Butterflies On Crack
Un
“...What?”
I didn't really know what else to say. I guess it just wasn't sinking in. Otherwise, I would've just said 'Ditto' and expanded the conversation from there.
After a second's awkward silence, she looked up at me again, suddenly losing interest in the library's carpeting, and stuttered her repetition, her cheeks darkening, her smile fading: “I...I said I love you.” Her voice cracked towards the end of the statement,and I was shocked to see her eyes filling with tears.
This could not be happening.
First of all, the her I know is a little ray of sunshine, a blatant optimist. I didn't even know it was possible for her to cry—let alone because of me.
Then there was the issue of religion. Good Catholic girls aren't allowed to like other girls. She's a good Catholic girl—she knows all her little prayers, she teaches Sunday school at her church, and she got super-defensive when we talked about the Reformation in history class. Therefore, she could not like me.
The last reason was the simplest: if it really were happening, I'd get a temporary happy ending. That shit just doesn't happen to me. It doesn't happen in real life, especially for 'non-traditional' couples.
Is it pathetic that the fleeting thought of the word 'couple' put the butterflies in my stomach on crack? Or that, even though her tears were bound to tear me up inside, a small part of me felt special because she was crying over me?
Yeah. I thought so.
Before I had a chance to give her a real answer, though, she started talking at an almost-unintelligible pace. It was actually kind of endearing, in a weird way.
“Iknowthisisreallyawkwardandmyparentsandchurchand—and—we'rejustfriendsand—"
She cut herself off to catch her breath. Then, instead of continuing, she spoke more slowly, with more resolve. Unfortunately, this somehow made her tears eat at me even more. I think I may have winced as she started.
“I...I'm sorry. This was—this was unnecessary. Y-You don't ever have to—” she stopped and tried to stifle a sob. I took the chance to step towards her, leaving very little space between us. I put my hand on her shoulder, and she looked up at me, surprised.
“Listen, m—” I started. But then she jerked away, rather violently.
“Forget this ever—“ she started, sounding suddenly cold. A sob still made her pause, though. “Forget this ever happened.” She started backing away. I stepped towards her, but that only caused her to yell at me: “Leave me alone!”
She turned and looked like she was gonna make a run for it, but I managed to grab on to her wrist before she left. She turned back around, though I doubt it was just my brute force that stopped her. She looked at me like a sobbing deer in the headlights. I figured that was as good a time as any to try and calm her down, to actually speak.
Without another thought, I pulled her into a hug, and I gently pressed my lips to hers.
I didn't really know what else to say. I guess it just wasn't sinking in. Otherwise, I would've just said 'Ditto' and expanded the conversation from there.
After a second's awkward silence, she looked up at me again, suddenly losing interest in the library's carpeting, and stuttered her repetition, her cheeks darkening, her smile fading: “I...I said I love you.” Her voice cracked towards the end of the statement,and I was shocked to see her eyes filling with tears.
This could not be happening.
First of all, the her I know is a little ray of sunshine, a blatant optimist. I didn't even know it was possible for her to cry—let alone because of me.
Then there was the issue of religion. Good Catholic girls aren't allowed to like other girls. She's a good Catholic girl—she knows all her little prayers, she teaches Sunday school at her church, and she got super-defensive when we talked about the Reformation in history class. Therefore, she could not like me.
The last reason was the simplest: if it really were happening, I'd get a temporary happy ending. That shit just doesn't happen to me. It doesn't happen in real life, especially for 'non-traditional' couples.
Is it pathetic that the fleeting thought of the word 'couple' put the butterflies in my stomach on crack? Or that, even though her tears were bound to tear me up inside, a small part of me felt special because she was crying over me?
Yeah. I thought so.
Before I had a chance to give her a real answer, though, she started talking at an almost-unintelligible pace. It was actually kind of endearing, in a weird way.
“Iknowthisisreallyawkwardandmyparentsandchurchand—and—we'rejustfriendsand—"
She cut herself off to catch her breath. Then, instead of continuing, she spoke more slowly, with more resolve. Unfortunately, this somehow made her tears eat at me even more. I think I may have winced as she started.
“I...I'm sorry. This was—this was unnecessary. Y-You don't ever have to—” she stopped and tried to stifle a sob. I took the chance to step towards her, leaving very little space between us. I put my hand on her shoulder, and she looked up at me, surprised.
“Listen, m—” I started. But then she jerked away, rather violently.
“Forget this ever—“ she started, sounding suddenly cold. A sob still made her pause, though. “Forget this ever happened.” She started backing away. I stepped towards her, but that only caused her to yell at me: “Leave me alone!”
She turned and looked like she was gonna make a run for it, but I managed to grab on to her wrist before she left. She turned back around, though I doubt it was just my brute force that stopped her. She looked at me like a sobbing deer in the headlights. I figured that was as good a time as any to try and calm her down, to actually speak.
Without another thought, I pulled her into a hug, and I gently pressed my lips to hers.
♠ ♠ ♠
There you go. One thought-packed minute.