Chasing Butterflies by Beckie Stevenson Page B

leans over on the bar and stares at me.
    “What?” I grumble as I wipe my face with the back of my hand.
    “What happened between you two?”
    “We broke up.” I take another drink.
    “You broke up with a girl who was dying?”
    I wince at his words. “ She broke up with me ,” I clarify, “and I didn’t know she was dying at that point.”
    “Did she know?”
    I nod. “I think so, yeah.”
    “When did all this happen, Gabriel? And why the fuck didn’t you tell anyone that’s why you came back?”
    I huff and bring the bottle to my lips again. “It happened around Christmas time last year. And it’s no one else’s business.”
    I watch the confusion spread across his face as I down some more whiskey. I can already feel it numbing my pain.
    “But you only just moved back here in May…a couple of months ago.”
    I nod.
    “Why did you leave it so long before coming back?” he pushes.
    “I was trying to get her to take me back, and then I found out she was ill and I really tried to get her to take me back.”
    “Why didn’t she?” he asks, frowning.
    I see tears wobbling in front of my eyes and pinch the skin between them. “She said she’d fallen out of love with me.”
    “Man,” he says, shaking his head. “That shit is rough.” He stands up straight and pulls the bottle from my hand. “Did you love her?”
    “Yes.”
    “Were you in love with her?”
    I look up at him and watch while he pours himself another drink. “Is there a difference?”
    “Yes,” he says. “A big fucking difference. You love your mum, but you’re not in love with your mum, are ya?”
    I’m assuming his question is rhetorical, so I don’t answer him.
    “I’m not sure,” I confess. “I still loved her. And this still really fucking hurts.”
    “I bet it does.” He snatches the bottle away from me, and I try unsuccessfully to grab it from him. “Slow down a little bit,” he tells me, pouring some whiskey into a glass. “You’re going to drink yourself into oblivion.”
    “That’s the general idea,” I say, taking the glass from his hands.
    “Do you know why she killed herself?”
    I shake my head. But that’s exactly what’s been whirling around and around in my head these last few days. “No, I don’t know,” I tell him.
    “Was her illness that bad?”
    I shake my head again. “I don’t think so. Not according to her dad, anyway. I asked him, and he said it wasn’t really making any sort of impact on her day-to-day life. He can’t understand it either.”
    “No note?”
    “Nope. Not even a hint.”
    “How’d she do it?” he pushes.
    My eyes snap to his, and I’m about to tell him that’s none of his business, but Ella Jones chooses that exact moment to slide onto the seat next to me.
    “Hello, handsome,” she says, looking at me.
    “Hi,” says Jonny with a smirk. His eyes move to mine to see if I’m okay. I give him a quick nod.
    Ella clicks her tongue and rubs my arm. “You alright, Gabe? You look a little...quiet.”
    How can someone look quiet? “I’m fine, Ella. Thanks.”
    “Good,” she says brightly. “I, on the other hand, am still suffering from a hangover from the party I had the other night.” She rubs her temples and groans.
    “I wish you’d have come.”
    “I think he almost did,” mumbles Jonny.
    I glare at him over the bar, wishing I’d never told him about how I pinned Yara against a tree and kissed her like my life depended on it.
    “What?” asks Ella.
    “Nothing,” I say. “He was just being a dick. Ignore him.”

Chapter 10
     
     
     
    Yara
     
     
    I step out of the taxi and look down at my new top that has tiny butterflies printed all over it. Then I stare at my new wedges, hoping I can walk in them without making it obvious that I’ve never worn heels before.
    I told the girl in the shop that I wanted to look more grown up, that I wanted to look like I was a young woman rather than a girl. She brought about twelve outfits into the changing