He seemed to actually look at me then, and his gaze gave me sweaty butterflies. I’ve determined they’re a thing, since I don’t get simple, fluttery, girly butterflies like most straight women do when a ridiculously handsome guy notices them. My butterflies flap around so hard they make me feel slightly nauseated, which inevitably leads to a mild case of the sweats. Ergo, sweaty butterflies.
