Becoming A Butterfly (The Butterfly Chronicles) (10 page)

“
I was dying to see you and hating the fact that I couldn’t, but then I thought, what’s the next best thing? Besides what else am I going to do on a Saturday night?”

“
Well, here I am in the flesh.” My voice began to shake, betraying my nerves. “So what do you think?” I held up my hands in a shrug. He gave me a big cheesy smile, and we both laughed. After we settled down, he gave me a tour of his bedroom. It was weird seeing it from that angle, and I could see the outline of my bedroom in the background. I was really glad I had left my room. I hoped he didn’t realize I wasn’t returning the favor with a tour of my room. If he did, he didn’t let on. He told me about his day, and I told him bits and pieces of mine. The voice of my guilty conscience whispering in the back of my head drowned out his words; it sounded a lot like Jade telling me Henry deserved to know the truth.

“
So, my friend Stacey has this pool party every year Memorial Day weekend,” he rambled. I nodded, appreciating the fact that I didn’t have say or type anything; he could see my body language. “I was thinking you could come up and go to it with me if you don’t already have plans.” Stacey’s party was a month away. He had a lot of faith in us if he was planning that far ahead.

“
I’ll see what I can work out.”

“
I know what that means. Why are you ashamed of me?” He looked down again.

“
I’m not ashamed of you; it’s just—.” I looked up at the corner where the walls met the ceiling. The plaster was cracked from the house settling. I guess my parents missed that in the renovations. I took a deep breath, and looked at him directly, knowing I’d never have the nerve to look him in the eye if we really were face to face. “It’s just, that you make me really nervous.” His face suddenly lit up.

“
Me too! I thought it was just me.” He threw his hands up in exasperation. Embarrassed, I covered my face and laughed. I peaked at him through my fingers, and he was laughing too.

“
I’m glad we did this,” he said after we had settled down.

“
Me too,” I smiled.

On Sunday, I awoke to the smell of pancakes filling the house. I rose groggily and stumbled down the stairs. Mom, Dad, and Lana were already eating stacks of deliciousness.

“
Hi, sleepyhead,” Mom smiled at me.

“
Morning,” I mumbled as I sat down at the table. While I fixed my plate, my parents told us all the latest on their friends Bill and Carol.

“
What are your plans for today?” Dad asked. Lana had a school project to work on, and I told them about my plans with Chase.

“
Well, dishes first,” Mom said, as she cleared her place. We both groaned in unison.

“
Not up for discussion.” Dad followed Mom’s lead. They kissed goodbye, and Mom was out the door.

“
I’ll wash; you rinse,” I said, as we cleared the rest of the table. Lana ignored me and stacked plates. I went to the sink and began to fill it. She set the stack of plates beside me, and I began washing. She didn’t even roll up her sleeves as she began running water over the sudsy plates as I stacked them in the other sink. She was wearing the black shirt I’d let her borrow and was getting it soaking wet. “HEY! Push up your sleeves!” I shrieked, as I reached for her arm and pushed up her sleeve. There were little red scratches across the top of her arm as if she’d dug her nails in and scratched. “Wha—”

“
It’s nothing; I fell at school the other day.”

“
And your nails dug into your arm?” She looked down at her arm and then back at me.

“
No, I fell against a tree, and it scratched me.” She watched me as I gaped at her arm.

“
You need to be more careful.” She nodded and looked relieved. “I guess that’s proof you’re my sister, getting a little klutzy, huh?” I asked, bumping her with my shoulder. She exhaled and continued rinsing.

After my chores were over, I went to Chase’s house a little after noon. I did as he requested, drove down the incline behind the garage, and parked by his car. I knocked on the sliding glass door. The basement was dark except for the natural light seeping in through the door. I stood there for a few minutes and knocked again, a bit louder. I was about to go upstairs and ring the doorbell when the door off the kitchenette opened. Chase came out in gym shorts and no shirt, his hair a matted mess on top of his head. I avoided his eyes because he looked a bit pissed. I avoided looking at his smooth, pale, well-defined chest because something weird was happening to my stomach each time I glanced at him. He unlocked the door and slid it open. He didn’t say a word to me; he just went to the kitchen and opened his refrigerator. I stepped in quietly and slid the door closed behind me.

“
You said whenever was fine.” I defended myself, feeling a little bad for waking him up. He glared at me as he poured milk into a glass and added Hershey’s chocolate syrup.

After he stirred his chocolate milk and took a big drink, he said, “I went to Columbus last night; it was a late night.”

“
I wish I would have known. I’d have let you sleep in.” I sat at a barstool at the counter and took out my laptop.

“
Don’t do that here; let’s go to my room.” He took his glass, and I followed him through the door. It was a large room with crème walls, a desk in the corner, a queen-size bed centered between two expensive end tables, and a matching dresser along the wall. A large flat panel TV on the wall tied it all together. I was intimidated by his room.

“
Are you rich?” I asked dumbly. I could tell he had money when I was there on Friday. And here I was being a nimrod.

“
No. My dad is,” he said, as he went to his dresser and opened a drawer. He removed a plain white T-shirt from a drawer full of them and put it on. I was relieved to feel my stomach settle a little bit. “You can set up there,” he said, pointing to his desk. His room was neat and organized. I felt as though he was letting me see a side of him that no one knew existed. I could think of about ten different girls who would be crushing on him something fierce if they knew he lived here. He’d kept this part of his life completely secret. It didn’t hurt that he only wore Levis and basic tees. But I imagined they weren’t Fruit of the Loom tees. I sat up my laptop and began showing him the website. It was almost done. I was relieved that we had made such progress. He wanted to make
a few changes, and I noted them. I went to work on the tweaks while he left the room for a while. Then he returned and began working on his computer beside me. He had added the guitar to the track and was now mixing it. We worked silently for a bit, but then I took a break to check my email and surf the web. I watched him out of the corner of my eye; he worked steadily on his song.

