My latest obsession has become the 'Mediator' series by Meg Cabot, so then a plot bunny bit me. My mom and my sister and I went to this little greenhouse because my mom wanted more flowers for our deck, and while we were there I saw a little white butterfly, and then I thought that Jesse probably has seen a butterfly up close since he died (because animals don't like ghosts) and then I thought about butterfly kisses, and then this came out. So I hope you enjoy it!
"I haven't seen a butterfly in a hundred and fifty years," Jesse murmured. I watched as a little white butterfly flitted past his nose and landed on a hot pink flower in front of us.
Jesse and I had been coasting through Carmel on our way out to lunch, because, now that he was alive and it was summer, he was super busy prepping for his SATs so he could start college in the fall, and we hadn't had a lot of time to spend together. It also didn't help that Andy had made me get a job again.
Anyway, we had been riding through town when I had saw this cute little greenhouse on the corner, so I asked Jesse to stop for a minute so I could look around a bit. Hey, I wasn't only thinking of myself. I mean, Jesse had been dead for a century and a half, and I was sure in all that time he hadn't gone out and smelled the roses. Or daisies, or phlox, or whatever other flowers they have out here.
And, while I am definitely not your typical teenage girl, I am certainly no Kelly Prescot, so I am not obsessed with flowers by any means. But I am a girl, and it was probably coded in my DNA that I at least like flowers like every other girl in the universe.
So I asked Jesse very, very sweetly to pull over, just for a minute, so I could go check out some flowers.
When we walked inside, this hippyish-looking girl was at the counter, cracking her gum as she read a National Geographic magazine. Her sproingy, auburn curls were piled on top of her head, and she was wearing an olive-colored T-shirt with a big white 'Peace' sign on the front. She kind of nodded at us as I dragged my somewhat reluctant boyfriend past all the birdhouses, gardening tools, and lawn ornaments.
A set big, wrought iron double doors looked about right, one door held open by a little fire hydrant statue and revealing splashes of vibrant color. I pulled Jesse away from the seed packet rack, though I don't understand what's so interesting about pictures of flowers and vegetables, and out into the greenhouse part of the store.
Immediately, I took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of blooming flowers and wet soil, a pleasant change of pace from the usual smells of exhaust fumes and the salty Pacific. Not that I have anything against either; I was raised in Brooklyn, New York after all.
I released Jesse's warm, sinewy hand and wandered through the rows of wooden shelves. Plastic containers of pink, yellow, orange, red, white, and violet flowers crowded each other on the shelves, fighting for space and sunlight. The abundance of flowers made the air sweet with their heady perfume, and while I was busying myself burying my nose in all the flowers and coating the tip in pollen, I hadn't noticed Jesse come up behind me.
"My sisters used to love flowers," I heard him whisper, and, I'll admit it, his voice scared me. I mean, you can't go sneaking up on a person, even if they happen to be your girlfriend. He's lucky I love him so much, or he might be holding broken nasal cartilage.
I felt him slip his fingers into mine and give them a gentle squeeze. Even though I couldn't see his face, I knew what he was thinking: he was really missing his sisters.
And I understood. I had lost my dad when I was just six, but because I have a 'special talent', I didn't miss him too much. That is, until recently, when his spirit finally moved on. But even though I saw my dad quite a bit more often than other people who've lost their families, that didn't make me miss him any less.
And losing a parent is different from losing your siblings, though Jesse didn't really lose them so much as they lost him, and judging from what little information Jesse had shared with me concerning his family, he really cared about his sisters, and that being here was dredging up painful memories.
And that was when he saw the butterfly.
The butterfly fluttered over to a yellow daylily and daintily perched on the petals. Jesse's liquid eyes followed the butterfly, gazing at it in awe. His hand released mine and long, brown fingers reached out, as if he was going to touch it.
Fortunately, I beat him to the punch before the butterfly flew away. I carefully lifted the plastic pot off the shelf and held it under Jesse's nose, the butterfly's wings very gently brushing against his nose.
His deep brown eyes widened as the butterfly's soft, papery wings caressed the end of his nose. He watched it in wonder as its wings slowly waved back and forth, but eventually, it fluttered away. I thought for a moment that he looked crestfallen as his eyes watched the little white butterfly dart away.
"That's called a butterfly kiss," I said, holding the plastic pot and its yellow blossoms to my chest.
