Page 15 of Roses in Summer

“Want to make a bet?”

I level him with a look, keeping my fingers in place as I talk. “No, asshole. I don’t want to make a bet on Sera.”

“Hmmph.” He throws a napkin down, leans forward to set his elbows on the table, and steeples his fingers. He looks like some mafia don from an old-school Coppola movie. “So now, when it’s the girl you’re obsessed with, it’s not cool to make a bet about her. But when it’s Red or Aves, you have no fucking problem running your mouth and betting on shit.”

Dropping my hands, I let my head fall back against the seat. “Sorry,” I offer lamely, knowing that when I want something, my wagers can get out of control.

“Yeah, you’re sorry now. But you weren’t sorry then. All you wanted was a job at Franki’s place. You got it. Congratulations, you fuck. But don’t do it again, or else I’ll have to knock your fucking teeth in.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Whatever. Let’s go before I get too tempted to beat your ass.”

—

Unlike the ride to the restaurant or the entire time we were there, the ride home is silent. I’m thankful for the reprieve from Dante’s sick humor; there’s only so much I can take before I need to detox in solitude.

Pulling into the driveway, I shift to park and grab my phone from my console. I’m surprised to see a notification from Sera on my screen. I have no idea what face I’m making, but Dante’s laugh gives me some idea.

“Oh, you are so fucked, brother. Welcome to the team.”

I wave his laughing ass off as he exits the car and walks inside. I’m tempted to unlock my phone now and read the message, but I hold off. Deciding that I need to make sure I don’t have an audience for this conversation, I get out of my car and race into the house.

Once I’m behind my bedroom door, I unlock my phone and read her text.

Seraphina: Sorry, it’s been a busy day.

Scowling at the message, I reread it in hopes that more words will appear or another text will come through. But I get fucking nothing.

Lincoln: Ciern, what’s going on?

Her response is instant.

Seraphina: Nothing.

Lincoln: Can you talk?

Three dots appear on the screen, then disappear before popping back up. She must be typing out her response before deleting it, unsure how to respond. I’m about to text her back and ask her what’s going on with her, her ex, and the things she’s been hiding. But I don’t have to because my phone vibrates with an incoming call.

“Ceirn, what’s going on?”

“Yes, hello, how are you?” she mocks, and though I can’t see her, I don’t doubt that she’s rolling her eyes at me right now.

“Seraphina—” I start, but she cuts me off.

“Lincoln, I’m at school right now. Remember? I’m still in high school and cannot just leave class to make a phone call. I’m in the bathroom right now, so please, make this quick.” She whispers so low that I have to strain to hear her words.

In comparison, my voice sounds unnecessarily loud, and I try to drop my volume. “Sera, you’re upset right now. Tell me what’s going on.”

The sigh she lets out is haunted, like she’s carrying the weight of unspoken words and trying not to buckle under the force. “It’s not you I’m mad at, Lincoln. It’s me, or I guess situations that we can’t change.” She pauses, swallowing, and I feel my heart beat faster in my chest at the tone of her voice. “You were out last night with your friends and those girls, and I was tucked in bed, studying for a world history exam for my high school social studies class. I’ve got so many other things happening, things I don’t think I can talk to you about. And I’m tired. I am just so damn tired.”

“Sera, what are you talking about? Yesterday we spoke out going out, about trying this. where the hell is this coming from?” I rush to ask.

She’s silent at that profession.

“Seraphina, ciern, I—”

“No,” she cuts me off. “I can’t do this. I…” She pauses, her voice breaking. “I was with Mitch yesterday. We—he—it’s complicated.”

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