These Butterflies

I don’t want him to know that I’ve been crying.

I look down quickly and pull a strand of hair behind my ear. I keep my hand up to the side of my face.

“What are you doing here by yourself? It’s dark out.”

I gulp. “I don’t know. Just walking, I guess.” I look up at him and regret it almost instantly because the sudden change of his face tells me that my reddened eyes give me away. “I should go,” I say. I’m about to turn back around but he gets a hold of my arm before I can.

“Wait.” His hard gray eyes don’t stray from me and they make it hard to look away. The murky beam of light provided by the streetlight above us creates shadows on his face that bring out his high cheekbones and defined jaw. His blonde hair is messy in all the right places, and it seems to match all of his attractive features so perfectly. “You shouldn’t be walking alone.”

I open my mouth to protest but my phone starts to ring again, interrupting me. It’s Alex. I freeze. “Aren’t you going to answer that?” Connor asks.

I shake my head. I don’t want Connor to know anything. I try not to think about it but suddenly, it’s like everything comes crashing down on me all at once. Something inside me never lets me forget and it’s just too much. My vision gets blurry and a sob forces its way through my lips. Connor holds me.

“Hey… it’s okay.” I know that nothing about this situation is okay, but hearing him say those words somehow reassures me.

My head rests on his chest and I realize that the tip of my head doesn't even reach his shoulders. When I finally run out of tears, neither of us says a word. He doesn’t let go until I pull away and look up at him. I sniffle before breaking the silence by asking, “Have you always been so tall?”

He looks a bit confused by the question, but then he chuckles quietly. “Not always.” He brushes a tear from my face and his touch makes me tense up. “You really should let me walk you home,” he says.

“I don’t want to go home. Not right now.”

“But it’s almost eleven.”

I shrug. “Perfect time for a walk.”

“I guess... if you want to get raped,” he replies.

I know he's just messing with me but when I look down the mysterious street under the sinister black night sky, I feel an icy chill run up my spine. “Fine.” I look back at him and a little grin forms on his lips. “But please don’t take me home.”

“I won’t,” he promises. And he doesn't.

It’s a little past midnight when he finally walks me to my doorstep. We haven’t exchanged words since he made that promise.

“Thank you,” I tell him.

“Any time…” He looks down at the ground and scratches his head nervously.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Are you ever going to tell me why you were crying?”

I look into his eyes. They’re filled with curiosity. “I can't.”