Page 14 of Roses in Summer

Lincoln

I tried calling Seraphina twice last night after I dismantled the group of girls desperate for my attention. I didn’t want to hang up on her to deal with them, but I could see the self-doubt and misery on her face as she watched the three girls circle like vultures waiting to strike.

I’m pissed about her ex approaching her, but I’m not going to take my frustration about it out on her. I want to talk to her, see if she’ll confide in me, and help her work through whatever shit she found herself in.

Running a hand down my face, I type out a message to Sera.

Lincoln: Good morning, ciern. Text me after your class.

I watch as the message is marked as delivered. Sera is a good girl; she doesn’t text during class, spend hours toiling away on social media, or otherwise draw attention to herself. She’s a rule follower and conscientious of everything around her. She’s quiet but funny, sweet but witty and direct. She’s a package of contradictions, and I wouldn’t bet against my interest forming into a full-fledged obsession.

Looking back at my phone, I’m surprised to see that the text is marked as read, but Sera hasn’t responded.

Sucking in a breath, I decide I don’t give a shit if I come across as desperate when my fingers start flying across my phone.

Lincoln: Give me a call as soon as you can.

Just like the first text, I watch as the message goes through and transforms from “delivered” to “read,” still with no response from Seraphina.

“Cholera jasna,” I yell into the room, throwing my phone on the bed. No one’s home, and I don’t need to worry about anyone overhearing my tirade as I unleash curse after curse. I alternate between English, Polish, and even some fucking German, piecing together the right words to relay how I’m feeling.

“Fucking goddamn,” I mutter one last time before opening my bedroom door. I’m surprised to find Dante on the other side of the door, his hand poised to knock. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in class or following Celeste like a stalker?”

“Oh, fuck off, you dick.” He holds up his hands, showing off his middle fingers as he speaks. “I came to see if you wanted to grab some breakfast, but if you’re being a cunt, I don’t want to be around you.”

I deflate at his words. “I’m not being a cunt, you prick. Fine, JJ’s?”

“Dude, where the fuck else would we go? It’s there or that shitty diner off Main Street that always has the same number of apple turnovers in their display case. I don’t think they’ve sold or remade one since they opened in the fifties.”

Rolling my eyes at him, I brush past him and jog down the stairs. “They’re fake. A sign bolted on the case says, ‘replicas of our pastry.’ They had it made so they could keep the desserts in the back in a temperature-controlled case since the one in the front broke, and they didn’t want to fix it.”

I’m met with silence. Looking over my shoulder, I see Dante’s dumbfounded look, like he can’t believe he never knew that.

“How the fuck did you know that?”

“Context clues, you lazy fuck. Plus, I know how to read and ask questions.”

“Well, shit. I thought they had some magical flour that kept things from getting mold.”

Running a hand over my face, I shake my head but don’t respond. Dante’s lucky he’s good with money and numbers because sometimes, he sounds like a moron.

“You want to drive, or should I?” he calls from behind. I hold up my keys, showing that I already have them in my hand and that I’m prepared to drive.

—

“And then, she ran in the opposite direction after calling me an ‘asshole.’” He laughs like getting called names by his pretty redheaded obsession is a universally good time. “She’s got so much fucking fire in her, you know? It’s hot.”

Dante has talked about Celeste the entire hour and a half that we’ve been together. If I wasn’t so wrapped up in my own world with the mysteries surrounding Sera, I would tell him to shut up. As it stands, I’m happy he’s distracted and not looking too closely as I check my phone for a call or a text every ten minutes.

Nothing has come through.

“You keep looking at your phone, man. What’s up?”

Glancing up from my screen, I scowl at his face. “Nothing. Waiting for a text.”

He scoffs like my answer is bullshit. “Is ‘text’ code word for you’re waiting for Ava’s sister to text you back?”

I mimic his movements from earlier and hold up my middle fingers, flipping him off.

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