Silent Flutter (The Butterfly Series) Page 7

  "Great, see you Wednesday! Good night Sweetheart." Click.

  He did it again. He called me Sweetheart, and he was way too excited about our non-date. Be careful, Quinn,Inner-me warned.It's always the nice ones that fuck you over in the end. Well, at this point it seems like they are all going to fuck me over, nice or not, I argued back with myself.Don't say I didn't warn you. It's not a date! No warning necessary.

  Once I felt like I had won the argument with Inner-me, I drifted back to sleep.

  Christmas Day passed by slowly, but affably. Even though we weren’t eight years old anymore, my sisters and I still met my parents downstairs in the living room before seven AM. The only difference, now, was that instead of Mom waiting with hot chocolate for us, she waited with mimosas or Bloody Marys; depending on the level of hung-over we were from the night before. I opted for a mimosa, thinking the Vitamin D from the orange juice could do me some good, and took it over to my place on the couch. Marin propped her seven-month pregnant self up between me and her husband while June sat cross-legged on the rug beneath us. We all exchanged our gifts and opened our stockings (Mom refused to admit that we were too old for stockings) and around noon, Dad brought in the ham he had been smoking on the pit outside. As the day crawled on, the knot in my stomach grew larger with every hour that inched closer to tomorrow night’s non-date with my strictly platonic Best Guyfriend.

  December 26, 2010:

  "What am I even supposed to wear on a non-date?" I asked my sisters as I stood in my old closet rifling through all of the clothes that I packed for the month. They both sat on my bed, leaning against the headboard as I worked through this "non-crisis" as they called it.

  "It's just dinner with a friend, it doesn't matter what you wear," June assured me.

  "I would be happy just to be able to wear something without elastic in the waistband" Marin griped, rubbing her bulging stomach.

  "Seriously you guys," I whined, "I need to wear something that says, "we are just friends and you're not getting any at the end of this. But I don't want to look like a slob either and hurt his feelings. Ugh! I wanted this Christmas break to be stress-free but it looks like my guy-stress followed me here from college."

  "Why don't you wear this," my oldest sister said, standing up and heading into my large walk-in. God I missed this closet. I could fit three of my crappy apartment closets in this one. She pulled a light pink, silk sleeveless blouse with silver embellishments lining the scoop neckline off of the hanger and handed it to me.

  "It's fifty degrees outside and you want me to go sleeveless?" I asked.

  "I have the perfect cream colored cardigan you can wear over it. Cardigans scream "you're not getting any!" Then just throw on some jeans and you'll be good to go," she added, proud of her styling skills.

  "You seem awfully nervous about this dinner. Are you sure it's a non-date and not a date date?" Marin asked skeptically.

  "Yes I'm sure!" I barked back. "You don't understand what it's like. You married the first and only guy that you ever dated. You never had to deal with all of the shit that goes along with dating." Both of my sisters eyed me curiously. "And non-dating!" I added defensively.

  "If you say so Little Sis," she chuckled, still sounding unconvinced.

  I followed my sister's advice and went with the blouse-cardigan-jeans combination and as minimal make-up as I could stand. I gave myself one last glance in the mirror: pretty but not sexy. Perfect!

  He insisted on picking me up, even though I tried my best to convince Him that we should just meet up at the restaurant. We were headed to an Italian place called Mama Rina's (one of only five restaurants in our small hometown). This was where everyone took their dates because the other four options were Hole-in-the-wall Mexican, Barbecue, Chinese Buffet and B-Bobs Kuntry Kitchen. So far our non-date seemed like anything but.

  When He pulled into the parking spot I jumped out of his truck as fast as possible so he wouldn't have time to open my door or anything else "date-like." He carried in a small, flat, square present, wrapped in green and red striped paper with a card taped to the top of it. We were seated instantly by the hostess who also took down our drink orders. It was times like these that I really wished I wasn't still four months shy of turning twenty-one, because a vodka tonic could have really taken the edge off. I didn't have any problems getting alcohol back at school because most of the guys were twenty-one or older already and I personally knew almost every bartender in town.

