Butterfly Weeds (7 page)

             
I snapped several photos before Rachel’s shrill frightened me, c
ausing me to fumble the camera.

             
“I see lights. Someone’s coming,” Rachel shouted up at Will.

             
All eyes, including Will’s, jetted toward the lights inching down the all-but-abandone
d road as instant panic set in.

             
The old windmill sat secluded almost five miles down a deserted, gravel path. There were no other paths leading out except for the one that we had come in on, and we would have to hurry if we wanted any chance at escaping without detection.

             
“Will, get down,” I shouted, turning my camera off and shoving it back into my jacket pocket.

             
Rachel quickly took off toward the jeep, while Will jumped from the boys’ hold and off of the metal frame. Within seconds, the two boys had scaled the four-foot fence and were darting toward the SUV as well. Rachel was already in the driver’s seat, shouting at everyone else to get into the car by the time Will’s buddies made it to the jeep. One boy grabbed the duffle bag sitting on the ground behind the SUV and jumped into the backseat after the other. Then, Will scaled the fence, grabbed my hand, and together we ran to our get-away car.

             
“Wait, Jules, my tennis shoes,” Will said aloud. “Keep running. I’ll go get them.”

             
Within seconds, he had let go of my hand and was darting toward the back
of the jeep, leaving me behind.

             
But before I could even realize what was happening, a sharp pain raced through my ankle, causing me to fall into a disheveled ball to the ground.

             
“Will,” I screamed, grabbing my ankle.

             
“Jules,” Will shouted as he paused at the jeep’s door, shoes in hand. He had to have been able to see me. The jeep’s lights were, by now, blinding me, adding to my misery.

             
“Go,” Will shouted to Rachel through his mask, throwing his shoes into the back of the jeep. “Come back and get us in an hour.”

             
“I can’t leave you guys here,” Rachel protested. “What if it’s a crazy trucker and t
his turns into a horror movie?”

             
Will paused to look at Rachel. His face was both puzzled and amused.

             
“You’re watching too many movies. It’ll be okay. We’ll be fine. Now go,” I heard Will say again quickly, as he tapped the jeep’s hood and jetted back toward me.

             
Rachel glanced toward the lights in the distance and reluctantly put the car into reverse and then drive and peeled out of the rock-mixed-with-dirt, makeshift parking lot. And within seconds, she and the two boys were on
the open road and out of site.

             
When Will reached me, he scooped me up into his arms and hurriedly carried me over a raised piece of land on the far side of the tower, away from the gravel road. He laid me down on the ground, resting my back up against the dirt and grass-filled hill. The
n, he found a place next to me.

             
“What happened?” Will asked, after he had successfully sheltered us from detection.

             
I squinted as I repositioned my foot and then turned my face toward him. Through my throbbing pain, I bore an awkward smile. I couldn’t help not to.

             
“I stepped in a hole,” I said, groaning. “I think I rolled it or sprained it or something.”

             
Will grabbed a rock about the size of a bowling ball and
gently lifted my foot onto it.

             
“This should help. Try not to move it for now. Does it feel like it’s broken?” he asked.

             
“No, it’s not broken. I’ll be fine,” I answered him, wincing.

             
The sound of tires rolling over loose gravel caused both of us to freeze then. Will turned onto his stomach and peered over the short levee and through its tall, swaying grasses, like he was in some kind of war movie. The clouds had completely covered the moon, and now, the only thing visible was the mysterious car’s two lights. Will watched the headlights slow as the vehicle crept past the metal structure. I lay against the warm soil with my back to the suspenseful scene, still frozen in my place, wishing I could see what wa
s happening, my heart pounding.

             
Seconds drew out until I could no longer hear the gravel crunching underneath the tires’ weight.

             
“Will, who is it?” I whispered nervously.

             
“I think it
’s Brian,” Will whispered back.

             
“It had to be him working tonight, didn’t it?” I whispered. “I still think he missed his calling as Oscar the Grouch’s puppeteer.”

