Silent Flutter (The Butterfly Series) Page 3

  "Not girls. Girl." he answered back with a wink. I was right; it’s definitely sexy when he winks!

  "And what if I didn't want to be tagged, Judd Walker Vaughn?" I tried to ask in my snootiest, most convincing voice.

  "Oh I think you do, Quinn..." He dragged the N sound out like he was waiting for me to finish his sentence.

  "Quinn Lizabeth Borders, if you must know." He held out his hand for me to take in mine and handed me the marker.

  "Well, go on. Mark me Q E B."

  "Actually it's Q L B, it Lizabeth not E-Lizabeth." He stood there for a moment as if processing this.

  "Sexy," was all he said, still holding out his hand.

  "If I tag you will you get your hand out of my face?" I asked, pretending to be annoyed.

  "Yes, but I know you like being this close to me. I should keep a small net handy for all of those butterflies fluttering inside you right now.” How'd he know? Does he have them too? Do guys even get butterflies? As if reading my mind he tilted my chin up with his index finger so that I was looking right into his eyes again, now darker than they were before in this dimly lit hallway, and answered my unspoken question, "Yes, I've got them too," through that shiver-inducing smile.

  I took hold of his hand and drew on the letters QLB and finished them off with a surrounding heart, mirroring the one on the top of my hand. He looked down at his palm and then back up at me, straight into my eager eyes. I just stood there, staring at his full lips, forcing myself not to lift up on my toes and take them between my teeth like I so badly wanted to.

  I was paralyzed by what would come next and terrified that nothing would; afraid that he'd just walk away with that sexy grin on his face, but also scared of this overpowering want (or need) that I was feeling for this essential stranger. My head, or Inner-me, was yelling at me to run and my heart pounded deafeningly in my ears; reminding me of how it was unprepared for another inevitable break.

  But this time I chose to silence both my head and my heart so that I could listen carefully to the silent flutter of wings.

  He seized both sides of my neck with each of his hands and gently yet firmly pulled my lips up to his. At first it was a light whisper of a kiss but after only seconds we both grew hungrier for the other. Our tongues frantically sought out the other and his hands tangled in my long, curly hair. I sucked his lower lip between my teeth like I had envisioned only moments before. It was better than I had imagined. Our mouths moved together like it was a matter of life or death and his body pressed hard up against mine and mine even harder into the wall behind me.

  I was about to grab his hand, now temporarily tattooed with my initials, and drag him into the closest bedroom when Inner-me spoke up again.Quinn, if you’re going to ignore all of my advice about falling for this guy, at least listen to me when I say, leave something to be desired! Inner-me was right. This didn’t feel like another game or another Conquest. I pressed my hands flat up against his hard, sculpted chest causing him to pull away slightly. "What's wrong?" Judd asked, breathless and with a hint of worry.

  "Trust me, nothing's wrong. That's just as far as this is going tonight," I teased with confidence. He stepped back to put some air between us and smiled that flawless smile.

  "Tonight? So there will be more of this to come?" He asked hopefully.

  "We'll see, Judd Walker Vaughn. If you play your cards right," I replied, throwing his signature wink and grin back at him. He grabbed me with one thick hand on the lower curve of my back and pulled me in for another quick, lascivious kiss before letting me go to walk back out into the party.

  It took over a week of showering and hand washing for my Sharpie tattoo of Judd’s initials to fade from my skin. I would catch myself staring at in the middle of class or late at night while lying in bed, tracing the letters and the heart over and over again with the pad of my index finger. I was shaken a bit by the strange pang of sadness that I felt when the last trace of it finally and completely disappeared.

  There were more parties at The Neighbors in the coming weeks and months and I made it a point to attend every single one. Each one went exactly as the last: Judd and I would play our "pretend not to notice the other" game for the first half an hour and then eventually he’d pull me into some new hidden place for a make-out session, or MOS, as we called them.

  November 28, 2009: MOS in the shadows along the fence in the backyard.

  December 8, 2009: MOS up against his big, white Ford truck on the street.

  December 14, 2009: MOS in the backseat of his big, white Ford truck.

  Christmas Break

  January 19, 2010: MOS in Our Hallway again.

  January 24, 2010: MOS at his impeccable townhouse.

  February 10, 2010: MOS in the garage by the keg while no one was around.

  February 20, 2010: MOS in the master bedroom before Fool walked in and caught us.

  But making out was always as far as it went. Each occasion the Sessions got a little bit longer and hands wandered a little bit further, but for the most part it remained PG-13, and I loved every thrilling second of it. I had never been so turned on just by the mere thought or action of kissing someone; kissing someone without it being a means to an end. The fact that we hadn’t gone “all the way,” like I had with so many others, and I’m sure he had as well, was what made it so exhilarating. The sexual tension was practically palpable between us and just the touch of his hand to my cheek or a look from across the room sent shivers deep down inside of me. That kind of tension vanishes once the mystery and wonder of what the actual carnal act will be like and feel like because you no longer have to wonder and the anticipation and build up is gone.

