A Girl Named Payton Series:
Chelsea's Butterflies
---
"Let me tell you something about Payton," Tom was saying on the way to this stranger's house, "She's a playa."
"You mean a slut?" I scoff.
"No. She's gay. She gets all the ladies too. So be careful, if she likes you... you'll probably sleep with her."
I laugh, not believing him in any way whatsoever.
"We'll see about that," I say, no idea what I'm getting myself into.
---
It all started with her, Payton's, jacket. See, the four of us were out at the park sitting by the pond. Tom was throwing small pebbles at the blue gills, Wendy was listening to him talk about the pond's color, Payton was zoned out, and I, Nikki, was shivering. I pulled out the blunt I had just rolled up in the car. Payton looked up at me and I laughed as I lit it,
"I don't why I got so cold of a sudden,"
She got up suddenly, and before she even asked, "Want my jacket?" she was emptying her pockets (which were full of my shit in the first place) into her others.
"Yeah, sure," I looked over and watched her take it off.
I hadn't really noticed before, but Payton had really toned arms. I caught myself staring at them as she stepped to the side of me. At first I was confused but then I realized, she was putting the jacket on me. Her knuckles gently brushed my arm as she pulled one sleeve, than the other. I had been cold before but the sudden goose bumps surprised me. I reached for the zipper and our hands made a collision.
Whatever was left of Tom and Wendy's conversation had dissipated from my mind. She was practically holding me against her as she zipped up the jacket, my hands lingering at the bottom. I felt this exploding excitement, like a thousand butterflies just suddenly were woken in my belly, they flew out of me and turned into the sparkling sunlight on the pond. Tom threw a bigger rock and the light disappeared somewhere along the ripples. Payton let go of me and returned to her seat.
"Chelsea, are you going to light that blunt or are we here to see the view?"
I stared at the pond, glancing at Payton out of my peripherals. I handed her the blunt first, our hands brushing together, that familiar explosion when we touched. I had felt it there before, I knew, it was just so small until now. My eyes danced from the baby blue stripes on the sleeves, the baby blue that corresponded to Payton's outfit, on her fedora, her neon shoes, even her shirt had baby blue splattered all over it. She was stylish. She was attractive.
That girl was smoother than even the finest woven silk.
---
Later, she'll look at me while we rode in Tom's want to be sport car. She'll have a cocky smirk smeared on her face and her eyes will glint with confidence.
"You can't deny it," She'll ask, baiting my curiosity.
"What's that?"
"You looked good in my hoodie."
I laugh and shake my head. When I look back at her, there is a softer smile on her face. Her eyes trace my body slowly. Just as Tom begins to turn up the music, she says to me,
"You looked even better in my arms."
---
Two weeks prior to these events, Tom started hanging out with me more often. Tom was dating Wendy, a quiet girl with black hair and an aura that draws you in despite her shyness. The two of them always hung out with Payton, who lived a half hour away and lived a completely different life then the three of us were used to. She was younger than all of us, 18 years old, yet already had her own place, was going to college, and completely on her own.
Tom and Wendy both had dropped out of school long ago and currently lived with Wendy's mom. I lived with my parents and recently graduated. I was 19 and had no plans for the future. Compared to what Payton had already accomplished, it seemed like we were nobody important. Yet she hung out with the three of us all the time and was nothing but a good friend.
Considering all the time we had spent together, the others more than I, none of us really knew much about her. She was flirty and witty, liked a variety of music and video games, and was considerably mature compared to most people I knew. We had never seen her drink yet we smoked weed with her every day. Her parents were absent from her life and her dad was never even mentioned. Often, the two of us joked of a secret lesbian affair, an ironic cover-up for the sexual tension I believed was actually between us.
I got to see more sides of her than Tom and Wendy did. Often the two of them would start arguing. I would look away from them and rub my head. Payton would come up to me, touch my arm, say my name, ask me to go somewhere with her alone. We'd sit in their bedroom, their living room, even Tom's cars, and just talk. We'd talk mostly of Tom and Wendy. Sometimes, she'd ask me questions like, did you ever think about being with a woman, than, when did I decide I wanted to sleep with her?
I'd laugh at the second and say no to the first. She'd turn on music when we were in the car, scoot closer, than rest her face on the seat. If we were in the living room, she'd slip an arm behind me, around the couch. In the bed, she'd roll over and face me, inches away from my face. She'd open up to me about how sometime she'd like to just be with me, without Tom and Wendy. Not that they were bad. But still.
I'd think about how it was probably because she thought she could sleep with me. I surprised myself every time when I was OK with that. I would always tell her, "We should. We should."
---
"I might not be able to make it to the party," Payton was saying, looking up at me from the cubby hole she had made next to my chair.
The party she talks of is in two days.
There had been no seats left in her living room. She said she was trying to be a good hostess. I wonder if she's trying to be close to me. I secretly wish for it.
