Chapter Twelve
Lily
I stayed on the floor by the door that entire night. Every time something creaked in the hallway, my whole body would hear it, and I’d seize, thinking maybe, just maybe, he’d come back. I spent the night only dimly sleeping as I vacillated between emotions. Half of me was proud that I’d held my ground, kept my pride, and told him to leave. The other half felt sick, wondering if this meant I’d never see him again. I mean, I’d kicked him out, right? The boy I’d loved since I was seventeen had come to my apartment, and I’d basically told him to fuck off.
I woke up with the cool winter sun streaming through the living room window the next morning.
Shit. It was Thanksgiving.
I pressed my hands against the hardwood floor and slowly pressed myself up. My neck and hips hurt from lying on the ground all night, and it took me a moment to get up.
I made my way to the kitchen and set about making myself some coffee. As it brewed in the French press, I searched the living room for my phone, finally finding it between the couch cushions.
My breathing paused as I flipped it over. I told myself I was just looking for the time, but the truth? I was hoping he’d texted me. I know, it was crazy. I’d basically kicked him out, and he didn’t know my number, but still, I hoped.
Nothing.
It was eleven thirty, later than I’d realized. I was supposed to be at Jen’s boyfriend’s apartment at five for a Friendsgiving dinner. But I’d already picked up the wine I was supposed to bring, so I had a few hours to kill. I flicked on the television and settled on a marathon of the Home Alone movies.
“How appropriate,” I muttered to myself as I sipped on my coffee and flipped open my laptop.
As the movie streamed in the background, I pulled up Instagram. I spent a few minutes scrolling through pictures of pumpkin pies and the requisite “I’m flying home” shots out of airplane windows until I gave in and typed Rhys’ name into the search bar.
I started to feel my neck turn red as soon as I saw his name, and the heat flared even more when I clicked on it.
I’m not sure what I was expecting. Rhys had never been big into social media, so it shouldn’t have surprised me that his last post was a month ago. His photos were mostly candid shots of gallery openings or pics of paintings in progress. I took a few moments to look them over. They were really amazing; his talent had definitely developed over the years.
Clicking through, I paused. There, amidst the hipsters and artwork, was a photo of a butterfly, yellow and black, resting on a railing. The shot was candid and uncaptioned.
Strange.
I kept scrolling. A minute later, another one. This time, the butterfly was orange and brown, and it perched next to a paper cup of coffee on an outdoor table.
I started scrolling faster. The pattern wasn’t obvious, but it was there. Every few months, there’d be an uncaptioned photo of a butterfly. It was the only type of photo that wasn’t work related. Each one solicited a myriad of responses, all of the female variety.
Ohh, so pretty!
Nice pic, Rhys! We should hang out soon!
Missed you at the Gansevoort last week
After the fifteenth shot, I sat back. Was I reading too much into this? But it was weird, right? A guy posting shots of butterflies? That couldn’t be a coincidence.
As I sat there contemplating, there was a rustle at the door. I shut my laptop and tossed it next to me on the couch. A key clanged against the lock a few times, probably waking up the entire floor.
“Hello? It’s me,” Jen called out before opening the door all the way.
“It’s fine, Jen,” I deadpanned. “He’s not here.”
She threw open the door and marched in, smiling from ear to ear. “Dang, Lily, you did a wham bam thank you ma’am on Thanksgiving?”
I frowned. “Not quite. What are you doing here? I thought I was supposed to meet you at Chris’ place?”
“I came back to get my outfit. Now stop avoiding the question. Well? How was it? Oh my God, you have to tell me everything.” She pushed me to the side and dropped down next to me on the couch.
I let my head flop backward. “There’s nothing to tell.”
Jen sat up straight. “Uh-huh. No way. You do not get to pull that meek shit on me. I have heard about this boy since I met you. I need details.”
I shrugged. “There are no details. I sent him home.”
Jen stared at me. “I don’t understand.”
“I told him I couldn’t do this again. And then I sent him home.”
“Wait. Hold up.” Jen got off the couch. “I’m not following. Rhys comes over, seeks you out, and then what?”
“Jen, don’t make me go over this. We talked, and I told him I didn’t want to get together. Now, I really don’t want to talk about it. Can we just finish this movie and get ready for dinner?”
My roommate sighed but nodded. “Okay. Sure. Whatever you need, babe.”
Whatever I needed.
If I only knew what that was.