             
Will’s eyes stayed on the stalled car for an agonizing minute before the gravel began to give way again under the pressure of the patrol car’s tires. Will let out a sigh of relief as he watched the vehicle slowly push forward, cont
inuing along its straight path.

             
“Red taillights,” Will exclaimed, sounding relieved.

             
“Well, I think we might have just evaded danger once again, Mary Jane,” Will, now almost giddy and, I’m sure, full of adrenalin
e, announced as he met my eyes.

             
I relaxed my head back against the grassy earth again.

             
“My hero,” I said sarcastically, smiling and letting out an e
normous sigh of relief also.

             
I felt exhausted and in pain, yet full
of life, all at the same time.

             
“How is it that you climbed up and down that old windmill and cleared a chain-linked fence twice as I watched from the safe ground below, and now I’m the one who winds up injured?” I asked.

             
“Why, I’m Spiderman, Honey,” Will said, while making himself comfortable on the
soft, grassy ground beside me.

             
I laughed and rolled my eyes. I somehow found him utterly irresistible in that moment, even in his one-piece, full-body, spandex suit, still complete with its webbed mask.

             
“You know, Mary Jane got to kiss Spiderman after he saved her,” I reminded Will.

             
“Well, then, my damsel in distress, I must get a kiss,” Will proclaimed, pulling off his face mask and leaning over me.

             
I raised my head and touched my lips to his. For a moment, I reveled in the feel of his unrivaled kiss. And butterflies welled up in my stomach as he eventually withdrew his lips from mine and gently kissed my forehead. Heaven must come with sprained ankles, I caught myself thinking.

             
Will was a great kisser. His lips were tender and soft and knew just how to fit perfectly against mine. I loved the way his kisses made me feel – like I was the only girl in the world that could complete him. And even while hiding from the law and lying in a dirt-filled ditch with a throbbing ankle positioned on a hard, rough rock, Will still managed, somehow, to make me fee
l safe and beautiful and happy.

             
“You know this was my plan all along – to get you alone tonight,” Will announced proudly.

             
I turned my head toward him.

             
“This was your plan?” I questioned him, smiling. “You’re plan was that we would come as close as possible to getting arrested, that I would twist my ankle and our friends would leave us out in the middle of nowhere? That was your plan?”

             
“Well, when you put it that way, that wasn’t it exactly, but I still have you here next to me,” he said sheepishly, sending a coy wink my way.

             
I laughed.

             
“I love your laugh, Jules,” Will said, a little more seriously now.

             
“I love yours too, Spiderman,” I said back to him, still smiling.

             
“We’re going to spend the rest of our lives like this, you know?” Will informed me then.

             
I looked at the dirt and grass stains pressed deep into my tank top and shorts and then at my leg propped up on the dirty rock at my feet.

             
“Oh, God, is this all I can hope for?” I asked as sarcastically as I possibly could.

             
Will hovered over me, smiling coyly.

             
“What do they call your kind?” he asked playfully. “Is it hopeless romantic?”

             
I looked into his beautiful blue eyes and smiled wildly as he continued.

             
“I meant, I want to spend the rest of my life under the stars, surrounded by life and everything that comes with it – twisted ankles, close calls, tree frogs and all – beside you, thro
ugh it all,” he said sincerely.

             
I could tell by his voice that he wasn’t joking this time. And I was speechless. He was the songwriter for a reason. I’m just his speechless muse.

             
“Will Stephens, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else with anyone else but you tonight. And when you put a ring on this finger, I will consider myself the luckiest girl in the whole, wide world,” I said happily.

             
Will paused then, and his eyes found mine.

             
“Are you feeling lucky tonight?” he asked me, exposing his bright, wide smile.

             
“What?” I asked, giggling and a little thrown off-guard.

             
I watched him spin around and start gathering things from the ground behind me.

             
“Will, what on earth are you doing?” I questioned him, unable to see for myself.

             
“One second, My Love,” he reassured me.

             
He continued to fidget with something beyond my view.