Chasing Butterflies (23 page)

“Your muscles have gotten soooo big,” she says, giving my bicep a quick squeeze.

“Yeah…I guess.”

“Ella,” calls one of her friends, “come and see this.”

We both look up as one of her friends waves a glossy magazine at her. “Excuse me,” Ella says, walking over to her.

I can’t help but watch her as she peers at the page, noticing the shock that flashes across her face. Her eyes flick over to me, and then she covers her mouth and whispers something to one of her friends. I feel myself frowning as I watch her, wondering what she’s saying that she’s doesn’t want me to know. I try to look at the cover of the magazine, but the only thing I see is that it looks more like a magazine for guys rather than girls.

I decide to ignore her and her silly friend, since they both still act like they’re nineteen. I turn my attention back to Jonny and the way he laughs at something Katie says. I like Katie. She was in the year above us at school, and though she was always one of the popular girls, she was also one of the quieter ones. Not like Ella or my sister. Katie was good at everything, but not in-your-face good, and I like how good she is for Jonny. I like that all I ever seem to hear is him laughing when he’s with her. They’re good together.

“Look at this,” says Ella, throwing the magazine in my lap. “Can you believe it? That weird girl that used to live here. The one that killed her mother and her grandmother graduated from Westminster University in some arty class or something with one of the highest scores for her whole course.”

I snatch the magazine from her, flicking through the pages in search of a girl in her cape and gown. “Where?”

I stop suddenly when I see a close-up of Yara’s face and an image of her lying upside down with her legs up a wall, her ankles crossed. She’s hardly wearing any clothes, but the photos aren’t trashy or tarty. “Why is she in here?” I flip the magazine over, noticing the cover. “I don’t get it.”

“She’s been voted the sexiest graduate too. That’s why she’s in there. Got paid a load of money for a photo shoot, and it says she’s been offered loads more modelling contracts.” She flips the page over and then points to some writing. “There, look. It says a modelling agency has said she’ll earn more money for her face than she’ll earn from her degree. They’ve said her art is exceptionally beautiful, just like her.” She scoffs as if it’s the most untruthful thing she’s ever read.

“She
is
exceptionally beautiful,” I tell her, staring at the images of Yara that stare back at me. The pictures are in black and white, but they’ve been photo-shopped so that her eyes are their true colour. You can’t help but be drawn into them. Into her. “When was this printed?”

“In the summer,” she says, sounding bored. “You know what it’s like in this village. It takes six months for us to get stuff that the rest of the world gets.”

So she’d graduated from university and had been offered modelling jobs when I saw her a few weeks ago?
Why the hell was she still dancing in that club?

“Can I take this for a second?” I ask, holding it up. I want to read it. I want to devour each word of the article, and I want to keep the images for myself. I don’t know why. I have more then enough memories of her, but this is different. This is the Yara I don’t know…the Yara I wish I
did
know.

Seeing her in London made me realise that I’ll forgive her for whatever it is she did. I know she must have done something—or she thinks she’s done something—and when she’s ready to tell me, I’ll be ready to forgive her. I just don’t want to push her. I want her to come to me when she’s ready. I want it to be for the right reasons.

“Sure,” Ella says, shrugging.

I sit and read the whole article, front to back, five times over. The reporter loved her. The photographer loved her. By the sounds of it, everyone fucking loves her. I was hoping to read something that I didn’t already know, but the questions are pretty standard and boring.

“Isn’t it a load of shit?”

I blink up at Ella and frown. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, she’s not model material for a start. And second, so what if she’s good at drawing or painting? I bet she’s still a top-class weirdo who has no friends and sleeps upside down.”

The countdown to the new year begins as I stare at Ella.
Has she always been such a bitch?

Before I can say anything back or pull myself away, I feel Ella’s lips begin to touch down against mine. I turn at the last second but she carries on, kissing the corner of my mouth as her hand snakes around the back of my head.

When I pull away, I have a sense I’m being watched. I turn to find Jonny staring at me, looking shocked. I didn’t exactly want Ella to kiss me, but I’m not sure why he looks like he’s seen a ghost. I frown at him.

“Hello, Gabriel.”

The magazine slips from my hand. I turn around and find Yara standing a few metres behind me.

“Yara,” I breathe.
What the fuck is she doing here?

“Oh my god, it’s you,” says Ella, bending down to pick up the magazine.

