Butterfly Kisses

"Gatsby, c'mon kitty," I called quietly into the darkness that was my backyard.

From my porch, I searched the night, waiting to hear the soft patter of his running feet.

After five minutes, he still hadn't come. Obviously, he must still be upset with me over the screaming fiasco.

I stepped back inside, shutting the screen door while keeping watch.

Cin had left already with a quick hug and a promise to call Sunday afternoon when she returned from the Cape.

The guys hadn't ever shown, and Gatsby didn't seem to want my company either.

Stifling a shiver, I wrapped my arms around myself.

I wasn't cold so much as unsettled. The disturbing dream thing, along with that scary movie, had me all messed up.

Instinctively I searched the trees beyond my yard, studying between the low hanging branches that smelled of peppermint, their leaves soft as butterfly kisses.

Would he be out there? The man who watched me in the dream.

A noise like crunching leaves pulled my head in its direction. My pulse picked up speed like a thumping rabbit.

Something moved out there - something I couldn't see.

Opening the screen door, I called for Gatsby again. "Here, kitty kitty."

The sound of my own voice made me nervous.

The noise grew more intense.

I'd let the screen door slam behind me and now reached back, grabbing the handle. Opening it, I put a hand to my throat. If it was the man, what should I do?

I wouldn't be safe in the house. I so needed a cellphone.

I was about to turn when two guys stumbled out of the trees and fell onto the grass, laughing uproariously.

A scream escaped my lips before I could stop it.

I clamped a hand over my mouth, realizing it was just Salvatore and Bart.

That's what my eyes told me; the rest of me was frozen in fear.

I wanted to laugh with them. They'd only been teasing; it's what they did.

I'd done it to them on more than one occasion: snuck into their yard and scared them.

"You should see your face," Salvatore said, rising and coming toward me. "I should've taken a picture." Tears were streaming down his face from laughing so hard.

Bart was in a similar state.

I still couldn't move.

In the dream, Salvatore had been holding the bloody heart, the heart of my true love. The brothers had been tossing it around like they were playing catch before a game.

I shook my head, remembering I'd tasted the heart.

A rush of pleasure rushed through me, and I swallowed back the disgust and guilt.

"How-how could you?" I stammered, tears filling my eyes. "You know I'm all alone. You could've been a psychotic murderer."

I rushed into the house, letting the screen door slam behind me.

I'd seen their stricken faces and knew they hadn't meant to do any harm, but I couldn't act rationally.

Sobs wracked my body, and snot dripped from my nose.

I was losing it, and I had no excuse.

I ran past my parents' unused bedroom and the bathroom in the main hall until I reached my bedroom.

Flinging open the door, I launched myself onto the bed and buried my head in my purple pillows. My dad, being gone for so long, plus knowing Cindy liked Gabe and the weird daydream, was fuel for my pity party.

The guys scaring me ignited it, and now there would be no stopping the floodgates.

All my sadness, my loneliness, my pent-up hurt, and fears seemed to crash into me.

Wave after horrible wave.

Why had my mother died?

Why had my father remarried such a cold, uncaring woman, and why did they have to leave me alone all the time?

Why did my dad choose her over me?

Why was I such a dork?

The questions went unanswered, probably always would.

My life was what it was, and most of the time, I accepted it, even enjoyed it.

Right now was not one of those times.

I'd fallen into my enormous chasm of hurt and allowed myself to sink in.

"Care for one more in your pity party?"

At the sound of his soft voice, I stiffened.

There was a thud, and then I felt the bed give as four soft paws jumped up.

"Gatsby invited me. I hope you don't mind if I join you?"

Two feelings swirled through my heart at once: relief and embarrassment.

Relief, because I was happy he was here. I didn't want to be alone.

Embarrassment because I was a blubbering mess, and he would see me, and I'd never be able to look him in the face again.

"Gabe, what are you doing?" I asked, casually wiping my eyes and nose on my pillowcase. Gross? Sure. But it was better than him seeing me covered in snot.

The bed dipped as he sat.

His warm skin so close to mine sent tingles through my belly.

"I told you Gatsby invited me, and I never miss a pity party, especially not one thrown by my beautiful best friend, Snowflake."

There was amusement in his voice.

He was trying to make me feel better, but that wasn't the point of my feeling sorry for myself. I wasn't supposed to feel better. It was about misery, and that's what I wanted.

Him saying I was beautiful just added to the many waves of hurt.

It wasn't true, and having him rub that in didn't help.

"Go away," I said.

He answered by scooting closer, and I felt my body respond hungrily to his nearness.

"I'll go away when I know you're feeling better. Professor Pops knows I'm here. He also has Salvatore and Bart on bathroom duty tomorrow. He wanted me to be sure to tell you that."

"Huh," was all I could utter, though I had to smile.

"Serves them right." I sniffled.

He shifted his weight and pushed me over slightly, then I felt something fall over me. It was the quilt my mother made.

Tears filled my eyes again, and I squeezed them shut.

"Now, I'm just going to lie down next to you until you fall asleep. I've already locked up the house, but I'll lock the back door when I leave, okay?" He spoke softly.

Gatsby growled before there was a thud. Gabe dropped him to the floor.

The bed shifted as Gabe got comfortable.

Then there was only his breathing.

I held mine for several long seconds.

He meant it.

Gabe was just going to lie there with me.

I took a deep breath and relaxed.

The moment reminded me of our overnighters when we were younger, sleeping out on the trampoline in our sleeping bags.

The seven of them and me all started out at typical distances from each other, but by morning we'd all slid into the middle - a pajama-clad mashup of arms and legs.

I'd always been the first to wake up, lie there, listen to them inhale and exhale, and wish that was how we could be every night - my brothers and me sleeping under the stars.

Only now, I didn't see them that way anymore.

They weren't my brothers, but gorgeous men and the one next to me had my pulse pounding in my ears.

I took a deep breath, thinking about our overnighters.

They'd ended once my stepmother came into the picture.

She'd pointed out that they were boys, and all boys only had one thing on the brain.

As I listened to Gabe now, I wondered what was on his mind.

After a while, I fell asleep.

In my dreams, there were arms wrapped protectively around me, my back tucked against his chest, legs intertwined.

I heard a whisper. "Snow, my Snow. You aren't alone."

My heart soared with happiness in the dream.

"Gabe, don't leave me," I whispered back.

"Never, Snowflake."