Page 18

Time was doing that sort of pause and halt thing again, too, and there was this odd feeling in my stomach, like…
Butterflies.
No, literally. Neil was holding up two paper butterflies. But there it was—butterflies in both the literal and figurative sense.
“Some of the girls from church taught me how to make these at lunch today, and…” He cleared his throat. “They made me think of you. You used to love butterflies… when we were seven… and…” He trailed off, looking a little unsettled and definitely unsure. Probably because of the intense stare I was currently searing him with.
It made sense—the small outline of a butterfly I had tattooed on the inside of my arm that I’d caught him staring at a handful of times. I did like butterflies, though I wasn’t sure why. Just another calming thing to look at, I guess—kind of like Neil, really. But my mind had tangled itself up in a mess of thoughts, one screaming out louder than the others:Why the hell was he giving me these?
He stretched his arm forward, attempting to hand me the paper butterflies. One black and one gray, like he knew the color of my soul or something.
I stood there, staring at his outstretched hand, mouth slightly agape.
Neil did not give butterflies.Real or imagined, goddammit. What the hell was goingonwith me?
His smile hitched higher, his hand reaching closer.
And I had the startling thought that what I was feeling for him went beyond attraction.
I think… I think Iactuallylike him,I thought to myself.Likedhim, liked him, just like Jason had called.
Ugh. Gag me and choke me in my sleep. Things were slipping way too fast into somewhere way too unchartered and unfamiliar, but the worst part? I didn’t think Neil had the slightest clue.
And I still had to tell him about the bet, but right now seemed like an increasingly stupid time to do so. I knew what I’d said, about wanting to slip inside his world, and take a nap in it, or whatever. But I’d been in a vulnerable place, okay? I hadn’t seen my brother in weeks. And he had just left me—again.Neil’s face had felt like a ray of sunshine on a dark and shitty day.
But right now, I needed to pretend like that hadn’t also been true about ten seconds ago. I needed to get my shit together and end this ridiculous charade. I needed to tip the balancing scale back in my favor.
I smacked the butterflies up and out of his hand, pretended to gag, and walked the hell away—screw Neil and his stupid butterflies—before turning right back around with a sigh, snatching them up from the ground, and walking the hell away from him for a second time.
I might have mumbled asorryand athank youwhile I was at it, but I couldn’t be sure. I was too busy screaming at myself, so loud it could’ve burst my eardrums if it hadn’t only occurred inside the bubble of my own reality—inside my own head.
I would’ve thought Neil took offense to my rudeness if it weren’t for his soft and amused laughter that scraped along the last of my sanity. Laughter that tattooed itself right into my brain.
I was well aware that I probably looked like a complete psycho. I knew I felt like one at the moment. But I was who I was, and I wasn’t going to apologize for it. And Neil certainly didn’t seem to mind, his smile still fixed firmly in place as he sat down at his desk across the room from me.
I felt my own lips twitching, fighting the pull of a smile.
The two paper butterflies sitting on my desk sobered me right back up. I spun the black one around in circles with the tip of my finger. Two perfectly folded pieces of paper; two small butterflies. I kind of loved them.
Except—they didn’tfeellike butterflies anymore. Not really. No, they looked more like two death moths if you asked me. A bad omen; a warning that if I allowed my feelings to crawl any deeper it could very well be the death of me.
Dramatic much?
Nope.
Never.
I made it through the rest of my day. Without any further dramatics, thank you very much. Just the sure and steady success of ignoring Neil’s attention through three classes and five hours of threading film through fifteen projectors.
It was ten p.m. and the last movies had been started for the night. I just had to wait for them to end, shut down all the machines and sound towers, and then I could head home.
I made my way downstairs since all there was left to do was wait.
Jax was in the back room, restocking the snack shack. I pulled one of the soda nozzles out of a bucket of warm soapy water and rinsed it off in the sink, reattaching it to the Coke. I filled my cup up halfway and then moved the nozzle to the Sprite, filling it the rest of the way.
I was twisting my lid back on when Jax slid into my periphery. “Interesting choice of soda flavors there, my friend,” he said.
“Whatever could you possibly mean?” I blinked at him dramatically, pressing a hand to my chest like the smartass I was, my tone backing up the sentiment.