Yara clears her throat, looking embarrassed and uncomfortable. “I’m sorry. I should have just left, but I came all this way and I didn’t want you to turn around and see me walking out of here.”

“Don’t go,” I say, stepping toward her. I wrap my fingers around her elbow and gently lead her out of the hall, only stopping when we’re out of sight. I curl my hands around her shoulder and turn her so she’s facing me.

She leans forward as the final bell chimes. Cheers from the hall ring out in the darkness all around us. “I came to say four things to say to you,” she tells me, sounding very serious and composed as she leans back against the brick wall.

My heart beats so hard in my chest that it feels like it’s pushing against my lungs, and I can hear my breaths as they tumble out of mouth. “Okay,” I finally say.

“First,” she whispers, “I love you. Always have, and I’m quite sure that I always will.”

What?

“Second, happy birthday.” She kisses me gently on my cheek and smiles when she pulls away from me.

“Yara, I—”

“Third,” she says, leaning forward to quickly kiss my cheek again, “Happy New Year.”

I stop her when she pulls away from me this time, holding her so that her lips are hovering just a centimetre from mine. “And fourth?”

She takes a deep breath, her eyes scanning my face. “I’ll tell you whatever it is you want to know. I’ll tell you things I’d never imagine telling anyone. But I want you to know that the only reason I came here—and the only reason I’m going to tell you anything—is because I wanted you back. I wanted to be with you again like we were.”

“
Wanted
? Why are you using the past tense?” I ask.

“Well,” she says, screwing her face up. “Because of Ella, of course.”

“There’s nothing going on with me and Ella.”

“Really?” she asks, raising her eyebrow. “Because that’s not the first time I’ve found the two of you together, is it?”

I shake my head. “We dated. Once. Before you and I even kissed. And I didn’t sleep with her. I don’t know what that was in there just now.”

“Okay,” she says with a sigh. “Well, regardless, I’ll still tell you whatever it is you want to know, because I’m done with being unhappy. I’m through torturing myself with thoughts about who you’re with and how you’re moving on without me. I just can’t live like this anymore.”

Yara

I hold my breath as I watch Gabriel thinking about what I’ve just said. He’s so handsome, and I just want to reach up and touch him, to kiss him, to do all the things I’ve dreamt about doing with him.

“Come with me,” he says, tugging on my hand. He doesn’t let go as he pulls me along the pavement. The images that fly through my head as we walk along the dusty streets make me flinch. I thought I’d be okay being back here, but it turns out I’m not. Maybe I should have spent the night getting my head straight before I sought him out, but I just couldn’t wait. I didn’t want to waste one more second, not when we’ve already wasted five long years.

He pulls me past the bar where I first met Jonny. We pass the post office and the bakery, and we pass the salon where his mum used to work. When we get to the library, he takes a left instead of a right.

“Where are we going?” I ask in confusion.

“We’re going home,” he tells me. There’s something about the way he says it that makes me think we’re not going to the house I think we’re going to.

I follow him silently, letting him lead me by my hand the whole time. His strides are so long and sure that I have to jog at times to keep up with him. He stops when we’re outside a modest cottage on the opposite side of the village from where we used to live.

“This is home?” I ask, looking up at it.

“It is now,” he says.

“What happened to your other house?”

“Mum sold it,” he tells me.

I release a breath I didn’t realise I’d been holding. I’m glad I don’t have to go back to his old house. That’s where my life completely fell apart, and I wasn’t quite sure if I could face seeing that kitchen again.

He tugs my hand again, and I follow him as we walk up the small twisting path. I can’t help but notice the garden; it’s the cutest, tidiest little garden that I’ve ever seen, with a perfectly trimmed lawn and a sprinkling of bushes and shrubs that make it look bigger than it actually is. I grin at him when he sees me looking.

“Wait until you see the back.”

“I can’t wait,” I tell him honestly.

He opens the door and pulls me inside. Before I have a chance to look around, he says, “Now it’s home.”

I don’t understand what he means, but I don’t care when Gabriel gently pushes me against the wall and then kisses his way up my neck.

“Don’t you want to talk first?” I ask.

“No,” he breathes, nudging my head back, exposing more of my throat.

“But what if what I need to tell you is bad? What if it makes you hate me?”

“It won’t,” he says confidently. He dips his head and presses a ghost of a kiss against the corner of my mouth. “I need to have you, Yara. I’ve ached for you for so long.”

He pins my hands above my head with one of his hands and then starts to undo his belt with the other. “I just need to be inside you,” he whispers against my skin.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I tell him as I arch my back, pressing my breasts against his chest.

