Creative Writing

Butterflies Part 1

“Hey Ashley!” Ugh. My cover has been ruined. A blonde girl with dull, green eyes approaches me. How could she have seen me? I snuck into this party like a Navy SEAL. The key is to come in right behind someone loud and go straight to the bathroom. Once you come out, no one will notice that you just arrived. I hate greetings. I hate parties. Why did I even come to this thing? Just for the off chance that he will be here? Sometimes I really despise myself. I take a deep breath, wipe all of the cynical things from my mind, and flash my most convincing smile.

“Hi Aubrey, what’s up?”

“Nothin’ much. How about you? I haven’t seen you in forever.” She starts to ramble on about how I ‘never come to these kind of things anymore’ and ‘do I still like to have root beer chugging competitions’ and other mindless courtesies that people do to seem interested in other’s lives. I smile and nod, not really listening to anything she’s saying. My eyes scan the groups of people in the backyard. The butterflies in my stomach flutter with hope, anticipation, and nervousness. From what I can see, he isn’t here. The butterflies stop flying and wilt. I feel my smile become slightly less sincere then it already was, which probably means that I look like someone who has taken one too many prom pictures.

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