  The more into baseball season that the Mad Dogs got, the fewer parties they threw and those parties were almost always the backdrop for the MOS. By the time April came along it was as if the entire baseball team had picked up and moved from the city. The guys traveled a lot on the weekends and Coach kept a pretty tight leash on them during the week. They had late practices and mandatory tutorial sessions to make sure they remained above a 2.5 GPA for the remainder of the school year. Judd and I talked less and less and saw each other even less than that. My sexual frustration was at its peak by May.

  Months had passed since our last MOS in Fool’s bedroom when I received a text from JWV:Hey Quinn Lizabeth. Hope you're daydreaming about Our Hallway right now. I know I am ;)

  I was in shock to hear from him after so many weeks of silence. I knew they were on the road for an out of state tournament at that time, and I couldn’t believe he was texting me; it meant he was thinking about me.

  Finally I replied with:Oh, you'd like that wouldn't you JWV? As much as y'all have been gone these days, my daydreams seem more like distant memories.

  The conversation ended there. Just when I let the butterflies invade. What was the point of that? To remind me of how much I already think about him, and Our Hallway? Well, it worked.

  I didn’t see or hear from him again for almost three weeks after that cryptic text message, but my every thought was consumed by Judd. I would catch myself feverishly searching for any trace of him on campus. My pace between buildings slowed as I walked from class to class in a trance; hoping that I would accidently run into him on the way to one of his classes; but I never did. My breath would catch every time I heard the sound of boots clomping on a nearby sidewalk; only to be let out it in a rush of disappointment when I discovered he wasn’t the source of the sound. The Girls called me out on it a couple of times: “Q, what’s up with you? You’re like always in a daze and you’re always looking around all nervous like someone’s after you or something.” But that was just it, no one was after me.

  Finally, late in May, the Mad Dogs had a free weekend from traveling and baseball all together which meant The Neighbors were throwing a party. I was so wound up with anxiety and the anticipation of seeing Judd that I didn’t think about the possibility of awkwardness or worse; nothingness.

  May 25, 2010

>   The moment I pulled my Malibu into my spot in front of the house by the curb I could see him standing in the garage among a group of other baseball players. Butterflies. I saw him glance at me as I put my car into park and slid out of the driver’s seat, careful not to reveal my purple, lace thong beneath my mini skirt. He watched me from the corner of his eye as I made my way up the sidewalk to the front door.

  I avoided going in through the garage; I needed time to compose myself before talking to him after all of this time. I roamed the house aimlessly making hollow chatter with nameless party goers just trying to pass the time before I’d finally get to talk to him. I took more smoke breaks than usual hoping he’d come outside just to lecture me about the dangers of nicotine. But he never did. After about an hour, he finally came in from the garage and sidled up next me in the kitchen as I leaned against the counter; Rum and Diet Coke in hand. “Hey Stranger,” he said with a wink upon approaching me, and then he leaned his back against the counter mirroring my stance. Our arms touched ever-so-lightly that I doubt he could even feel it. I could.

  “Hey New Guy,” I returned his wink.

  “After all this time, I’m still New Guy?”

  “Well I haven’t seen you in months, so it’s like I’m meeting you all over again,” I smiled playfully at him.

  “I’d do it all again,” he looked me in the eyes now. Serious and genuine. We skipped over our usual witty repartee and dove head first into the pool of sexual tension. How do I respond to that? And what exactly does he mean, “He’d do it all again?” The MOS? The Sharpie Tattoos?

  “What exactly?” I let the question slip from my mind and off my tongue.

  “All of it. Our Hallway. My truck. Outside behind the fire…” he trailed his fingers down the bare skin of my arm; starting with my shoulder and lightly caressing his way down to my forearm with an intense gleam in his eyes. His light touch sent an electric current straight through my body; I thought it might knock me over onto the sticky kitchen floor.

  “No need to start over,” I responded breathlessly, “when we can just pick up from where we left off and move forward,” I winked. I was being blatantly obvious in my hint that I was ready for things to go further. I wanted, no needed, to relieve my pent up frustration, and I was sure he did too. I lifted on my toes to touch my lips to his, but suddenly, he made a switch. He slid to the left, away from me, slightly and the penetrating look in his eyes was gone. It was replaced with something entirely different…panic. His words weren’t dripping with innuendo and charm, he wasn’t making full eye contact and his shoulders stiffened next to me.

  “I’m gonna go back into the garage. I promised the guys a game of darts earlier, so I’ll see ya later, K?” He turned his back to me and began to walk off. It was over as quickly as it started. The chills running the length of my arm from where his fingers just left a hot trail hadn’t even had time to completely subside yet.

  “Ummm, K?” I responded, but it was more like a question. He turned his head to look back over his shoulder at me and smiled before turning the corner into the laundry room that led to the garage. His smile was off though, stiff. It wasn’t his signature, make-you-melt smile.

  What? What did I say to make him bolt? Was it because I said I wanted us to move forward? Maybe he though I meant move forward in our relationship. But I didn’t mean that. I meant move forward as in progress to an advanced level of sexual activity. Didn’t I? We didn’t talk for the rest of the evening. I wanted to get him alone again so that I could define what I meant by “forward,” but it was like he did everything in his power to make sure there were always others around. I felt jilted. Rejected. Dismissed. And worst of all, disheartened. I was completely baffled by his actions, or lack thereof.

