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Chapter Six: Bubblegum and Butterflies by Lynette Ferreira



The air in the library was heavy with the scent of books and the faint hum of the air conditioning. Charlize sat at their usual table. Her notebook was open but blank. Her cast-covered arm rested awkwardly on the edge, while her left hand hovered uselessly over the page. Her frustration simmered beneath the surface, threatening to boil over.

Daniel was late. Again.

She tapped her pen against the table, the rhythmic sound echoing in the quiet space. Just as she was about to text her mom and call it a day, Daniel sauntered in, his skateboard tucked under one arm, earbuds dangling from his neck. He dropped into the chair across from her, the faint scent of pine soap and asphalt following him.

"You’re late," Charlize snapped, her voice sharper than she intended.

"Relax, princess," he drawled, leaning back in his chair. "I’m here, aren’t I?"

Her glare was enough to make him sit up straighter. "I need your help," she admitted grudgingly, her cheeks burning. "I can’t figure out how to organize my notes for the essay on To Kill a Mockingbird. The pain in my arm makes it impossible to hold a pen long enough."

Daniel raised an eyebrow, a flicker of genuine interest crossing his face. "Let me see what you’ve got."

Charlize pushed the notebook across the table, her movements stiff. Daniel flipped through her notes, his dark eyes scanning the messy bullet points she’d managed to scribble before the pain had overwhelmed her. He tapped the page thoughtfully. "You’re overcomplicating it. Keep the points simple and focus on themes, like justice and morality."

Charlize sighed. "That’s easy for you to say."

"No," Daniel said, his tone softening. "It’s easy for me to help."

For a moment, she stared at him, her annoyance giving way to something she could not quite name. She watched as he bent over the notebook, his pen moving quickly as he jotted down clear, concise notes. His handwriting was surprisingly neat, each word carefully formed.

"There," he said, sliding the notebook back. "That should make it easier."

Charlize glanced at the page, her frustration ebbing slightly as she read his work. "Thanks," she murmured, barely audible.

Daniel leaned back, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. "Told you I’m not completely useless."

She rolled her eyes but did not bother to retort. Instead, she reached for her phone, needing a distraction from the strange warmth spreading in her chest. Scrolling through her playlist, she hit play on one of her favourite songs by accident. The soft strumming of an acoustic guitar filled the air.

"Is that City and Colour?" Daniel asked, his voice cutting through the quiet.

Charlize blinked, caught off guard. "Yeah. You know them?"

Daniel shrugged, but his expression betrayed him. "Their stuff’s not bad. That one’s ‘The Girl,’ right?"

A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Yeah. It’s my favourite."

For a brief moment, the tension between them dissolved. Daniel leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. "They’ve got this raw honesty, you know? Like they’re not trying too hard. Just... real."

Charlize nodded, surprised by how much his words resonated with her own feelings about the music. "Exactly."

The corner of his mouth lifted in a lopsided grin. "Maybe you’re not as basic as I thought."

She rolled her eyes, but there was no bite in her response. "And maybe you’re not as insufferable as I thought."

The words hung between them, and for a second, Charlize thought the hostility might be fading but then Daniel leaned back again, the smirk slipping into something more guarded.

"Don’t get used to this, princess," he said, his voice laced with faux bravado. "I’m still me."

Charlize felt her walls snap back into place, the brief connection slipping away like sand through her fingers. "And I’m still me," she replied coolly, pulling her notebook closer.

They worked in silence after that, the fragile truce between them already fading but Charlize couldn’t shake the memory of Daniel’s lopsided grin or the way his words had felt unexpectedly genuine.







Copyright © Lynette Ferreira. All Rights Reserved. 
All work created and posted on this blog is the intellectual property of Lynette Ferreira.

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