Creative Writing

Butterflies Part 4

I look up to see him talking to Aubrey and Phoebe. Aubrey is playfully hitting him on the arm while Phoebe twirls her hair. They both have boyfriends, mind you, but that doesn’t stop the twinges of jealousy I feel prickling all over my body. Memories come flooding back to me. When we were best friends. The late night calls. Inside jokes about the stupidest, most wonderful things. I look back down to my pizza, which is now just a crust and the remaining two Sour Patch kids I have on my plate. I don’t want him to see me staring. I pull out my flip phone (I know, it’s the lamest thing ever) and pretend to be texting someone. Don’t want to seem like I’m just sitting here, doing nothing but pining over my old best friend! I hear his loud laugh, and it is a painful reminder of when I used to whisper things in his ear and make him shout with laughter.

“Hey!” I look up, and there he is, walking towards me. He had confidence in his gait, like no one can tell him who he is or what to do because he’s always known. So unlike me.

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