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
cast covered arm rested awkwardly on the edge of the desk, while her hand
hovered uselessly over the page. Her frustration simmered beneath the surface,
and it was threatening to boil over.
Daniel was late. Again.
She tapped her fingers against her open notebook. The
rhythmic sound was echoing in the quiet space. Just as she was about to text
her mom and call it a day, Daniel sauntered in with the faint smell of pine
soap and asphalt following him.
His skateboard was tucked under one arm, and earbuds were dangling
from his neck. He dropped into the chair across from her.
“You’re late,” Charlize snapped. Her voice was sharper than
she had intended it to be.
“Relax, princess,” he drawled as he leaned 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 and felt her cheeks burn with the thought
of being vulnerable in front of him. “I can’t figure out how to organise my
notes for the essay on Cry, the Beloved Country. My arm makes it impossible to
hold a pen long enough.”
Daniel raised an eyebrow as a flicker of genuine interest
crossed his face. “Let me see what you’ve got.”
Charlize pushed the notebook across the table.
Daniel’s dark eyes scanned the messy bullet points she had
managed to scribble on the paper. He tapped his index finger on the page. “You’re
overcomplicating it. Keep the points simple and focus on the themes of the
story, like injustice and redemption.”
Charlize sighed. “That’s easy for you to say.”
“No,” Daniel said, his voice softening. “It’s easy for me to
help.”
For a moment she stared at him and her annoyance gave way to
something she could not quite name. She watched as he bent over the notebook.
His pen moved quickly as he jotted down clear, concise notes. As before, she thought that
his handwriting was surprisingly neat, and each letter was carefully formed.
“There,” he said and slid the notebook back. “That should
make it easier.”
Charlize glanced at the page and her frustration ebbed
slightly as she read his work. “Thanks,” she murmured.
Daniel leaned back and a satisfied smirk was 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 to distract herself from the strange feeling that was
spreading in her chest. As she adjusted it on the table, her finger brushed the
screen, and a familiar melody drifted from her earphones. The soft strumming of
an acoustic guitar filled the air. It was her favourite song, playing by
accident, and yet it felt as if it was somehow fated.
“Is that City and Colour?” Daniel asked.
Charlize blinked and was caught off guard. “Yeah,” she
stammered. “You know them?”
Daniel shrugged, but his expression betrayed him as he
looked her in the eyes. “Their stuff’s not bad. That one’s ‘The Girl’, right?”
A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She could
not help it, really. “Yeah. It’s my favourite.”
For a brief moment it was as if the ever-present simmering tension
between them dissolved. Daniel leaned forward and propped his elbows on the
table. “They’ve got this raw honesty, you know? Like they’re not trying too
hard. Just… real.”
Charlize nodded. She was 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. “And maybe you’re not as insufferable
as I thought.”
The words hung between them and for a moment Charlize
thought that the hostility between them might be fading but then Daniel leaned
back again, the smirk slipping into something more guarded.
“Don’t get to used to this, princess,” he said. His voiced
was laced with faux bravado. “I’m still me.”
Charlize felt her walls snap back into place. The brief
connection between them slipped away like sand through her fingers. “And I’m
still me,” she replied coolly, pulling her notebook closer.
