Smoke And Steel

• Twenty Two - Butterflies •

Avery

Two weeks.

That's how long had passed since that fateful day at Ebony's house.

She tries to pretend that everything is still the same, and that I'm the same old Avery she knew before, but I see the way she looks at me now. It's the same look she'd give to a little kid who's grazed his knee, but ten times more pitiful. It's like she's assessing me for damage, checking that I'm not about to fall apart right in front of her. 

I don't know how I feel about having her constantly by my side, but I know that she wouldn't leave me even if I told her to.

At the same time, I've been noticing little things about her, and it causes something weird inside of me - The way she hides her smile behind her hands when she's trying not to laugh; her sleepy eyes when she comes to the dining hall for breakfast; the little glances she sneaks at me when she things I'm not looking.

She's doing it right now, actually.

We're sprawled out on a picnic blanket - Tate and Tash, as well - attempting to soak up the meager rays of fall sunshine. Tash is asleep, Tate is texting his girlfriend (who he is utterly in love with), I'm attempting to read a book (though it's a bit hard to concentrate), and Princess is giving me the same curious look she's been giving me for a while now.

"See something you like?" I joked, turning to look at her.

"Oh," she gasped. "Sorry, I was just, um... You have an eyelash on your cheek!" She said in a rush. "It's really annoying me," she said as she leant forward and lightly brushed it off the top of my cheek. As her fingers touched my face something stirred in the pit of my stomach.

Oh, hell no. I did not just get butterflies.

Not from someone who's meant to be my friend.

Not even if we've kissed before.

Not even if I want to kiss her again.

And run my fingers through that long  black hair.

And feel her heart beat against mine.

Despite all of those things I can't be getting butterflies from a totally un-romantic gesture. I told her that we couldn't be anymore than friends, and here my heart - well, my stomach - was betraying me.

"What are you thinking about?" Ebony asked, still looking at me.

"Math homework that I never did," I lied smoothly. "Why's that?"

"You had this little furrow at the base of your forehead, like you were concentrating." She leant over once more, and touched the space above my brows. 

There the freaking butterflies were again.

I shifted a bit back, stopping myself from sinking into a puddle of feelings. 

"Oh well, I wasn't," I said.

"Of course, it takes more than your ten whole brain cells to actually concentrate on something," she quipped.

"Hey now," I defended, poking her plastered arm with my finger. "I have eleven brain cells, thank you very much." 

"Are you sure about that?" Tate asked, looking up from his phone. "I could've sworn you only had one for each decade of life."

"Is it 'gang up on Avery' day or something?" I asked, rolling onto my stomach to bury my head into the blanket.

"Yes," they said simultaneously, grinning at each other.