My Butterfly

hadn’t moved.
    “You coming?” I asked.
    I watched as her pretty lips lifted into a grin. Then, she nodded her head and followed after me.
    ...
    “Dinner was okay, huh?” I asked.
    She met my gaze and smiled.
    “Dinner is always more than okay here,” she said.
    She kept her eyes on mine for a couple of seconds. Then, I noticed her stare venture over to my guitar, propped up against the porch railing.
    “Do you still play?” she asked.
    I smiled a wide grin at her, then got up, grabbed the guitar and laid it across my lap.
    “This song is all yours,” I said, swinging the guitar’s strap around my body.
    She flashed me a puzzled look. I, in turn, gave her a confident smile and then went to playing with the guitar’s strings for a second.
    “Mine?” she asked.
    “Yep, all yours. Everyone needs a song—this one will be yours. I’ll never use it for anyone else,” I vowed.
    She lowered her eyes and laughed.
    “Okay,” she said, peeking at me from behind her long eyelashes.
    I got lost in her stare for a moment. Then, I took a deep breath and reluctantly tore my eyes from hers. Seconds later, I started in on a soft melody, and then, added its words:

“It’s a summer night
And I can hear the crickets sing
But otherwise, all the world’s asleep
While I can only lie awake and dream
And every time I close my eyes
A butterfly comes to me

It has soft, green eyes
A sweet soul
Brave wings
And each time, it hears me sing…”
 
    I stopped singing but continued to tickle the guitar’s strings, until eventually, my fingers ceased their dance altogether, and silence filled the air around us again.
    “That’s it?” she asked. “Where are the rest of the words?”
    My eyes fell to the wooden floor beneath us.
    “I’m…I’m still working on the rest,” I said.
    I was trying not to smile.
    “You can hear it again when I’m finished with it. I promise,” I said.
    I returned my eyes to hers. Her suspicious glare was burning a tattoo into my forehead.
    “Well, when will it be finished?” she asked.
    I paused and allowed the corners of my mouth to slowly rise.
    “I’ll find a way to get it to your ears,” I said. “Don’t worry.”
    She playfully pursed her lips. Her eyes were still narrowed, and she was still giving me an apprehensive look.
    “Okay,” she said. “I’ll wait if I have to, I guess.”
    I watched her take another sip of her lemonade.
    “You should play for people—you know,” she said, setting the glass back down onto the porch boards. “I might even do you the honor of being your biggest fan.”
    I laughed once.
    “You never give up, do you?” I asked.
    My eyes caught hers and rested in them for a little while.
    “Nah,” I finally said. “Work keeps me pretty busy. Besides, I don’t mind just playing like this—for friends, for you.”
    She smiled, and then her eyes ventured off to somewhere in the distance. I followed her stare to a couple of street lights starting to come alive in the darkness that threatened to engulf us.
    “Will,” she said.
    Her soft voice attracted my full attention again.
    “You know you’ve got a piece of me always, no matter what this crazy world has planned for us, right?” she asked.
    I nodded my head as a smile pushed its way to my face. I knew I probably should have been thrown off by her confession, but I wasn’t. It was the truth. The truth rarely surprised me.
    “Yeah, I know, and you’ve got the other half of me, damn the luck,” I said, chuckling.
    I watched her tilt her head back, as a soft laugh fell from her lips.
    “How can we ever function separately?” I asked, silently stroking the strings of my guitar.
    She caught my stare and smiled a wide grin.
    “I’m sure we’ll make do,” she said.
    Her eyes lingered in mine just a little too long—long enough for me to imagine kissing her again. My heart sped up, and I could feel my chest rising and falling in short blips.
    “I probably should be going,” she said, suddenly throwing her gaze to the hard floor.
    I froze for an instant, my eyes still locked on her.
    “Okay,” I said, eventually forcing a sound.
    I didn’t agree that she should be going, but I knew that I couldn’t force her to stay either.
    Then, suddenly, she started to get up. I followed with my eyes a path from her pretty lips to her hand that now rested on the arm of the chair. And then, without another thought, my own hand instinctively went to hers.
    “Jules,” I said, placing