  The first part of dinner was filled with awkward lulls and sideways glances to avoid uncomfortable eye contact. We had been alone with each other plenty of times, but never in a setting this intimate. Once we got into our normal, friendly banter; however, the awkwardness and tension eased. It felt like I was just hanging out with my best friend, but I found myself noticing things about Him that I never had before: like the hints of caramel in his dark eyes and the sharp angles of his cheekbones. I was used to seeing Him in a baseball cap and baggy t-shirt, but that night at dinner His light brown hair was gelled and effortlessly styled and He was wearing dark jeans with a black button down shirt that hugged his lean muscles closely. His smile was warm and genuine and He made me laugh without trying too hard like most guys. I was actually really enjoying myself.

  Once the waiter removed our dishes we sat and talked a bit more. He asked me about my classes and my sister's upcoming delivery. Before the check arrived, He reached under the table and brought up the package he'd carried in. It was on the back of my mind all throughout dinner, and by this time, I honestly wanted to get this part over with. He handed it over to me and I stared down at it as I turned it over and over again in my hands.

  "Well, open it," He urged. "I promise it's just a little something."

  I tore the card from the top and ripped the rest of the wrapping off. It was a clear case holding a plain, silver CD. Written in Sharpie on the face of the CD were the words, "In case of heartache and I can't get to my phone." I looked at him skeptically, unsure of exactly what it meant.

  "Turn it over," he said as an explanation.

  I flipped the clear case over and on the back was a handwritten list of names and titles:

  1. Beyonce-Irreplaceable

  2. Kelli Pickler- Red High Heels

  3. Brooks and Dunn- Neon Moon

  4. Maroon 5- She Will be Loved

  5. Avril Lavigne- My Happy Ending

  6. Destiny’s Child- Survivor

  7. Rascal Flatts -I'm Movin' On

  8. Toby Keith- He Aint Worth Missing

  9. No Doubt- Don’t Speak

  10. Alanis Morrisette – You Oughta Know

  Tears began to well in my eyes as I finished reading the perfectly constructed list of my “go-to” songs when handling heartache or trying to block out reality. This was so much more than "a little something." I opened the card and read His written words:

  Quinn,

  I've never had a friend that meant more to me than you do, and certainly not one as beautiful. It breaks my heart every time I hear you cry over some asshole that doesn't know what he's missing, but I never want to stop being the one that you call for comfort. I love that you feel like you can come to me when you need someone to vent to, to make you laugh or to wait patiently while you cry out the heartache. I hope that you never have to feel that way again, but just know that I'll always be here to listen. Play this CD if I'm ever not there to answer your call, and know that I'll be there soon. I hate that guys have the ability to make you feel less than the amazing, perfect, beautiful woman that I know that you are.

  Never Forget: you are worth it ALL. I love you and Merry Christmas.

  I folded the card shut and looked up at Him, no longer holding back the tears. In one little Christmas card he told me all of the things that I never thought I deserved to hear. I stood from my chair and walked over to His side of the table and He stood to meet me. When I reached Him, He pulled me into His chest and wrapped His arms tightly around my quivering body. "Merry Christmas,
Quinn," He whispered in my ear and pressed a light kiss against my temple.

  "I love you, too, Merry Christmas," I replied through my tears, my face still nuzzled comfortably in His chest. This was not the first time that I had told my Best Guyfriend that I loved Him, but it was the first time that I felt my heart leap into my throat and then back down into my stomach when I said it.

  The waiter brought our check and He insisted on paying it. The Quinn that left for this non-date would have never allowed it, but I didn't even put up a fight. My thoughts were jumbled and I had no idea what this dinner meant, but I knew that He and I would never be same after that night.

  The conversation on the drive home was kept light, but a new tension, beyond "is this a date or a non-date", had filled the cab of His truck. We both could feel the monumental transformation that had taken place back at the restaurant but neither of us had the nerve to address it. When he pulled into my driveway and put his truck in Park I turned in my seat to face him.

