Page 159 of Fly's Path

What? “You’re telling me you have a butterfly on your left cheek?”

“Yeah, and to remind me of that lesson and never to give your trust to people who don’t deserve it, I kept the name Fly.”

“You have a butterfly on your left cheek.”

“Sheri, it’s not that funny.”

“Am I laughing? I’m not. You need to let me up. I have to show you something.”

“Your response feels odd.”

That’s because I’m in shock. I start wiggling to get up. “I need to show you something.”

“Sheri, I just told you a story about something that traumatized me, and that’s how you respond?”

I turn around and give him a peck on the lips. “You’re right. I’m sorry that happened to you…No, I’m not. That’s a lie. I’m sad it traumatized you, and I’m really glad you were able to draw strength from it instead of letting it destroy you. But I’m not sorry they put a butterfly on you.”

“Sheri?”

“Let me up.” I look him in the eye to let him know I’m serious.

His arms let go, and I pop up. Am I brave enough to do this? It’s just a tattoo. “Close your eyes?”

“What are you—”

“Just do it before I run out of courage.”

He closes his eyes. “Whatever it is that’s going on in your brain, you don’t need to hide it from me.”

“That’s the thing, My Prince, I’m actually trying to be really open with you. It’s just a little embarrassing. But you told me your story, I can show you mine.”

“Show me? Are you showing me your tattoo? Just where is your tattoo that I need to close my eyes?”

That man makes me blush. “Somewhere where no one would ever see it.”

“I’m liking this idea…a lot. Wait, who tattooed you?”

I unbutton the top button of my jeans. “You need to get over this jealous thing a little faster.”

“I’m trying.”

“Not very hard, it seems.” He’s right, but also wrong. I tug down the side of my jeans and turn to face away from him. “Fine, open your eyes.”

“Sheri, you have a cute…oh…Oh. It’s a butterfly. You have a butterfly.”

“On my left cheek.” I tug up my jeans and button my button as fast as I can. “So can you see why I don’t hate that you have a butterfly on you?”

“Yeah, princess, I can.” He holds his arms out to me.

Without any grace or pretense, I collapse into them. “Sometimes it terrifies me how exactly right we are for each other.”

“You know what that means?”

“What?” I tuck my face into his chest, not wanting to look into his eyes ever again.

“You’re right. I think you were made just for me.”

But what if my butterfly prince flies away…