My Butterfly

of her temples.
    “Seriously, Will,” she said. “Who is that girl?”
    “It’s just a girl Jeff goes to school with,” I said. “Really, Rachel, it’s nothing. It’s not what it looked like.”
    “Really, Will?” she asked.
    Her voice sounded exhausted.
    “Because what it looked like to me was that you were holding hands with a girl you just met, knowing that the love of your life would see it.”
    I grabbed the back of a chair pushed up against the wall as my knees slightly buckled under my weight. Rachel’s eyes fell to my white knuckles gripping the chair and then narrowed back on my eyes, but this time, her expression seemed a little softer.
    “What are you doing, Will?” she asked. “I know you, and I know you love her.”
    “Rachel, I just…,” I said and then stopped and lowered my head. “I mean, this whole thing was her idea. She wanted the break. I just don’t understand.”
    I lifted my eyes to Rachel’s again, as she sucked in a big breath of air and let out a sigh.
    “You just don’t know everything about her like you think you do, and you might have just screwed this up for yourself, Will Stephens,” she said, her eyes turning stern again. “You’ve just got to give her some space now.”
    She turned then, walked to the corner of the room, grabbed Julia’s arm and escorted her to the door. I watched Rachel pull a coat off the coat rack and hand it to Julia before pulling one off for herself. Julia’s eyes were sad. I could tell that much from where I stood, even though she never looked up at me. My heart stabbed at the inside walls of my chest. It took everything in me not to run after her, but I knew Rachel was right, and even if she weren’t, there was no way I was getting past her and to Julia—not tonight anyway. Instead, I watched Julia walk through the door—and possibly out of my life forever.
    An anxious breath quickly escaped past my lips as the hard, wooden door closed behind her and the room grew dark around me.
    I wasn’t sure how long I had been standing there when, seemingly by instinct, I charged toward the door. I swung it open, and a blast of cold air engulfed my body. I knew I should have felt it more than I had, but a part of me was still numb. I hastily scanned the street. The night was black, so the taillights of her jeep pulling away were easy to see.
    I took a couple of steps, and I was off the porch and on the sidewalk. I reached for my keys in my pocket but then stopped. I couldn’t chase after her. I couldn’t leave Jessica in there. And chasing after Jules ultimately wouldn’t get us anywhere tonight anyway. I wouldn’t want to see me either. My heart stung my chest again, and at the same time, a chill ran up my spine, reminding me that I wasn’t invincible. I shoved my hands into my pockets and leaned up against a porch beam. Then, I forced my head back against the beam’s wood, as I took a deep breath, slowly let it out and then watched the fog it made disappear into the night.
    After some time, I glanced at my watch. It was midnight, a new year. A set of headlights on the street in front of me caught my attention. I stood up and locked my eyes onto them. They slowed, stopped at the sign and then continued on.
    I let out a sigh, as my eyes fell to the ground again and my hand found my forehead in frustration. She wasn’t coming back. She was gone, and it was all my fault.
    ...
    It was a little after one in the morning, and I was following Jessica up the walk and to her doorstep.
    When she reached her door, she stopped and faced me. I, meanwhile, took in a deep breath of air through my nose. It was even colder than it had been earlier, and it stung my throat and lungs.
    “You know, you disappeared before midnight, and I didn’t get a New Year’s kiss,” she said, softly smiling.
    I looked up from the ground, found her eyes and forced an awkward smile.
    “Jessica,” I said and then stopped.
    Her eyes were planted on mine, and I knew she was waiting for me to say something else, but I just didn’t know how to say what I had to say. I repositioned my feet in the spot where I was standing, shoved my bare hands into my warm pockets and lowered my eyes to the walk again.
    “I’m, uh, not ready to do this yet,” I eventually managed to get out.
    I didn’t hear anything, and my eyes soon rose to meet hers. She looked as if she had just been hurt, and she had been, and it was my fault.
    “I thought that maybe I was,” I lied.
    Her