These Butterflies

In my 2.5 years at Martin Luther King High, the case with Milan Gaskarth has always been recognized by me and the greater population of the male student body. It’s a competition; she’s the prize; and tonight, as far as I was concerned, I was in the lead.

I take a minute to admire the sweetness of her face as she sleeps. Her soft cheek presses against the pillow and her lips push out into a little pout. I wonder whether she makes that cute pout every night or if she went to bed unhappy or both. Regardless, it’s irresistible. It’s not hard to see why her brothers are so overprotective. Something about her, something I can’t quite figure out, is simply precious. But unfortunately for them, this untold innocence they’re trying to keep from harm’s way, it makes her all the more tempting. I, along with many others I’m sure, also wish for her to never get tainted, unless of course we are the ones doing this mentioned tainting. And the fact that she’s so forbidden from all of us, well that’s also kind of a turn on. It’s not uncommon to be drawn to what you can’t have, so the more I’m warned to stay away, the closer I want to get. And tonight, I thought I couldn’t get any closer.

Her inexperienced lips struggled to keep up with mine. “Just relax,” I whispered, slipping my hands under her shirt and moving my lips down to her neck. I could feel her nervous heart beating against my chest through hers. I slowed down. I tried to make her comfortable, but I couldn’t wait any longer. It’s hard to be patient when someone as hot and eager and forbidden as Milan Gaskarth is breathing all heavy and running her pretty, delicate fingers through your hair. I couldn’t believe it. I was finally going to have her. I was ready and it was happening and it was perfect, and that’s exactly why I don’t know what went wrong.

I pulled off my shirt in a matter of moments. I was practically ready to rip her clothes off next, but she pressed her hands against my naked chest and pushed me away before I could. It’s then that I noticed the tears in her eyes. I was caught completely off guard for this. I was too overwhelmed by the taste of her skin and the sound of her breaths to notice she was fighting back tears. I pulled away quickly because trying to have sex with a girl while she’s sobbing feels a lot like a rape and doesn’t sound particularly sexy nor fun.

“I can’t do this. I can’t do this…” She began to sob. I panicked.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, but she was too upset to respond. “Was it something I did?”

“It’s not you,” she responded before losing composure once again.

She said it wasn’t me, so what the hell was going on? She was going to give in, I just know it, but something kept her from falling into me like all of the other girls before her. Something will continue to keep her from me and I can’t quit until I find out what because I need her to trust me; because getting her to tell me why she’s so miserable is the first step. It might be tricky to find out what she’s hiding, but I think I can do it. I’ve done it before. I’ve made girls trust me, usually for selfish reasons I admit. That’s not to say I’ve never had a girl practically crawl onto my bed and take her clothes off. It happens more than I would like to believe is normal but I am aware that most of my encounters with beautiful girls rely on the mutual agreement that an awkward morning is better than a lonely night. It’s easy to see me as the bad guy when every few months or so there’s another nice, pretty girl who misunderstood our agreement and is now going around with her sad eyes and a story similar to the many others. Most people like to agree. It’s just easier not to question it I guess, but it’s a little unfair to be seen this way because let’s be realistic for a moment: I’m not the only teenage guy with not-so-virtuous intentions.

I put my hand on her knee to see how she’d react. She didn’t flinch and I took that as a sign that I was in the clear, so I went back into game mode and wrapped my arms around her. “If you need anything just tell me and I’ll do it,” I said. “Really, I’ll do anything, just please tell me what’s wrong.” She shook her head. She still refused to tell.

I just don’t get it. It’s not like there’s someone else as close as I am to wooing her. The lucky guy would be bragging about it like crazy. Not to mention her brothers, they would never even risk her getting hurt. I know some guys have gotten hopeful ever since Chris and Matt moved out, but they’re delusional to think they’d get past Alex. He’s the craziest about her.

He makes it his job to watch out for her every minute of every day, and he’s so good at it. I mean, he’s sheltered her from me for this long. I find it admirable how much he cares about her really, so much so that I feel a little guilty for taking advantage of tonight’s situation. It’s almost a shame that all of his hard work to keep her from me will one day be a waste. I know for a fact he is going to lose his mind if he finds out his sister slept in my bed tonight. The thought makes me grin a little. I would, however, prefer for this to remain Milan and my’s secret due to the fact that Alex could greatly alter my plan in progress. He has the power to pull her even farther away from me, but if my guess is correct, she’ll never tell him. She looks up to him and I know the last thing in the world she wants is to disappoint her older brother. (Surely hearing something like hey you know that guy you hate? I took his pants off, would, in the least, be a disappointment.) It’s obvious how much they mean to each other. They’re inseparable. I hear they’ve always been that way.

Anyway, the last form of communication she gave to me before crying herself to sleep was a little mhm when I asked her if she was sleepy. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply before nuzzling her body between the sheets. It would have been quite the honor to join her. Much to my dismay, it didn’t really go my way. Clearly. But I keep reminding myself that this will all be worth it in the end.

I sigh, straighten myself up, and head into the bedroom across the hall for my night’s sleep, conscious of the fact that there’s more work needed to be done before being able to cross her off my mentally noted list of “things to do.” I’ve already conquered the first step. Getting Milan Gaskarth into your bed would guarantee to make you the envy of every other boy in school, but for now I’m going to keep quiet because I like to do everything all-or-nothing and getting into her pants… oh boy, what a victory that would be.