felt her arms wrap around my neck and her weight press down onto my shoulders.

“Whatcha’ workin’ on?” she asked.

My hands left the pages and found a spot to rest on her arms, and I reached up and kissed her.

“Oh, just filling out forms for the fire department,” I said. “Even if you’re a volunteer, it requires an autobiography, evidently.”

I heard her take a deep breath as she pushed off of my shoulders.

“Can I have some water?” she asked.

I turned in my chair and watched her make her way into the kitchen and pull out a glass from the cabinet. She filled the glass with water from the faucet and took a drink. I smiled at her when her eyes finally met mine again, but her lips only slightly turned up.

“What’s wrong, Jules?” I asked.

She took another deep breath, then set the glass down onto the counter and walked back over to me. My eyes followed her as she fell into the chair next to mine and began to study my face.

“You really want to be a firefighter?” she asked.

Her question made me pause. Yesterday, when I had told her that I had driven by the fire station and the thought had just sort of overtaken me, she seemed happy for me.

“Yeah,” I said. “I mean, I can’t believe I hadn’t thought about it before. At least, then I could have gotten Counselor Old Fart off my back a lot sooner.”

She seemed to be tracing the lines in my eyes, until she eventually nodded her head.

“It’s just so…,” she started.

I furrowed my brows and tilted my head.

“So?” I asked.

I watched as she took another deep breath.

“So what, Jules?” I asked again. “You seemed fine with it yesterday.”

“I know,” she said. “It’s just so dangerous, you know?”

My eyes settled on hers, and I started to smile.

“Jules, it’s not that dangerous,” I said. “And, you know, it’s me. Jules, you know I’m not the type of guy who can sit in an office all day. Hell, I can hardly sit through a class.”

A soft, guarded laugh fell from her lips, but then her smile went limp again.

“It’s just…,” she started and then stopped.

My eyes stayed on her expression, even though I couldn’t read even the slightest part of it. Her eyes, on the other hand, were turned down toward the floor. Then, it finally dawned on me. I sat back in my chair and took a deep breath.

“It’s just that future lawyers who are future presidents don’t date future firefighters,” I said, crossing my arms.

I felt my expression turning cold, as her eyes quickly shot up at me, and her sad stare seemed to grow annoyed.

“That’s what it really is, isn’t it?” I asked in a firm tone.

She was quiet.

I knew it. I should have known. If I could be a lawyer or a doctor, maybe I would, maybe I wouldn’t. But I knew how the world worked even so, and I should have known that girls with ambitions like Julia Lang didn’t stick around long with guys like me.

I watched as her eyes narrowed into little, cat-like slits.

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“Just say it, Jules,” I said. “You want a doctor or a lawyer or some senator or someone who’s smart enough to cure cancer and who makes six figures and who can take you to fancy parties and buy you everything you want.”

I paused for a second and swallowed hard before continuing.

“Well, that’s just not gonna happen with me, Jules,” I said. “That’s not in my stars. I’m just a small-town, country boy, and that’s all I’ll ever be.”

Then, I pushed up fast from my chair. Its wooden legs scooted across the floor hard and made a loud, unpleasant sound. Her eyes were still narrowed on me and were now piercing my thick skin. I kept my own eyes on her for a second longer, and then I darted toward the back door and pushed hard through it.

My feet hit the wooden porch boards, and I stopped and ran my fingers through my messy hair as I took a deep breath. The air was cold and merciless. It stung my throat and lungs, but after a second, I forced the breath back out and watched its fog leave a trail from my lips and eventually disappear. Then, I walked over to the railing, doubled over it and cupped my face in my hands.

I couldn’t even remember a time that I didn’t want this girl. How could I, in all that time, never have thought that I wasn’t the one who she would want?

I brought my fingers to my lips and took another deep, cool breath, and suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

I stood up fast, turned and squared up to Julia.

“It’s not that,” she whispered.

I searched her expression — her eyes and her lips. Nothing I found on her was angry. It all seemed sad, and suddenly, I felt like a jerk.

“I’m so sorry, Jules,” I said.

I nudged her arms, willing her closer to me. She hesitated but then gave in and fell into my chest.

“Say that you forgive me,” I whispered low and near her ear.

She felt so small in my arms.

“Forgive me, Jules,” I said.

I squeezed her tighter, then pulled away and lowered my face to hers and rested a hand gently against each side of her face.

“Say that you forgive me,” I said to her again, bringing my forehead to rest on hers.

I watched as her mouth tried to turn up a little.

“I forgive you,” she whispered.

Her words made me smile, and instantly, I pressed my lips passionately against hers. The first thought of losing her was the most terrifying thought I had ever had. And her words had saved me from it.

When our kiss broke, I caught her gaze in mine.

“It’s not that, Will,” she said in a soft voice.

I nodded and brought her head to my chest again.

“I know,” I softly said. “I know.”

I pulled her closer to me and caressed the strands of her long hair.