Page 73 of Strelitzias in Spring

“Serena, it’s fine. You pay next time.”

Sighing, I drop my arm. “Thanks, Meg. I appreciate it.” We both slip on our coats and rise from the booth. I don’t look over my shoulder toward the table on the opposite side of the restaurant, but I can feel the prickles of their attention like jabs from barbed wire.

—

After hugging Meg goodbye, I hurry into Beans & Things to grab a drink before Dr. Forester’s class. It’s been a challenge keeping up with her reading and assignments, but I’ve found that I genuinely enjoy learning about linguistics, especially how she teaches it. The line isn’t long, but I find myself scrolling through the texts on my phone as I wait to reach the barista. Clicking on the unread messages from my mom, I read through her texts.

Mom(11:36 AM): HiMuñeca, just reminding you that I need some help on Sunday if you’re still available.

Mom(11:42 AM): You must be in class. Call me this afternoon; I’m off today to finish packing, so I’m able to answer your call.

Reminders of the move make my heart plummet, but I click on my mother’s contact information and dial her number. Unsurprisingly, she picks up on the second ring.

My mom’s voice greets me instantly. “Muñeca, how are you? How are your classes?”

“Hi, Mom. I’m doing well. Classes are fine; I just got done having lunch with Meg.”

My mom hums her approval. She’s never made any secret that she was worried about me starting college so early, but my father was the driving force behind me not only starting college at sixteen but also moving out and living on my own at such a young age. To say my mother is relieved that I’ve finally found friends and formed strong bonds would be an understatement. “That’s wonderful, honey. How is she doing? How are Celeste and Ava?”

“Everyone is well. But yes, I’ll be there on Sunday. Do you need any boxes or anything?”

“No, I have it all. I just need you to go through your things. I’ll be up early, so come whenever you’d like. I can’t wait to see you.”

I smile into the phone. “Me too.” Movement in front of me catches my attention, and I see that I’m next in line. “I’m at the coffee shop, and I’m about to order. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Don’t drink too much coffee,hija. I love you. Call me tomorrow.”

“I know; I’m getting tea. Love you, too.” Hanging up, I walk to the counter and place an order for a mint tea. The barista swipes my student ID in exchange for a boiling cup of tea, and less than ten minutes after I entered the shop, I’m already on my way out.

I take my time walking to Forester’s class, letting myself enjoy the crisp weather outside before I’m stuffed in a classroom for almost two hours. Transferring my tea to my left hand, I fish inside my bag for my phone and pull open Wolf’s texts. We spoke a little this morning, but he had to rush to get to the gym before a full day of clients. I decide to text him, just on the off chance that he’s available.

Serena: Hey, how’s your day going?

My phone vibrates seconds after sending the message, and I laugh at the incoming call. “I thought you were busy today.”

“Busy as fuck, but I have a few minutes between clients. How are you, princess?”

“Full. I just finished eating lunch with my friend, Meg. She’s the one you scared half to death at that party.”

“Ah, the one who didn’t realize she should try to open the door instead of just pounding on it.”

Nodding my head as though he can see it, I laugh. “Yep, the same.”

“Hmm.” His hum flows over me. “You on your way to class now?”

Clearing my throat, I nod again. Anyone watching me probably thinks I’m impersonating a bobblehead. “Yes, I have class in a few minutes.”

“You still coming this weekend?” There’s a note of worry in his voice, like he thinks I might have changed my mind.

“Of course. I told you I would be there. I’m excited to see you fight.” Excited is not exactly the right word—terrified, apprehensive, and strangely aroused would all fit better.

“I’m excited to see you. Wait for me after the fight. I’ll bring you home.”

“Okay.” I stop in front of the door to the building where Forester’s class is held. “Listen, I’m about to walk inside the building for class. I’ll talk to you tonight?”

“No problem. Be good, princess.”

“I’m always good,” I comment wryly before hanging up on him. Replaying our conversation in my head, I walk through the building and into class in a daze. Sliding into my usual seat, I shift through my bag and begin placing my things on my desk to prepare for the lecture.

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