  After months of silence the thick sexual tension still remained between us; that was certain, and I was fully aware that everyone around us could see and probably feel it as well, but the MOS simply came to a halt after that puzzling reunion in May. We would flirt at parties and each of us was constantly looking around the room hoping to make eye contact with the other, but something had changed in that one, brief conversation. For Judd anyways.

  I spent half of my time that spring and summer trying to distract myself from thoughts about Judd. That plan would rupture; however, when I would see in him the Student Union Building (The Sub) eating lunch with the team and new Groupies hanging all over them. Of course, jealousy reared its ugly head and I would end up taking my lunch to-go, back to my crappy apartment.

  The other half of my time was spent bitching to my girlfriends about Judd and trying to figure out where it all changed. They always said the same thing, "Quinn, he's a baseball player. Emphasis on the PLAYER part. Those guys don't get tied down with just one girl; you know that better than anyone." Another would chime in, “Yeah, and it probably just started freaking him out that it was always YOU that he was mugging down with at parties. Besides, I heard the he’s been with a different Groupie every weekend that they aren’t on the road.” Ouch. I did not need to hear that. Why was I giving up on my Conquests while he was banging anything with tits?

  I knew they were right. But I also knew that I never gave him any indication that I wanted him to be "tied down" to me, so I wasn't sure why he distanced himself. We never even went on an actual date, unless you count the one time I went to his not-so-crappy townhouse to cook him dinner. This, obviously, was a disaster so we spent the rest of the night trying to salvage the mess I made which resulted in Judd ordering a pizza. By the time the pizza got there it was already late and I had an eight o’clock exam the next morning so I kissed him goodbye-- for thirty minutes-- and headed back home.

  I went through a mental checklist of all of the times that we were together to make sure there wasn’t something that I was missing that caused him to back off: I wasn’t clingy, I didn’t nag him, I never initiated the MOS, I never called unless he texted first, I never let him see my jealousy over the Lunch Groupies. What was with the silent treatment? This is why you never stayed beyond sunrise with the Conquests, too much drama and unnecessary angst!

  ONE STEP FORWARD…

  August 24, 2010

  The Neighbors were throwing a "School Sucks, Drink Up" bash to mourn school starting up again. I got dressed in my tightest distressed jeans and low cut black tank top. Underneath I wore a matching light pink and black, lacy thong and bra set. This was something I hadn't done since my last Conquest because in the most recent previous months I knew there was no chance of anyone seeing my underwear, because Judd and I always remained over-the-clothes during our MOS. But tonight was going to be different, junior year would be different. The old Quinn was back in business and on the hunt for new prey.

  I pulled my car up to the curb in front of their house around 9:15 that night. I didn't usually get to parties this early, but I was so full of sexual momentum that I got ready much faster than usual. There were only about ten people in the house so far and about ten more out in the backyard. I made my way up the driveway and into the garage to pump myself a beer from the keg when I heard, "Quinny, lookin’ HOT tonight! You wear that sexy little number for me?" The voice came booming into the garage through the back door of the house. I turned to face the already drunken Fool leaning on the door jam.

  "Not if your life depended on it," I hissed back, finishing it off with a playful smile so I would send a message but without hurting his feelings. I stood around the keg with Fool and his roommates when people came barreling in by the truck loads after about half an hour. I was trying to find courage in the bottom of my red, plastic beer cup to start up the Five Steps with a new Conquest that night. It had been a while since I'd played the game, but I was sure I was still the "Quinn" of them.

  For some reason though, I found fault in every guy that I completed Step Two with. I would pick out a guy and make my illustrious, sultry eye contact but then something would stop me. His teeth are not quite white enough. His tennis shoes are too dirty. His skin is too pale
. His t-shirt is too baggy. There was something wrong with all of them, but I was a girl on a mission. Inner-me was giving a whole new pep talk tonight, Quinn, you WILL stop thinking about Judd Walker Vaughn. You will go home with someone with a penis between their legs! You Will wake up tomorrow in a strange bed, next to a hot guy, only to be followed by your mad dash out of there before the sun or The Conquest rises!

  Around midnight my vision began to blur a bit, but I don't think I was actually drunk. I kept setting down half empty cups all over the house, not feeling the elation like everyone else. Am I getting tired? I wondered. But it’s still so early? Getting back into The Game was more exhausting than I remembered. I was also drained by the continual search for Judd every time I heard a nearby Groupie giggle, even though he had yet to be seen. But why would he miss a baseball party? He never missed them.No! You are Not disappointed Quinn Lizabeth. Naked Randoms! Naked Randoms! In the middle of slutty Inner-me's rant my phone buzzed in my back pocket. Flashing across the screen were the letters JWV and Incoming Call. He never called and it’s been months. If he wanted to talk he always sent a text. Hesitantly I answered, "Hey Judd." I hated that my voice was shaking.