Page 25 of Roses in Summer

Roses in Summer

10

Seraphina

“Goddammit, Bianca. I told you that if you left your shoes by the door one more fucking time, I would throw them in the goddamn garbage.”

“No, no, no. Olivia, if you touch my shit, I’ll dye your hair green in your sleep.”

Rubbing my temples at my sister and best friend’s antics, I look up from the syllabus I’m reviewing to glare at them. “Will you two please stop yelling? You’re giving my migraine a migraine, and if I have to deal with Ava later, I’m not sure how I’m supposed to survive without wanting to crawl under the couch and die.”

I’m met with blissful silence, at least for a moment, before Bianca and Liv turn their attention to me.

“Was she always this dramatic?”

Liv snorts. “You grew up with her, not me.”

“Fair point,” my sister responds.

I shake my head, releasing a sigh. “Why did I think living with both of you would be a good idea?” My words are quiet, just a whisper of breath, but somehow, B and Liv hear them as they enter the small kitchen of our shared apartment.

“Because you love us.” B shrugs, throwing her body into the wooden chair beside me. “Why are you studying your syllabus? You know the professor goes over that on the first day of class, right? You don’t get extra points for knowing the academic code of conduct, Ser.”

Bianca extends her hand, trying to pry the paper from my grip. I let my elbow slip, grazing her in her ribs. “Ow! Seraphina Rose!”

“Leave me alone, Bianca.”

Rising from the table, Bianca leaves the chair pushed out and walks away, mumbling under her breath as she exits the kitchen, leaving just Liv and me. I look up at my best friend and give her a hard stare.

She’s always been stunning; with her long legs, short dark hair, and beautiful almond eyes, she looks like a mix of Betty Boop and a Disney princess. Taking her in, I see she has her running shoes on her feet and her headphones in her hand.

“Going somewhere?”

“Yes, on a run.”

I choke back a laugh. “Run? Liv, you hate running.”

Pulling her hair back into a messy, wild bun, she avoids my gaze. “It’s a new hobby.”

“You wouldn’t be leaving the apartment because a certain twin of mine is coming over, would you?” I met Liv in my dorm building while I was at Pennsylvania University, and she’s the only reason why my freshman year was remotely bearable. After the horror story that was my senior year of high school, I left for college, resigned to the fact any semblance of joy or excitement evaporated. After enough begging, she became my roommate and eventually followed me back to New Jersey, even though she hated the state. Her biology degree is untouched as she figures out her next move and works at Legend’s Sports Bar.

But my friendship with Olivia Bowman goes deeper than a common dorm building and a shared apartment—like recognizes like. Liv has never told me about her trauma, but I know it’s there, the same way she knows that I’ve been through pain too.

At my question about Rafe, Liv has the nerve to look offended, as though the idea of avoiding my brother is preposterous, though we both know she’s definitely avoiding him. Ava and Rafe are coming over tonight, something about Ava wanting to have a family game night and choosing our apartment as the destination.

When we were at Penn U, my brother couldn’t visit or do more than a biweekly FaceTime call, so Liv never met him in person. But now that we’re all in the same state, it’s hard not to notice how every time Rafe’s name gets brought up, my tough friend either blushes, leaves the room, or feigns ignorance of his existence.

It’d be funny if it weren’t so weird.

“Okay, well. Is your location on?” I look at her, waiting for a nod of affirmation. She doesn’t roll her eyes, knowing that my question comes from a place of concern. “Have a good run then, I guess?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She nods, waving dismissively as she power walks out of the apartment.

Looking down at my syllabus, my eyes focus on the university name, and I bite my lip at the thoughts assaulting me. The first time I visited Marymount to see Ava, my life changed, though I’m unsure if it was for the better. I try to block out the memories, the bright-green eyes and intricate tattoos, the excitement and disappointment, the need I felt once and then never again.

“Damn you, Lincoln,” I whisper, barely audible but loud enough to cause a shiver down my body. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought of Lincoln over the years. I haven’t seen or spoken to him in four years, but he’s like a ghost that haunts me, the omnipresent barometer against which I measure every date and every boyfriend.

It’s no surprise that everyone has fallen short, that every relationship has combusted before it really had a chance to start. I could blame Mitch and the trauma he induced through his lies and manipulation, but it’s not that. At least not entirely. No, it’s that I know what a perfect partner could be, even if he was never mine.

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