“I won’t,” he almost growls. He lets go of my hands and then we’re tearing each other’s clothes off. It’s so fast and frenzied and full of pent-up lust that I’m already ready for him. He pulls his trousers and boxers down his legs, and then he holds his cock and positions himself between my legs.

“I want you,” he says, burying his face in my chest. He kisses and sucks each of my nipples, and I find myself wriggling from how much I want
him
.

“Then have me,” I say, repeating the words we once said to each other. He grips the back of my head and tugs on my hair, just enough to let me know that he plans on taking control. I’m more than happy to let him.

Gabriel plunges himself into me with one delicious thrust. I gasp and cry out as my nails drag all the way down his back. He thrusts his hips just the once and then pulls out, spinning me around so I’m pressed flat against the wall. His hands find mine, pinning them at the side of my head. He pushes into me slowly once again, teasing me until he’s all the way in and we’re together in the way I’ve dreamt about every single day since I left him.

He pauses, and I hear him take a deep breath as if he’s savouring the moment. Then he begins to thrust. It’s the most exquisite feeling I’ve ever felt.

He begins to thrust so hard that my whole body moves every time he enters me. His hands move from my hands, and I feel them dancing over my hips and across my taut stomach. I shiver from his touch, and then I feel him pulling me away from the wall. “I don’t want to come yet,” he says gruffly.

Without slipping out of me, he moves us to the floor, positioning me on top of him so I’m straddling him backwards as he lies on the rug in his hallway. I start to shake as he slides across a certain spot. My legs quiver and my hands feel like I need to be doing something with them.

I place one hand on his thigh and push the other one in between my legs, brushing my fingers against my clit as I feel him slipping and sliding in and out.

His hands are caressing my back, dipping down and stroking my bum as I move on top of him. When I feel my orgasm begin to flicker through me, I still, not wanting this to end.

“Turn around,” he tells me. “I want to see you, Yara.”

I lean a hand on his chest and spin around using my legs without letting him slip out. He raises an eyebrow as I lean down to kiss him.

“Stealthy,” he whispers.

I smile against his lips as I dip my tongue into his mouth. He groans and kisses me with so much fever that I almost come right then and there. He takes advantage of me leaning forward and thrusts up into me until it becomes too much. When his head drops back and his hands grip my hips, I move around on top of him while stroking myself as we stare into each other’s eyes.

I feel like I’m actually going to explode when my orgasm finally rips through me. “Gabriel,” I breathe.

He lifts me with his hands and then slams me back down. He does it over and over again as my orgasm carries on rolling over me, and then I hear him groan and feel him shuddering inside me. When I’m hot and damp, he stills completely.

“I love you, Yara,” he whispers, pulling me down so I’m resting against his chest.

“I love you too,” I tell him.

Gabriel

“Well, if that wasn’t bringing the New Year in with a bang, then I don’t know what is,” I say.

She smiles at my stupid joke and nudges me with her hip as she hands me two mugs. I sprinkle the hot chocolate into them and then stir in the milk that’s been warming on the stove.

She seems worried about what she’s going to tell me, but I’m sure it won’t be anything we can’t deal with. If we’ve learned anything over the last five years, it’s that our love for one another is strong. We can get over anything if we always remember that.

“I’ve set a blanket up out back,” I tell her.

She looks surprised but doesn’t say anything. I lead her through my cosy living room and into the dining room, where I pull open the French doors that lead to my own little sliver of paradise.

The garden is perfect. It’s long and a little narrower than I’d like, but it’ll do just fine. The borders are lined with hedges that come up to my head, making it completely private. I’ve got shrubs and flowering plants, and I’ve cut a winding path that leads through the grass to the summerhouse I built. There are also poles discreetly placed within the hedges that run all down the length of the garden, and I’ve strung fairy lights on them so they hang in a zig-zag pattern all down the garden. There are lanterns and a fire pit that I’ve lit as well.

“Right at the bottom,” I say, pointing to the far side of my garden, “is a butterfly garden. There’s a little shed for the caterpillars and a place for them to flutter about. I did some research, so it should be butterfly-friendly.”

“You did that for me?” she asks.

I nod.

“But how did you know I’d come back?”

“I hoped,” I say. “You’d have to have felt absolutely nothing for me to not come back here, and I could tell you still felt something when I saw you last month.”

She nods and looks around at all the lights. “It’s magical.”

