My Butterfly

couldn’t wait to show her my surprise.
    We reached my truck a minute later. I made my way over to the passenger’s side door first and pulled it open. She playfully eyed me up and then jumped inside. I closed the door behind her and wondered how many more playful smiles I could take from those lips without kissing them.
    Then, I jumped in behind the wheel and made a u-turn back onto the dusty, gravel road.
    “Will, seriously, where are we going?” she asked.
    I looked over at her. Her eyes were big and bright, and a wide grin hung on her lips. I smiled and returned my focus to the road.
    “It’s a surprise,” I said.
    I noticed out of the corner of my eye her head fall back against the headrest.
    “I hate surprises,” she groaned.
    I glanced back over at her.
    “No, you don’t,” I said.
    I watched then as her head quickly snapped back up and her eyes caught mine.
    “When did you become the expert of me?” she asked.
    “An expert?” I asked, making sure she caught my teasing stare before I returned my eyes to the gravel road.
    “Oh, that was just recently,” I said.
    A wide, devious smile danced its way to my face.
    “They give that title to ya after ten years of study,” I said.
    She tossed her head back and made a sound that resembled either surprise or sarcasm—I wasn’t sure.
    “Ten years of study, huh?” she asked.
    I found her stare again and gently smiled.
    “And they wonder why I’m not so good at math,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.
    Her laughter filled the cab. I loved her laugh. I wished sometimes that I could secretly record it and play it back when I needed it the most—like when the school counselor was asking me what I wanted to do with the rest of my life or in the middle of a set of walls during basketball practice or something. Hell, I’d play it back when Mrs. Ritter was on her second piece of chalk in English class too. I was trying to force back a wide smile fighting its way to my lips at the thought when I felt her eyes on me.
    “What’s that?” she asked.
    “What’s what?”
    I glanced over at her. Her eyes were already fixated on a spot behind the wheel.
    “That photo in your dashboard,” she said.
    I took a quick glance at the dash and then noticed the photo propped up to the right of the speedometer.
    “Oh that?” I asked, first eyeing the photo and then her.
    She sent me a cocked, sideways smile and then slowly nodded her head.
    “That would be Julia Austin Lang—the object of my studies,” I proudly said.
    Her crooked smile instantly straightened.
    “I’ve made your dashboard,” she said.
    I glanced over at her again and caught her happy expression. I couldn’t help but chuckle a little.
    “Jules, dear, the center of my dashboard’s nothin’,” I said, sending her a wide grin. “You made the center of my life years ago.”
    I could tell she was trying her damnedest to muster up a sarcastic glare, even as her eyes grew softer by the second.
    “Get over here, pretty girl,” I said, pushing up the center console and gesturing her to my side.
    I returned my eyes to the road and then, seconds later, felt her body collide gently into mine. Then, I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and squeezed her as close as I could to me.
    “We’re almost there,” I said, as I felt her head fall against my chest.
    I could get used to this.
    It was another minute before we crossed over an old creek slab and landed at the edge of civilization. The gravel road pretty much ended there. I pulled to the side so that Lou pointed toward a big, clover field, and I turned off the ignition.
    Then, I looked down and found Jules already eyeing me up with those green jewels of hers. And I just knew her smile was asking me what the hell I was doing taking her to a dark, clover field in the middle of the night.
    “I swear my intentions are pure,” I said to her, with a soft side-smile.
    She laughed into my chest.
    “Come on,” I said, leaning into the door. “It’s outside.”
    She hesitated but then followed my lead and scooted back over to her door and pulled on the handle. Then, I switched off the lights, and suddenly, the world around us was pitch-black, and I had to stop for a second to let my eyes readjust.
    “Will,” she squealed, laughing. “I can’t see a thing.”
    “Good,” I said. “Close your eyes and just wait there.”
    I rushed to the front of Lou and slid my hand against the grille to feel my way over to the passenger’s side.
    When I