“
So what really happened? I mean; why did you move here?” I asked, turning to face him, my legs propped under me in the chair.

“
What did you hear?” He feigned interest momentarily but returned to his program.

“
Kicked out of school or lifetime ban from I.U.—both really.”

“
Nothing so glamorous; my mom got a boyfriend, and he didn’t like me.” He shrugged. “My dad and I get along. He supports my music, and he lets me work in his shop, so it’s better anyway.”

“
He’s Dooley?” I asked, surprised.

“
No, he bought it from Dooley three years ago. He never changed it because it has that small town feel and has been Dooley’s for like thirty years.” He shrugged.

“
Do you mind that people talk about you like that behind your back and spread rumors?” I asked, feeling lonely for him.

“
I could care less as long as I don’t have to talk to them.” He laughed but then he stared at his computer screen, and I sensed there was a bit of truth to that statement.

“
You don’t like people very much, do you?” I asked, returning to my own screen.

“
I don’t see why everyone has this desire to be accepted or even be involved with each other.”

“
You’re lonely, aren’t you?” I asked before I thought. My filter was officially broken.

“
I have friends, but I have no use for fake people who use you.” He leaned back, ruffled
his hair, and laced his fingers.

“
Says the boy who is blackmailing me,” I snarked.

“
Yes, but I like you for you, not for who you pretend to be,” he said with amusement, but then his tone darkened.

“
Farrah is only going to hurt you. She is everything you aren’t. You really should get out while you still can.” His eyes locked on mine. I felt as though I couldn’t hide the truth from him if I tried. Like if he asked me a question, I had to tell him the truth. I finally tore my eyes away from him and looked blankly at my computer screen.

“
What do you think about this?” I asked, changing the subject. He leaned over and analyzed my arrangement. He smelled like fabric softener, or his shirt did. Nervously, I began explaining all the small details of what I’d changed. My eyes met his again. He was watching me closely, and I could feel his scrutiny of me.

“
You and Jade are coming with me to Columbus next Saturday for that photo shoot,” he announced, leaning away from me. I looked back at my screen. Could I object? I didn’t think I had a choice; instead, I chose to whine.

“
Do I have to go?” I did my best imitation of Lana.

“
Yes, Farrah has to get pictures with us. She’s crazy popular.” He returned to his song. I cursed Farrah under my breath. He smirked, obviously hearing my rant.

“
It’s weird that I’m so popular in Columbus,” I said.

“
Oh, she’s popular because everyone knows she’s not real and is dying to see how it all plays out. That’s the only reason no one has busted her out,” he smirked.

“
Oh,” I said, feeling stupid. Of course they would know I didn’t really attend their school. “How did you figure it out? Was it at the movies?”

“
That sealed it for me, but after seeing you without your glasses, I began to think you looked familiar. Then when I got home and logged onto Status Quo, I saw it was you. I mean, Farrah looks just like you. I may be more observant than most though.” He shrugged. “And people will only see what they want to see.”

“
Good to know.” He leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head again and looked at me for a long moment rattling my nerves again.

“
Wanna get out of here and get something to eat?” he asked, rotating in his chair.

“
Sure.” He rose and went into his bathroom and shut the door. I finished up what I was working on and by the time I was done, he emerged freshly showered, dressed, and ready to go. He put on his black biking boots, and I rose.

“
Where do you want to go?” I asked, following him up the stairs. He shrugged, and as we entered the kitchen, he immediately opened another door, leading me down a couple steps to the garage. He pressed a button that raised the third garage door and walked over to a couple of motorcycles in the corner. One of them was his. I stopped short as I put together what he was planning.

“
I’m not riding on that thing,” I said.

“
I have a helmet for you and everything.” He reached under a work counter and produced a second black helmet. “Come on,” he motioned, and I would have held my ground, but there was something in the way he was looking at me, like he trusted me, not necessarily the other way around—vital if I were to ride on his bike. I felt as though at some point today, we were bonding, becoming friends. And this was no longer a forced relationship; it was beginning to feel real. I took out a ponytail holder, my phone, ID, and the little bit of money I had left in my purse and stuck them in the back pocket of my jeans. Then I sat my purse on the counter, pulled my hair into a ponytail at the base of my neck as I stalked over to where he was backing his bike out of the garage. He handed me the helmet. I put it on, and he smiled at me. He started up the bike. It was really loud, and I cringed a little.

“
Climb on.” He motioned to where I needed to put my feet. I followed his instruction, and once I was on, he twisted the handle to rev the engine.
Was I ready for this?

Chapter 13

“
Hold on,” he yelled as he slowly took off. He didn’t have to tell me; my arms were wrapped so tightly around his waist I wondered if he was having trouble breathing. He took the country road at a modest speed and when I realized he was a good rider, I relaxed a little. I still buried my head behind his back, and I felt him rumble with laughter. The air rushed around us, and I watched the scenery fly by in colors of greens, yellows, and browns too fast for my eyes to register. By the time we made it to the family-owned Italian restaurant, I was totally comfortable on the back of his bike. I leaned with him when he turned and
relaxed at the stop lights. We went inside and put our names on the list for seating.