  "Thank you. For tonight and...for everything." I looked Him straight in His caramel specked eyes. "You have no idea what this means to me," I sniffed, holding up the CD case and card.

  I turned to grab the handle on the door and He grabbed my wrist to stop me. I turned my head back to face Him and he gently kissed my flushed cheek, "you're welcome."

  Sleep did not come easily for me that night. I tossed and turned with every new thought and emotion. My heart felt heavy and confused and I had no idea what was going to happen next. I was only going to be in town until the day after New Years and I wasn't sure that I could get it all figured out by then; but I was going to try.

  December 29, 2010

  I hadn't heard from Him since our non-date three nights ago, but I could still feel the tingling sensation on my cheek from where His lips gently caressed it. My mind was so conflicted about the whole situation and I had done nothing but sit around and think about whether I should call Him or just wait it out and let Him be the first to make contact. Then, around lunchtime, in the middle of my internal To Call or Not to Call, conundrum, He texted me.

  Do you know what the group's plans are for New Year’s Eve? It wasn’t exactly what I expected. Maybe I was feeling things about our non-date that he wasn’t at all. Maybe after all His unreciprocated feelings for me, He finally gave up on being more than my Best Guyfriend. What is it that they say, timing is everything?

  I think the girls mentioned going to the downtown Omni Hotel for the night. The one on the waterfront. I'm not sure if plans are definite or not.

  Our tight group of eight had been ringing in the New Year together ever since our freshman year of high school, the start of 2005. It was the one holiday that we didn't feel obligated to spend with our parents and the one holiday that we never missed with each other. 2010; however, was spent with just the seven of us, and the same will be for 2011 because The Bastard is no longer invited. He’s had to adopt a new New Year’s plan, since all of our friends chose me in the split.

  It used to be perfect; the eight of us. There were four girls and four guys and at midnight no one was left without someone to kiss. This was the very reason, though, that I almost bailed on our group last year to hang out with my parents on our couch (Oh what fun it would have been to sit in my own living room while my parents drank themselves into oblivion and passed out hours before the Big Ball Drop). I wouldn’t dare be the only one standing there; pathetically watching all of my best friends kiss and cheers and frolic in the magic that a new year brings. But somehow my friends convinced me.

  December 31, 2009

  “Quinn!” My best friend Mary squealed on the other end of the line. “You cannot NOT come! It’s New Year’s! It’s OUR holiday! What are you going to do, sit around on the couch and watch your parents pass out before it’s even midnight?”

  She knows me too well. “But I won’t have a date,” I protested.

  “A date? Since when does anyone bring a date? That’s one of our rules remember? No dates from outside of the group unless you are married or engaged.”

  “You know what I mean. I won’t have anyone to kiss at midnight, and everyone kisses someone at midnight. I’ll feel like a total leper. Y’all just go and have fun without me.”

  “No! I will not have this! Get your cute butt in the shower and get ready, I’ll be over in twenty. Then we are going out to The Pasture where we will all celebrate New Year’s together like it’s meant to be. Like we have for the past FIVE years, Quinn Lizabeth Borders!” Mary ordered.

  “But…” I tried to interject, but Mary cut me off.

  “No buts, missy! I’ll tell you what, we can triple kiss at midnight. Me, you and whichever of the guys I’m paired up with this year.”

  “Triple kiss? That’s your solution. And what if whichever one of the guys we are paired with doesn’t want to triple kiss?”

  I felt the laughter rising as soon as it came out of my mouth. We both guffawed uncontrollably at the thought of one of our guy friends being opposed to kissing two of his hot girl friends at the same time.

  “Ok, ok. You win! I’ll see you in twenty.”

  As I took a shower that evening I thought about the real reason why I didn’t feel into the New Year’s spirit. Yes, it had a lot to do with the memories it brought back of New Years passed with The Bastard, but I also couldn’t get Judd off of my mind. It had been close to a month since our last MOS in Fool’s room, and I still couldn’t figure out why we stopped talking. I shrugged it off though; maybe things would get back to normal when we both returned from Christmas Break to start the spring semester.

