Page 2 of Roses in Summer

“Oh, wow.” I swallow, unequivocally impressed. “Can you say something in Polish?”

“What am I, a show pony?” he teases.

“No, I didn’t mean—I’m sorry—”

“Calm down, Seraphina, I’m fucking with you.” Positioning himself against Celeste’s bed, he looks at the wall for long seconds before turning his gaze back to me. “Jestesnajpiekniejszarzecza,jakakiedykolwiek,kurwa,widzialeminiewiem, co ztobazrobic.

I swallow thickly, his gaze so heavy upon my face that it’s like I can feel it against my skin. “What did you say?”

“Just that that sweatshirt is too big on you.”

I narrow my eyes, somehow knowing he’s lying but also unwilling to push him. “If you say so.”

“I do. Anyway, I don’t think your Banana Hammock game is a good idea. I’ll sweep the floor with you.”

“Hey! That’s—”

“Take the joke, Sera. Tell me about yourself.”

“There’s not much to tell that you probably don’t already know. My sister can’t keep her mouth shut when she starts talking, and she talks a lot,” I muse, thinking about my beautifully clumsy sister and her penchant for oversharing. I point at my chest, raising a brow at Lincoln. “Seraphina Rose Gregori, eighteen-year-old high school student. I like libraries, gardening, and reading.”

“You sure you’re not eighty-five? No, let’s play a game, twenty questions.”

“I doubt you’ll find twenty interesting things about me.”

He looks to the ceiling, annoyance stamped across his handsome features until they smooth out. “Where are you going to college?”

“Oh, we’re starting? Okay. I’ll be in Pennsylvania next year, at Penn University.” I eye him suspiciously. “My sister hasn’t already told you that?”

He shrugs, feigning innocence. “Perhaps. Why are you going out there? Didn’t you get an offer from Marymount?”

Looking away, I swallow the thickness in my throat. Marymount was always my dream, but once Ava enrolled, and Bianca, our youngest sibling, set her sights on the university, I decided I needed to leave New Jersey. “I was offered a full ride at Penn. Marymount accepted me, too, but offered a partial scholarship. My parents would have been fine either way, but I felt the easy choice was the full scholarship. Anyway, is it my turn now?” I wait for him to nod. “Why do you want to be a chef?”

His smile turns wistful like he’s recalling a memory that gives him immense happiness. “I’ve always loved being in the kitchen. Growing up, I traveled a lot, either with my parents for their jobs or when they would bring me for modeling gigs. I hated being in front of the camera, even if I got paid a fuck-ton of money to smile pretty and keep my mouth shut. My parents bought a house in North Jersey when I was in high school, giving me some more permanence. The one thing I looked forward to while we were traveling was the food and different cultures you could explore through food: street food in Mexico, homemade pasta in Italy, rich stews in Poland. Every time we would get back home after one of our trips, I would try to recreate what we ate.

“I realized I wasn’t shit in the kitchen. In high school, there was a vocational program to train in culinary arts and hospitality, and I fucking loved it. I didn’t want to come to college—almost didn’t, too, because I took a year off to work in the kitchens at a spot by my parents’ house, but my parents forced the issue. They supported my goal of becoming a chef but were adamant that I would receive a college degree. Marymount is one of the only universities that has decent culinary and hospitality programs, so it made sense to come here, especially after I found out Dante and Grey were coming too.”

“You knew them before school?”

“Tsk tsk, one at a time, Sera.”

“That’s a dumb rule,” I mumble.

“You’re fucking thorny,” he starts, laughing at his joke. “A thorny little rose. What are you majoring in?”

We go back and forth, trading basic, innocuous information you could find on our social media profiles. I sink into Ava’s headboard, getting comfortable with the easy dialogue, when Lincoln startles me with his next question.

“Tell me about your boyfriend.”

I cut him a sharp glance. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“You sure? Because Ava talks about some asshole named Mitch.”

I swallow against the lump in my throat at the mention of Mitch. “We broke up two weeks ago. For good.” I emphasize the last part. “We started dating when we were sophomores, and I was flattered by his attention. Mitch is…” I look up, struggling for the words to describe him. “He’s bigger than life, a loud, charismatic personality with golden-boy good looks. He’s also a dick and has no problem using his family’s wealth and status to get ahead. He wanted things that didn’t make sense, not just because they were old-fashioned ideas of women, but because they chafed against every fiber of my being.” I let out a dark chuckle. “If he had his way, we’d probably be engaged after high school, married right out of college.”

“Why’d you break up this time?”

“Excuse me? I thought it was one question at a time.”

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