Butterfly

o n e

Josh chuckled lightly, as he laid down on his living room couch. I never saw him laugh this way: so tender, his smiles reaching the corners of his ears, and the way his dimples perk up.

We're having a movie night at his place. It's one of our many traditions since middle school. Every Sunday night, his parents go out for a meeting, and we have the whole house to ourselves.

Giggling, I remarked, "Don't be a saraleo, Josh!" I scolded him (saraleo means asshole in Thai), "That's a bloody thing to say," I was scrolling through our shared Netflix account.

He shrugged, raising his right hand, "I apologize, but both of us know I vowed to grow up as one!" I plopped down next to him.

I was still flipping through the numerous shows and movies. The movies here are either for girls, for cliché-addicted people, or for little children. The shows are either off the charts, crazy, or too long.

Josh cocked his brow at me, "You know we don't have to spend Sunday night watching a movie," He sensed my frustrated face, "We could just... read a book!" He suggested.

"What book did I possibly not read?!" I complained, frowning, "And besides... you never know if there are some hidden gems on this app."

He scratched his chin, "Okay, two points for you, Sydney."

That's when my eyes darted on Home Alone 2. A classic favorite of middle school Josh Williams. I guess we could watch this... for the 69th time.

"You have good taste," Josh grinned broadly, taking a few strands of my blonde hair, and attempting to braid it. He buried his head into my locks, something he'd normally do, and take a sniff of it, "You smell like strawberries."

Rolling my eyes, I muttered, "Honestly, I could memorize the lines of the characters from watching this redundantly," I huffed, folding my arms across my chest.

A lightbulb popped into my head, "Hey, Jakushie, could we have some ice cream sundaes?" I asked. My nickname for him is Jakushie, because when we were at the mall, we bumped into his little cousin who called him Jakushie since she can't pronounce his name (I mean c'mon, it's easy as 1, 2, 3).

But he hates the name, "No," He said briefly.

My lips twisted into a frown, "Awww, why not?" I blinked at him, resting my head on his left shoulder.

"Because..." He thought about it for a moment, "I'm gonna eat the brownie sundae when you leave," Josh concluded triumphantly.

Pouting, I exclaimed, "That's bull-" I knitted my brows together, scowling at this absurd banter of ours.

He was waving a finger at me, "Language, Harper," He laughed, and I smiled back.

I've been hanging out with my best friend for the past 4 years of my life, and I have to say: seeing him smile or laugh, is the best medicine for me.

I didn't realize I was gawking at him: from his curly black hair, to his aquatic blue eyes, his unnoticable freckles, his lips, his kinda-muscled physique, to his toes.

"Nah, just kidding," I heard him say, "I'll give you the entire tub," He told me, getting off the couch, having all the space to myself.

Humming, I beamed, "Thanks—" He cut me off immediately.

He said, "If you come with me to Kenneth's party on Friday," Josh offered, challenging me. Ken is only popular because he has a step-dad that has his own private plane.