Page 19 of Roses in Summer

“Mitchell, slow down, you fucking maniac. You’re going eighty in a forty, and if you kill me, I will haunt you every day in hell,” Bianca yells, giving voice to the thoughts in my head. I knew we were in trouble when Mitch ushered us out of Greyson’s house, claiming it was time to go. I’m not sure if it was the look in his eyes or the anger radiating off his skin, but something in my gut told me that getting in the car with him was a bad idea.

My sister seemed to have missed that intuitive memo because she slid into the back seat of his luxury sedan and immediately started playing on her phone. Part of me wanted to drag her out and tell Mitch we were staying with Ava for the weekend, but I knew Bianca wouldn’t be easy to wrangle.

So, against my better judgment, I buckled myself into his front seat and prayed that my intuition was wrong.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

Taking his eyes off the road, Mitch looks over at me, his face set in a cocky smirk. “Tell your sister to calm down, Fin.”

Shaking my head at him, I meet his detachment with a scowl. “I will not tell her to calm down. Slow the hell down. Now!” I shout, reaching for the grab handle as I watch the speedometer rise another ten miles per hour. “Mitch, I’m serious. Slow down.”

“This isn’t funny. Slow down, you cocky fuck,” B yells from behind. My brother was supposed to be in the car with us, but he left Greyson’s early, citing a headache as a reason to Uber out of the party. If I had to guess, Rafe was overwhelmed by the number of people at the backyard barbecue, and his social anxiety caused him to need a time-out.

Licking my lips, I glance out of the car, noting how quickly we’re moving, and try for a different tactic. Clearing my throat, I shift in my seat and use my free hand to slide over the center console, reaching for Mitch’s thigh as I move. “Mitch, why don’t you slow down,” I whisper, making sure my voice conveys none of the discomfort I’m feeling. Casting my eyes to the back, Bianca’s eyes widen as she takes in my words and actions.

“What are you doing?” she mouths, looking from my face to my arm. Tilting my head, I silently beg her to keep quiet.

“Did you speak to that asshole?”

Turning back to Mitch, I furrow my brow and shake my head at his question. “What are you talking about?”

His eyes are set on the road, his mouth still pulled into that unnerving smile. “The guy from inside the house. I saw you with him. What the fuck did he want?”

Swallowing down the bile rising in my throat, I measure my words, holding their weight in my chest before letting them out. “He’s my sister’s boyfriend’s roommate. I barely know him.” His hand captures mine, pressing my fingers further into his thigh. I’m equally confused and annoyed by his line of questioning and the physical touch he’s forcing. Despite our agreement, he pushed his limits today.

“Don’t lie to me, Seraphina. I fucking saw you.”

“You didn’t see anything, shithead,” Bianca yells from the back seat.

Gritting my teeth, I hold up my free hand, silencing her without words. “He’s someone I met through Ava. He’s no one,” I lie, hoping I’m convincing. Holding my breath, I keep my eyes pinned to the driver’s side dashboard. I watch as the speedometer peels back, going from ninety to eighty to seventy until it’s finally at the speed limit. I start to remove my hand from Mitch’s thigh, but he squeezes, giving me a look that has my insides churning.

“Keep it there, Fin. You know I love your hands on me.”

His words have my stomach lurching, and I swallow down the wave of nausea at his suggestive tone. He continues to drive, bypassing our exit on the parkway and taking one four mile markers from our designated exit.

Panic grips me again, and I don’t need to look back at my sister to know she’s also freaking out.

I give him a faint smile and ask, “Where are we going? This isn’t the way home.”

“We’re going to Chris’s beach house.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“You’re cute when you try to think, Fin. We’re going.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Bianca murmurs. From the corner of my eye, I watch as she lifts her left hand and starts to bite at her nails, a nervous habit carried over from when we were kids.

Slipping out of his hold, I ignore Mitch’s side-eye as I bring my hands together and reach into my shoulder bag to pull out my phone.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice a lashing in the car.

“Just letting my parents know where we are.” A grunt is the only response I get.

I shift in the passenger seat, putting my back against the door and angling my phone so that Mitch can’t see my screen in his peripheral.

Pulling up my brother’s contact information, I type out a frantic text.

Seraphina: B and I need you. Pick us up at Chris’s beach house.

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