Page 81 of Strelitzias in Spring

“You don’t want to come up? I’ll be a few minutes; I need to shower.”

“Absolutely fucking not. If I go into that apartment, I’m either fucking you or rearranging your pantry. Probably both. We don’t have time for that, so go.”

“I—uh. Okay.” Hopping down from the truck, I race across the pavement, relieved that it’s early on a Sunday and not many people are out. Rushing up the stairs and into my apartment, I give myself a body shower and don’t bother washing my hair. After putting on a light coat of makeup, I survey my appearance. Normally, I love how short my hair is, but on days when it needs a wash, not being able to pull it up into a ponytail is annoying. Unfortunately, today, it needs a wash.

Power walking to my room, I throw on leggings, a tank top, and an oversized sweatshirt before grabbing a baseball cap and pushing it over my head. Grabbing my purse that I discarded on the entry table, I look at my phone and pride myself on taking less than twenty minutes to get ready. I may have created a small flood in the bathroom and a tornado in my bedroom, but I’ll just clean that when I get back this afternoon.

Throwing my front door open, I race out of the apartment building and into Wolf’s waiting truck. I’m ashamed to admit that I’m winded from my rush out the door.

“Okay,” I pant. “My mom lives fifteen minutes away. Give me the phone, and I’ll plug in the address.”

“Calm down, Serena. You sound like you’re out of breath.”

“Shut up, Wolf. Give me the phone.” I hold out my hand, waiting for him to deposit it in my palm. He shakes his head at me but hands over the phone. In no time, I have my mom’s address programmed into the phone, and we’re on the road.

I don’t let myself dwell on introducing Wolf and my mom, nor do I think about how Wolf will react to some of the very juvenile things in my room, like my old One Direction poster. Instead, I watch the trees pass by and try to silence all thoughts.

Wolf’s throat clears, eviscerating my hopes of a thought-free ride. Though his eyes are on the road, I can feel him watching me through his peripheral.

“What?”

“We’re exclusive.”

I squint at him, unsure of what he’s saying. “What?” I ask again.

“There are no other men. There are no other women. Boyfriend, girlfriend, whatever fucking name you want to call it, we’re exclusive.”

He’s not so much asking me as he is telling me. “I didn’t think there were other people, but okay. Thanks for clarifying.”

“Good.”

“Good,” I repeat. I turn my head back toward the window, thinking about the bizarre way he just confirmed the status of our relationship. A hand trails over my wrist, pulling one of my hands off my lap and resting it inside his atop the center console. I turn my head and stare forward at the road. From the corner of my eye, I can see a smirk flit across Wolf’s mouth, and I can’t help the one that breaks across my face.

35

Wolf

Despite all my prior thoughts, Serena’s hand feels right nestled in mine, like it’s exactly where it’s supposed to be. It may sound cliché or like a stupid line from a movie from the eighties, but there’s a sense of rightness that envelops me at the pressure of her palm. I’m trying to contain the smile that’s attempting to break out across my face, but it’s hard.

I was up until the early morning hours watching her as she lay across my chest like a starfish. It felt good having her there, on top of me and in my bed, and I knew that this morning, I’d confirm with her what we are to each other. I squeeze her hand, relishing how her fingers feel in mine.

I’m saved from having to think about it too much as the GPS signals that we’ve arrived at her mother’s place. It’s a modest white ranch-style house with lots of flower beds and trees in the front that look like they’ve been planted with care and consideration. I turn to Serena, about to ask her if this is the right place, when I realize that her face has gone unusually pale, and her mouth hangs open.

“Serena, what’s wrong? Is everything okay?” I unclick my seatbelt and release her hand, cupping her jaw to bring her eyes to mine. “Hey, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“What the hell is he doing here?”

“What?” I follow her gaze and stare at the Porsche Macan in the driveway next to a Honda Civic; it seems out of place in the neighborhood. Looking back at Serena, I ask a question I already know the answer to. “Whose car is that?”

“My father’s.”

“Is there any reason why he would be here?”

That seems to snap her out of her stupor. She glances at me and shakes her head. “No. I don’t think so. Wolf…” Her voice trembles. “We need to go inside. What if he’s hurting her?”

“Serena, we need to call—Goddammit,” I sigh. Serena doesn’t wait for me to finish my sentence and throws open the door, bolting toward the house with surprising speed.

I fling open my door, slamming it behind me, and race after her, stopping her just before she opens the front door. “Serena, you need to wait. Let me go in first. If your mom is in trouble, or if he has a fucking weapon, I’m not letting you walk into the line of fire.”

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