Page 35 of Butterfly

Mason had once told me I’d ruined his life. Well, if I kept letting him play his games, he would ruin mine. I was sure of it.

Mason, what happened today…

what about it, butterfly? want a repeat, just say the word

I swallowed, typing words I didn’t totally believe. But I had to.

…it can’t ever happen again.

There was a pause in the conversation, then he responded.

why

you know why

careful, butterfly

goodbye, Mason

This time, I turned off my phone and slid it inside the drawer in the nightstand next to my small bed. I buried my head in the covers. I should’ve felt relief, right? Instead, I felt unspeakably, inexplicably sad.

Someone knocked—tentatively—on my door. The butterflies started up again…could he have gotten here so soon?

Yeah, you really seem like someone ready to say goodbye, that inner voice scoffed. I shushed it, opening the door, preparing to tell him to leave.

I was annoyingly disappointed to see it wasn’t Mason, but instead Chris. I leaned away immediately, trying not to completely recoil at his smell: slight BO and a pretty strong stench of alcohol. I knew drinking was a big part of college, but it was only 4 p.m. And he was alone.

“Leslie!” He slightly slurred the “s” in my name. “What’s happening?”

“Um, nothing, just resting,” I said.

“Cool, can I come in? Or is your douchey brother here?”

“Stepbrother,” I corrected immediately. “But no, he’s not.”

“Great.” He stumbled past me, sitting—or rather, falling—onto my bed. I wrinkled my nose. I didn’t want his stench all over my bedding.

“Chris, why are you here?”

“Figured I’d lend you a hand if you needed anything else set up or nailed in your room.” He snorted at his own gross joke.

“No, I’m good.”

“Aw, don’t be like that.”

I swallowed. “Chris, are you drunk?”

He sat up. “No, of course not.” His hiccup contradicted this.

“Chris, please leave my room. I don’t feel comfortable with you here.”

“And what are you going to do about it? Sic your jock stepbrother on me?”

I had no idea if it would work. Mason had taken issue with Chris earlier—in fact, his interaction with Dan from lit class proved he didn’t like it when other guys talked to me at all. But I had no idea if that extended to confronting or threatening my creepy, drunk RA. I also didn’t know if I had any other way to warn Chris away from me.

It fucking pissed me off, how little power I had.

“He’s super protective,” I said quietly. “He won’t like you bothering me.”

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