  Or maybe not.

  December 31, 2010

  Did you hear? I think we are going out to The Pasture again this year. The hotel reservations fell through last minute.

  I texted Him just as soon as I knew about the Omni plan (or lack thereof). My dad’s best friend owned a piece of land about twenty minutes from town and they let us (The Borders Family) use their campground anytime we wanted, as long as we left it “cleaner than it was when we got there.” “Don’t leave cans and those damn cigarette butts all over the ground for the rodents to get 'hold of,” he would lecture anytime I called and asked him if it was free for the night. He always said yes, and was happy to let us stay out there, but he wouldn’t be a grumpy, old Southern man if he didn’t lecture me first.

  The Pasture came equipped with two double wide trailers that comfortably slept five in each (two in each full-sized bed and one on the “kitchen” table turned fold- out sofa). We, of course, found a way to cram all seven of us in one because it was just more fun that way. One night back in high school, when it was still "the eight of us" and two of the guys had girlfriends, we snuck out to The Pasture (all of us telling our parents that we were "staying at a friend’s house") with a thirty pack of Keystone Light and a half empty bottle of Parrot Bay that I "borrowed" from my parents' stash. We managed to stuff all ten of us in one of the double wides that night, so seven was no problem after that. That night in high school was also the reason for the lectures about leaving cans and butts everywhere. We weren't nearly as mature back then, nor did we have the wherewithal to pick up after ourselves. The campground was essentially trashed, but my dad's best friend promised not to rat us out to our parents if we went back to clean it all up and if the guys promised to clear out fallen brush and mow all fifty acres every other week for the entire summer. We all made good on our promises because we didn’t want to lose a prime party location.

  Last New Year’s turned out to be a success, as usual, so we didn't have reservations about spending another holiday at The Pasture. The only downside was the cable reception was shit so we had to make our own countdown to midnight by syncing the stopwatches on our cell phones.

  I started getting dressed around eight PM in my tight, dark washed jeans, an equally tight long sleeved black sweater that cut just low enough for what my oldest sister referred to as "church cleavage." I donned my feet in calf- high black suede boots a
nd accessorized with my favorite pair of distressed gold hoop earrings after spending an hour and a half flat ironing my frizzy curls until they were board straight and smooth. Then I applied enough make-up to last me through to the next morning. I could hear the guys now, “I don't know why you girls get so dressed up to go hang out in the sticks. Besides it’s just us, who are you trying to impress?"

  But that was just it: I didn't know if I was trying to impress Him or not. He had never factored in on my decision of clothing before, but tonight while choosing my wardrobe I found myself thinking, would He like me in this? I went on one non-date, received one sweet Christmas card and one peck on the cheek and my hormones were running rampant. I also kept picturing his lean yet sculpted arms wrapped around me again, except this time we were sitting by the fire in the middle of camp and no one else was around. I wonder if He'll wear another muscle-hugging button down or if He'll go back to his norm of t-shirts and cargo shorts.Get a hold of yourself, Quinn. He's your best friend and He might not feel the same about you anymore. He probably let that ship sail as soon as you started pouring your heart out about Judd to Him. And speaking of, don't you think your heart could use a break after being drug around all year by J and his never ending charm?

  I took a deep breath and one last approving look in my full length mirror and headed downstairs to wait for The Girls to come pick me up. I was the last stop on their pick-up list because my parents lived out in the country, closest to The Pasture. They pulled down our acre-long driveway at 8:45 PM. “Hello, Love!” Mary greeted when I opened the door to her backseat. When I climbed into her gray Tahoe, I was immediately handed a travel mug that smelled strongly of coconut rum and pineapple. "Do you think it's a good idea for us to be drinking and driving on New Year’s? Cops will be out everywhere tonight?" I asked, sniffing the liquid.