Hi! This is my first story in English, I hope you like it!

The facts are totally invented and the story was not written for profit

Mariposa

Jojo wakes up all mornings at the sunrise.

She looks at the lavender sky, brushing carelessly her golden hair, and, while the sun slowly rises, thinks at him.

When Alberto wakes up, the sun has risen from a couple of hours.

His ears whistling constantly every morning, since he has known her.

Jojo's fingers run fast on the computer keyboard.

Just a few chapters, the manuscript is almost finished, to the delight of her editor who calls her continually every week.

She lights a cigarette, while drawing the first drag her gaze falls on the cellphone lying on the table.

Jojo wants to take it, then, her long thin fingers retract, timorous.

She nibbles her lips nervously, staring at the phone.

Then, she sighs and goes back to writing.

Alberto leaves the ring for training, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

He takes the phone from the sport bag, and looks at the screen for a moment.

No calls, no messages, no life signs.

Frowning, he looks for her number in the phone directory.

His thumb is already on the green button, when from the other side of the room Jesus called him.

Suddenly he remits the phone into the bag and headed for his friend, wishing him with the thought a rash.

Black eyes like ebony stare the blank.

That damned cellphone doesn't ring.

She still seems to hear that voice, to see that smile so irresistible.

Jojo begins to lose hope, and sanity.

The phone seems to vibrate continuously.

Alberto pulls it out throbbing from his jacket pocket, only to discover that they're not really calling him.

That SHE is NOT calling him really.

His colleagues look him sideways, a little confused.

He seems like a jerk, because of her.

"Damn it" Jojo mumbles, and dials the number.

"Damn it" Alberto grumbles, and presses the green button.

Occupied.

Maybe he's talking with his mother.

Or maybe he's talking with a friend.

Or maybe he's talking with a GIRL.

Jojo takes a cigarette, and as he tries whooping the lighter into the bag she feels a twinge in the stomach.

Occupied.

. .with?

Alberto sighs heavily.

He want to hear her voice again, that sweet chuckle.

He tries to call again, staring annoyed John laughing with AJ.

Jojo looks at the phone ringing.

His name lights up on the display, and it takes her breath away.

"Hello?".

"Hi, Mariposa *".

Jojo smiles, she doesn't know why he gave her that nickname.

Alberto smiles, he knows why he gave her that nickname.

As soon as he saw her, at that friends party, that word was the first word that came him to mind.

He likes that word of his language, beyond meaning, he likes the sound of it, it's a sweet, delicate word.

A word that he hoped to use with someone really special.

And that writer from Valladolid come to America, with blond hair and black eyes, who speaks like a book, and that she touched his cheek with a slight kiss before leaving, Alberto it is more than safe, it is a really special person.

"How are you?".

"I want to see you again".

"Oh, you're going straight to the point".

"I don't like turns of phrase".

"I earn my living with turns of phrase...anyway ... I want to see you again too ... ".

Alberto speaks low, trying to avoid the eyes of his companions.

He already knows that they are gossiping to no end.

Alberto speaks in a low voice, trying to avoid the eyes of his companions.

He already knows that they are gossiping to no end.

They chatter as they want, those long tongues, now the only voice that matters him is Jojo's voice.

*Means "Butterfly" in English.