over and pulled it back. There was a twig underneath, so I tossed it to the side.
“You need some help with that?”
I looked up and found her eyes on me. I smiled and shook my head.
“Now you ask, after all the work’s done, as usual, my dear,” I answered her.
A playful side-smile hung on my lips.
She gave me her best pouting face and threw her hands on her hips.
I, on the other hand, made a quick decision to take full advantage of the moment and get a good look at her. Her hair was down and fell in waves against the sides of her face. And she was wearing a tight tank top and jean shorts, and at the bottom of her long, tan legs, were her favorite, little boat shoes. She called them something else, but I was pretty sure, in the end, they were just plain old boat shoes. Though, somehow, she still managed to look as cute as hell in them.
“Get over here, pretty girl,” I demanded then.
I watched her saunter over to me, her playful smile growing. And when she got close enough, I reached up, scooped her into my arms and fell back against the quilt and the soft earth.
“How much longer do we have?” she asked, nuzzling her head into my chest.
“Oh, probably about a couple more minutes,” I said, squeezing her closer still.
“Sing to me then,” she said.
She pulled her head back and found my stare just as a smile was forcing its way to my lips.
“What do you want me to sing?” I asked.
“A song about us,” she said, tracing with her delicate fingertips the places around my eyes and nose and then lips.
“Okay then,” I eventually said, slowly nodding my head.
Satisfied, I guessed, she rested her head back onto my chest, and I watched pieces of her hair fall over her sun-kissed shoulder as she made herself comfortable. Then, my mind went to stringing together some words for her song. And when I had them, I brought my lips closer to her ears and whispered her a melody:
“Though you’d rather watch a sappy ending
Than a football game
And you’re not very good at fleeing the scene
Without a sprain,
I wouldn’t want it any other way
I’m yours forever, My Butterfly
So, looks like you’re stuck with me
‘Til the end of time.”
When I finished singing, she was laughing.
“How romantic,” she exclaimed.
There was sarcasm in her voice.
“I wrote it myself—just for you,” I proudly said.
“Thanks. I’ll just do some creative interpreting, I guess,” she said, meeting my eyes before returning to her place on my chest.
“But seriously, though, minus those passionate words, you can really get a girl’s attention,” she said. “You should sing, you know, for people, as a career. You’ve got a gift. You can’t hide it forever.”
I raised my head off the ground again.
“Why can’t I?” I asked.
She met my gaze. Her long eyelashes batted impatiently.
I saw an opportunity to kiss her pretty forehead, so I did. She smiled but seemed to stay focused on her mission.
“Because someday, somewhere, somebody’s gonna find out. Then what are you going to do?” she asked.
“Easy,” I said. “Tell them I’ve got everything I need right here.”
I squeezed my arms tighter around her little body.
“Wouldn’t it be a dream come true though?” she asked. “Plus, you would be doing the world a severe injustice if you didn’t.”
I quietly chuckled to myself.
“Mine is a far simpler dream, my sweet Jules,” I whispered into her ear.
“See what I mean with that voice; I almost believed you,” she said, softly laughing.
“Jules, trust me,” I said. “My life’s a dream already. I don’t need to go chasin’ somethin’ somewhere else.”
She paused before she spoke again.
“You haven’t even thought about it just once?” she asked.
I smiled and shrugged my shoulders.
“Not once,” I said.
“But you like singing, right?” she asked.
I traced the little lines in the green part of her eyes for a few seconds. Then, I kissed her lips to slow down
“You need some help with that?”
I looked up and found her eyes on me. I smiled and shook my head.
“Now you ask, after all the work’s done, as usual, my dear,” I answered her.
A playful side-smile hung on my lips.
She gave me her best pouting face and threw her hands on her hips.
I, on the other hand, made a quick decision to take full advantage of the moment and get a good look at her. Her hair was down and fell in waves against the sides of her face. And she was wearing a tight tank top and jean shorts, and at the bottom of her long, tan legs, were her favorite, little boat shoes. She called them something else, but I was pretty sure, in the end, they were just plain old boat shoes. Though, somehow, she still managed to look as cute as hell in them.
“Get over here, pretty girl,” I demanded then.
I watched her saunter over to me, her playful smile growing. And when she got close enough, I reached up, scooped her into my arms and fell back against the quilt and the soft earth.
“How much longer do we have?” she asked, nuzzling her head into my chest.
“Oh, probably about a couple more minutes,” I said, squeezing her closer still.
“Sing to me then,” she said.
She pulled her head back and found my stare just as a smile was forcing its way to my lips.
“What do you want me to sing?” I asked.
“A song about us,” she said, tracing with her delicate fingertips the places around my eyes and nose and then lips.
“Okay then,” I eventually said, slowly nodding my head.
Satisfied, I guessed, she rested her head back onto my chest, and I watched pieces of her hair fall over her sun-kissed shoulder as she made herself comfortable. Then, my mind went to stringing together some words for her song. And when I had them, I brought my lips closer to her ears and whispered her a melody:
“Though you’d rather watch a sappy ending
Than a football game
And you’re not very good at fleeing the scene
Without a sprain,
I wouldn’t want it any other way
I’m yours forever, My Butterfly
So, looks like you’re stuck with me
‘Til the end of time.”
When I finished singing, she was laughing.
“How romantic,” she exclaimed.
There was sarcasm in her voice.
“I wrote it myself—just for you,” I proudly said.
“Thanks. I’ll just do some creative interpreting, I guess,” she said, meeting my eyes before returning to her place on my chest.
“But seriously, though, minus those passionate words, you can really get a girl’s attention,” she said. “You should sing, you know, for people, as a career. You’ve got a gift. You can’t hide it forever.”
I raised my head off the ground again.
“Why can’t I?” I asked.
She met my gaze. Her long eyelashes batted impatiently.
I saw an opportunity to kiss her pretty forehead, so I did. She smiled but seemed to stay focused on her mission.
“Because someday, somewhere, somebody’s gonna find out. Then what are you going to do?” she asked.
“Easy,” I said. “Tell them I’ve got everything I need right here.”
I squeezed my arms tighter around her little body.
“Wouldn’t it be a dream come true though?” she asked. “Plus, you would be doing the world a severe injustice if you didn’t.”
I quietly chuckled to myself.
“Mine is a far simpler dream, my sweet Jules,” I whispered into her ear.
“See what I mean with that voice; I almost believed you,” she said, softly laughing.
“Jules, trust me,” I said. “My life’s a dream already. I don’t need to go chasin’ somethin’ somewhere else.”
She paused before she spoke again.
“You haven’t even thought about it just once?” she asked.
I smiled and shrugged my shoulders.
“Not once,” I said.
“But you like singing, right?” she asked.
I traced the little lines in the green part of her eyes for a few seconds. Then, I kissed her lips to slow down
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