“A bit like you,” I say, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

“I don’t remember you being so cheesy,” she jokes.

“Come on,” I say, nodding towards the blanket I’ve strewn over the grass. It’s a cold January night with the promise of frost hovering in the clouds above us, but the fire will be more than enough to keep us warm for a while.

Yara sits cross-legged on the blanket and sips her hot chocolate. I sit next to her and watch as her eyes flick over everything in the garden. They roam absolutely everywhere…except near me.

“Just say it, Yara. Just get it out and then we’ll deal with it.”

I hear her clear her throat and resign myself to the fact that I’m going to probably end up having a battle with her.

“I think I killed your sister.”

I almost spit my hot chocolate out. “What?”

She tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear, looking uncomfortable. “I went down to get a drink,” she whispers. “It was still early and I didn’t want to wake anyone up, so I crept downstairs and got some orange juice from out of the fridge.”

“O-kay,” I say, trying to remember what the scene was like when I got there.

“She just appeared,” she says, rushing on. “I didn’t know she was your sister. I couldn’t believe it at first. I argued with her and told her to get out of your house.” Yara puts her mug down and starts to play with a bit of a fluff on the blanket. “She said the usual nasty crap and told me to get out of her house, but then she made me so angry I was shaking. I hated how much power I felt she had over me. I’d made a promise to myself when I woke up in that hospital that I wasn’t going to stand for it anymore. I didn’t think I deserved it.”

“You didn’t,” I tell her.

Her eyes flick up to mine for just a second, and then once again she’s looking at everything except me. “She called me something and then I called her a bitch.” She shakes her head. “It made me so mad, Gabriel. So mad that I could feel myself shaking because of the anger that was coursing through me. I punched her straight in the face, hoping more than anything that I’d hurt her more than she’d ever hurt me. And then she collapsed to the ground and started to shake and twitch. I didn’t know it was a fit until you shouted to your mum.”

She turns her head completely away from me when she’s finished. This is what she’s been living with? This is why she ran from me that afternoon?

“Oh, Yara,” I say. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I hit her!” she says, rubbing a stray tear away. “I caused her to fit.”

I reach out to her and pull her close to me. “You didn’t. Jasmine had epilepsy, and she hadn’t been taking her medicine or sleeping much. Those are triggers, Yara. You didn’t cause it.”

“Okay, let’s say I didn’t cause it. I still can’t stop thinking about the last words she heard. They were my words, me telling her that I thought she was a bitch. It makes me feel sick when I think about that.”

“What’s done is done,” I tell her. “Jasmine died, and while it is tragic, and yeah, maybe the last words she heard weren’t the nicest words, they can’t be unsaid. But you didn’t cause her to fit. You didn’t kill her, Yara. You hear me?”

“Yes, I hear you, but I still feel terrible,” she says, her voice trembling from the tears she’s trying to keep from falling. “I still feel like I’m the one that killed her.”

I pull her onto my lap and kiss the top of her head as she snuggles into me. “I can’t help you with how you feel, but
I
don’t blame you,” I say. “I’m guessing that’s why you ran and were afraid to come back. You were scared of how I’d react, weren’t you? You were scared that I would blame you?”

Yara sniffs but doesn’t say anything.

“My sister did awful things to you back then,” I whisper. “She probably deserved to be called a bitch.” I wince as I say it, knowing my mum would have a heart attack if she could hear me talking about Jasmine like that. “But I won’t ever throw it back in your face. I won’t hold it against you. I won’t even think about it again. If this is what’s been keeping you from me for five years, then I’ll forget you’ve even told me. That’s how convinced I am that you had nothing to do with it. I need you to understand this, Yara. I need to know that we can move past this. No more secrets. No more pain. No more being apart when we should be together. Nothing.”

“Oh, Gabriel,” she says through a sob. “I can’t believe you’ve forgiven me just like that. I can’t believe you’re okay about this. I’ve been terrified for five whole years.”

“You should have just talked to me,” I tell her. “When did I ever make you think that you couldn’t talk about things with me?”

“Never,” she says, shaking her head. “I was just scared, and fear makes people think irrationally.”

I sigh, feeling her thighs wrap around my hips as I pull the blanket around us. “You never have anything to be afraid of when you’re with me,” I tell her as sincerely as I can. “I know there’s still a story you’ve got to tell me. I still want to know what you’ve been doing for the last five years, but is there anything else that you think I
need
to know?”