In Between (Forever, Maybe #1)

1

‘This Is Me Trying’

— Taylor Swift

Lara

“Don’t cry, Butterfly.” I was eight years old when Scott Delgado called me that for the first time.

A white butterfly had landed on my shoulder during one of our arguments.

I screamed loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear.

Scott laughed so hard he nearly fell over before brushing it away with one swipe of his hand.

Then I cried.

It wasn't because I felt scared.

Because he killed it.

“You were just screaming two seconds ago,” he’d said between laughs.

“I know.” I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my shirt. “But it didn’t deserve to die.”

He stared at me for a long moment before shaking his head. “You’re weird.”

I definitely was weird back then. Maybe I still am. All I know is that after that, I was always Butterfly.

Back then, I thought he’d be in my life forever. I just didn’t know forever could feel so temporary.

**

I turn my music to full blast, letting the guitar vibrate through my room. The noise downstairs disappears within the sound. I close my eyes, feeling relaxed. I lie back against my pillow.

My parents are downstairs hosting one of their monthly parties. This one is for my mom getting a job. Anytime there’s a party, it means loud laughter, clinking glasses, and too many adults pretending they were still in their twenties.

It also meant he was down there.

Scott Delgado.

His mom, Sabrina, has been best friends with my mom since they were in high school. Scotty and I never get a break from each other.

I begin to drift off to sleep when a knock on my door wakes me. I groan and pause the song.

“Who is it?” I call out. The doorknob turns before I get an answer. My dad steps inside, leaning against the doorframe.

“Why don’t you come downstairs and join the family?”

he asks, gently. He sits at the foot of my bed, hands resting on his knees.

He already knows I hate these parties. “I don’t feel like it,” I reply.

“You never feel like it. Your mom got a job, let’s celebrate.”

My mom had just gotten a job as a substitute teacher.

It didn’t exactly feel celebration-worthy.

“We can celebrate later.”

“Come downstairs.” The softness in his voice was gone.

He was not asking anymore. I roll my eyes, but stand up anyway.

My white fuzzy socks slide slightly against the wooden floor as I follow him out.

Each step down the staircase creaks beneath my feet, one of the many signs that our house is old.

The chatter grows louder as I get closer.

When I reach the bottom of the steps, the first person I see is Scotty.

The most popular boy in school.

The “best” basketball player in the district (according to select sources).

The boy I’d spent my entire life trying not to care about.

And best of all, my greatest enemy.

“Well, well, well,” he said, crossing his arms. A slow smirk stretches across his stupidly handsome face. “Look who finally decided to crawl out of her cave.”

“It’s my house, dingbat.” I quip.

“Feisty now, aren’t we?”

“Maybe I’m just losing my patience,” I remark. He clutches his chest dramatically. “Ow, my heart.” I force myself not to react. My eyes scan the room instead, suddenly feeling underdressed.

“Still wearing those fuzzy socks?”

“Oh, shut it.”

While everyone is wearing dresses or fancy blouses, I’m in a sweater and leggings.

Platters of appetizers covered the kitchen island.

Sabrina definitely helped make them. She's an amazing cook.

One of the few reasons I like going over to Scotty’s house.

My aunts and uncles, whom I only saw twice a year, stood in small circles pretending to care about politics. My eyes land back on Scotty.

My mom stumbles over and wraps an arm around my shoulders. The scent of alcohol was prominent on her breath.

“Lara, dear,” she says, her words slightly slurred. I knew this party was an excuse so she could get drunk. “You and Scott would be such a cute couple.” I stiffened. Never in a million years. Sharing a zip code with Scotty was torture enough.

“Yeah, Lara,” Scotty teases. “We’d be an amazing couple.” My face reddens. I’d never date anyone. While everyone else collected first kisses and heartbreaks, I was still writing about them instead.

“You're insufferable,” I mutter. My mom wanders off again to go talk to one of my distant uncles. The noise pressed in on me from every direction. This is exactly why I locked myself upstairs. Solitary felt safer.

“What are you going to do about it?” Scotty said. “Write about it in your little fairytale journal.” He’s referring to the pink journal I write in every day about the book I’m yearning to publish. “It’s my book,” I shot back.

“If you’re going to be an author, at least share your ideas.”

“It’s not finished.” I deflect.

“You’ve been working on that thing since middle school. Try something new, Butterfly.” The nickname makes my jaw tighten.

“Don’t call me that,” I mumble.

“I’ll call you whatever I want.” Even though he is smirking, his voice is stern.

“Scotty.”

“You can’t call me that,” he folds his arms.

“That's not fair,” I reply, giving him a skeptical look.

“I make the rules.”

“You’re acting like a toddler.”

“You’re such a dork,” he teases.

Before I could respond, his mom called from the doorway.

“Scott, time to go.” He flashes one last sly smile before following her out.

I let out a breath I did not realize I had been holding.