Jesse's eyes left the butterfly and fell to my face. His right eyebrow slowly rose, the small, white scar from a childhood dog bite becoming even more pronounced as he did so. "But the butterfly didn't kiss me," he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his thin-but-wide mouth.
I socked him lightly on the arm. He laughed. Then, an idea crossed my mischievous mind, so I smirked at him and then started walking away from him.
Breathless with laughter, Jesse chased after me. "Aw, Susannah," he said, wrapping his large hand around my wrist. "You aren't mad at me, are you?"
I peeked at him over the daylilies. I still hadn't put them down. "No," I replied mysteriously.
Jesse gave me that innocent-yet-strangely-adorable look I swear all guys must have programmed into them at birth, so I sighed in defeat and turned around. I could see he was scrutinizing my face, searching for any signs as to why, or even if, I was angry. I batted my eyelashes at him, leaned forward, my breath caressing his face, and I could tell he thought I was going to kiss him because his lips got all relaxed and his eyelids slowly drifted shut, his long eyelashes brushing against his cheekbones.
God, you have no idea how much I wanted to kiss those luscious lips of his. I mean, I had already started, unconsciously of course, leaning forward, gazing at his mouth through hooded eyes. But I wasn't done with him just yet, and if he wanted a kiss out of me, he was going to have to work harder.
But God, it took all I had not to kiss him.
Instead, I shoved the plastic pot into his gut, and in return I received a very satisfying groan. His eyelids fluttered back open and he furrowed his brow, trying to figure my angle.
But Jesse isn't the only one who can read people.
I batted my eyelashes at him, and I saw his jaw tremble. "You know that there is more than one type of butterfly kiss?" I whispered, quirking my lip. He shook his head. I nodded in understanding. "Do you want me to show it to you?" Jesse tilted his head to the side and looked thoughtful before bobbing his head, his crisp black hair gently swaying with the motion.
"Close your eyes." I loved how I could tell my boyfriend what to do. I am in no way a tyrannical, controlling girlfriend, and I don't mind it at all when Jesse takes the lead, being raised that way and all, but it is so empowering when I have so much power over the man I love.
Jesse closed his eyes. I slowly brought my head closer to his until my eyes were millimeters from his mouth. Then I began to blink, my eyelashes brushing against his lips. The corners of his lips turned skyward as I moved from his mouth to his jaw and then up his cheek. My hands, which were pressed against his chest, vibrated as he chuckled, but I felt his sharp intake of breath when my eyelashes fluttered against his ear. "That's also a butterfly kiss," I murmured in his ear.
"Querida," I heard him whisper as he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer. As I was about to 'kiss' his neck, long brown fingers took a hold of my chin and Jesse turned my head to face his. As soon as he did, I was immediately lost in his liquid brown eyes and I would have drowned in them if he hadn't said, "You still haven't kissed me yet."
A smile spread across my face as he brought my chin forward and kissed me. God, even after all the times he's kissed me, including the times he didn't have a heartbeat, my knees still go weak and I still melt in his embrace like I did the first time his lips touched mine.
As much as I wanted to continue kissing him, Jesse broke off the kiss and grinned. Unwinding his arms from waist, and I was very reluctant to have him do so, he reached over and picked up the pot with the daylilies in it. The one that the butterfly had landed on and the one I had shoved into his chest. He held it up, his smile growing wider. "I think these would look very nice in my window box, no?" he asked, tilting his head.
God, he was just way too cute.
I nodded. "I think so," I replied, looping my arm through his elbow. Jesse kissed my hair as we started out of the greenhouse.
As he was paying for the flowers and a watering can I made him buy—if he was going to grow flowers, I didn't want him to forget to water them—he looked thoughtful again.
"You know," he said, "your butterfly kisses have made me very curious."
"Yeah?" The hippyish-girl with all the curls handed me the receipt.
"Yes. I was wondering what a butterfly kiss would feel like…" Jesse picked up the pot and watering can before whispering in my ear. As soon as he said the place he was wondering, my cheeks began to heat up, and he chuckled at me as we left the store, and not fast enough in my opinion. That girl was staring at us, wondering why I was so red!
Jesse smiled at me, wrapping a muscled arm around my waist as we headed back to his car. "Well, it was just a suggestion," he said.
A/N: Like it? Or not? Please review!