That was my cue to disappear. Back upstairs, I shut my bedroom door and lean against it.

The scent of vanilla drifted through the air from the candle on my vanity.

I loved vanilla. It was soft and calm. It did not demand attention.

My friends aren’t really nice to me. My parents won’t even let me have a dog. People at school thought I was weird because I kept to myself. I don’t think I’m weird. I read. I write. I stay out of drama. That seems normal to me. High school just had a way of making normal feel wrong.

5 years later

‘The 1’

— Taylor Swift

Lara

Becoming a New York Times bestselling author was supposed to fix me.

It didn’t.

My alarm blares at nine in the morning, dragging me out of another dream I can’t remember. Ever since my book became a bestseller, I have been trying to get on a schedule to work on my next book. ‘Betting on Something More’, my debut book, got so much love.

I walk over to my bathroom, taking my hair out of the heatless curls I slept in. I run my fingers through the length. I unlock my phone to check for new messages and stare at my lock screen, a picture of my book cover. I really have no other motivation in life.

I have an incoming message from my best friend, Aurora. Bitch, guess who just made news headlines?

I respond quickly because the message was from midnight last night.

She was probably drunk. Who? I reply. Her response is almost immediate, Scott Delgado.

Why is he making news headlines? I haven’t heard from him in years.

We haven't spoken since high school. Fine by me.

My heart is pounding hard at the mention of my high school lover.

I open my phone to check the news, sure enough, it states ‘Rookie Basketball Player Scores 30 Points on First NBA Game.’

Of course, he got drafted. I mean, Scott Delgado was always the best basketball player.

I roll my eyes, wanting to vomit. I just want him to disappear from my life.

I click on the link. The basketball team he joined in the NBA is the New York Tigers.

So he lives here now, too? Cool. Literally amazing.

Ew, you’re right. I hope he breaks a leg, literally.

I texted Aurora back; my stomach feels sick.

I don’t miss him. I repeat to myself over and over again, every day, something slightly reminds me of him.

Like the other night, a butterfly landed on me.

I dug out the necklace he gave me from storage.

I never got rid of it. I never will either.

I also found my notebook where I wrote letters to him. I read a few.

Dear, Scotty

You went away. I had to pick up the pieces of myself after you left.

You can’t just leave without telling me.

I love you, goddamn it! You stupid idiot, we could’ve made a life together.

It seemed to me that you liked me. I genuinely believed you were the one.

If only you would return to me. Scotty, I'm not doing well.

I’d give anything to hear you call me ‘Butterfly’ one last time.

I’d give anything for one more kiss, one more feel of your soft brown hair. I can never forgive you.

The memories of writing the letter flow back when I read it.

It was 4 pages long, of just me pouring out my heart into the letter.

I couldn’t take the pain of him leaving me; I was just a heartbroken teenager.

There are 3 notebooks full of letters, then I quit.

I moved to New York after high school to attend NYU and study English. I gave up on you.

Exiting my apartment, I head down to the busy streets of New York. I begin my journey to my favorite coffee shop, where I meet Aurora every day. I order myself a caramel frappe, then sit down outside. I wait for her, she’s late like always. I’ve been out of college for a little less than a year.

Aurora rushes over to me, setting her purse down on the table, then sits down in the seat across from me.

“Sorry, I’m late, girl. I barely slept last night.” Her blonde curly hair is a complete frizzy mess, and her under-eye circles are covered by a concealer a little too light for her, but the concealer isn’t covering much.

“It’s okay, you still look good as always.” Aurora is always out partying. I join her sometimes, but it’s not my crowd.

“Thank you, babe.” She walks inside to order some coffee, then returns with the largest size of black coffee. I watch her sit back down; she’s wearing a baggy sweatshirt. October is currently the perfect season for writers. Which is why I love that it’s fall.

In my opinion, winter is the worst season, not because of the horrible weather and the snow, no, it’s because winter is where I thought I found true love.

“Okay, so back to the topic I was texting you about… Your lover boy from 5 years ago moved to New York? Is it just a coincidence, or does he still miss you?” I groan at the mention of Scott; he does not miss me. He got drafted. It's not like a college where he gets to pick which team he wants.

“He doesn’t miss me; he would’ve texted by now.” Ghosting me for 5 years isn’t the Scott I know, or I never really knew him. Either thing could be true, I guess we’ll never know.

“Or maybe he’s waiting for you to make the first move!”

I told her everything about Scott, everything that happened in high school.

We met in college three years ago. I am no longer the shy little girl that was scared to talk to anyone.

Aurora and I have a big circle of friends.

We just prefer to be together. Aurora and I meet for coffee every other day, unless she has work.

I try to keep myself in the loop with friends, so I don’t become depressed.

I’m writing a new book, one about two people falling in love a little too young, then he messes everything up for no explanation. Sound familiar? It’s heavily inspired by me and Scott’s relationship.