Page 5 of Roses in Summer

Lincoln

Lincoln: How’s school, ciern?

I watch my text go through as I lie on my bed, resisting the urge to shake my head as I anticipate Seraphina Rose Gregori’s response. If someone had told me two months ago that I’d be stalking my phone, waiting for the pretty high school senior to respond, I’d have said they’re fucking high.

If I had made a bet on it, I would have lost.

My phone pings with an incoming message, and my eyes eat up the words the little thorn sent me, smiling to myself at the attached picture.

Seraphina: I’m in independent study. Are you in class?

Using my thumb and forefinger to adjust the size of the picture, I zoom in on Seraphina’s face, taking in the large brown eyes, long hair resting over one shoulder, and the secret smile that seems to light up her features. Just like I was six weeks ago, I’m stunned by how fucking beautiful she is. It’s not in a loud way, a way that bangs you over the head and forces you to stare. It’s subtle, a second glance, a lingering stare. On anyone else, her nose may look just a little too big, her mouth just a little too wide. But on Seraphina Rose Gregori? Her imperfect features are perfect, balanced in a way plastic surgeons could only hope to achieve.

When I first saw her, I remember both scoffing and salivating over her appearance. She looks like her older sister, Ava—the resemblance is undeniable with their chestnut hair and olive complexion. Yet, where Ava is curves and clumsiness, her sister looks like a pixie. I followed the line of her petite body, taking in the short, slender legs, narrow torso, and collarbones that looked too pronounced in that dress. She dressed modestly compared to the rest of the women, almost like a future politician’s wife. But something about the short, loose dress paired with those dainty little heels made me want to dirty her up.

The moment she opened her mouth, with that sweet voice and full lips forming words I could barely comprehend, I knew I was fucked. But not literally, since Ava would have had my balls and figured out a way to sous vide them. I hung on to her every word that night, and when I drove her home in my prized possession, Betty, my cherry-red 1969 Chevy Camaro ZL-1 that I saved for from years of bullshit modeling gigs, I had to hold myself back from taking a mental image.

She looked good in my car, and part of me knew she’d look good in my life if I somehow got her in it.

“Fucking sap,” I mumble, looking back at my phone as I type out a text.

Lincoln: No, I have work today. Franki’s making me go in this morning to organize the platters and flatware, and then I’m on until close.

Seraphina’s reply is instant, confirming that she’s as invested in this conversation as I am and monitoring her phone.

Seraphina: Number one dishwasher ;)

I roll my eyes at her teasing, especially since I know she’s doing it to fuck with me. I had just gotten the job at Garganello’s,my roommate Dante’s sister’s restaurant, when Sera and I met. I knew I’d be in the back of the back, washing dishes and stacking plates to pay my dues in an industry that often values experience over education. I didn’t care that I’d likely come home each night smelling like a potent mixture of garlic and soap. No, I just wanted to be in the restaurant, earning my way until I could secure a spot on the brigade.

Picking my head up, I note the time and realize I need to get moving if I’m going to make the drive into the city and make my shift. West Elm isn’t far from New York, but the traffic can be a nightmare if I don’t plan the drive accordingly. I’d rather show up forty minutes early and wait like an asshole in the employee break room than show up ten minutes late because I didn’t plan my schedule.

Lincoln: Give me a minute to get my shit together. Can you talk?

Seraphina is one of those stereotypical good girls. She’s the type to have a curfew and follow it, eat all her vegetables before dessert, and otherwise adhere to whatever rules she, or someone else, places on her. It didn’t surprise me when I heard about her asshole ex doing everything he could to keep her under his thumb, especially since she’s a take-home girl. A girl you scoop up and try your fucking hardest to keep, the one you take home to your mom and say, “Look, I found her.”

But the one thing about the little thorn is she gets a thrill from breaking rules, the same way I get off on a bet. Three weeks ago, we FaceTimed during her independent study, an action she told me was specifically prohibited while wearing the brightest fucking grin on her face. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she loved the little act of rebellion, one so innocuous it barely measured against some of the shit I’ve done.

Getting up from the bed, I walk to my closet and grab my duffle bag, already filled with the things I’ll need for tonight. Garganello’shas an employee locker room, hosting locked cubbies and two individual full bathrooms to allow the staff to change in and out of their work clothes without walking down busy Manhattan streets looking like they’re about to dice an onion. I’m grateful for the setup since every time Dante and Grey, my other roommate, see me in my apron coat and black utility pants, they call me Cheffy and make me want to knock their teeth in.

With my bag over my shoulder, I grab my phone, keys, and wallet and jog downstairs and out to my car. Throwing my duffle in the back, I slide into my car, the one I worked my ass off for by modeling. Plugging my phone into the dock, I start my engine and back up, wasting no time pulling out onto the road and starting my forty-minute journey into the city.

My phone goes off as I drive, and because of the old-school tech in the car, I don’t have a computerized dashboard to tell me who it is. I can guess it’s Seraphina since we’ve been talking for the last ten minutes, but I also won’t risk my life to check. Pulling up to a stop sign, I come to a complete halt and reach for my phone, smiling to myself when I see Seraphina confirm she’s available. I press on her contact information and set it to speaker.

“I meant I was free in ten minutes.” Seraphina’s whispered voice comes from my phone’s speaker, and I have to turn the volume up to hear her. “I’m in the library.”

“Such a rulebreaker, ciern. Hopefully, you don’t get caught.”

“Oh, shut up, Lincoln,” she admonishes, though her voice holds a laugh. “Give me a minute to get to someplace private.” I hear rustling on the other end of the phone and the sound of a door opening and closing before she lets out a deep breath. “Okay, that’s better.”

Her voice is at full volume now, but it’s still breathy like she ran a marathon or snuck out of her little library sanctuary. “Did you just sneak out of school, Seraphina? I’m impressed.”

“Maybe. I think you’re a bad influence.”

I snort at her words. “I’m the best influence you have. How’s school?”

She’s quiet for a beat, and I focus on my drive, willing myself not to strain my ears to hear her breath on the other end of the line. After another moment, she responds, “Interesting. I found myself in a janitor’s closet today.”

“Do I even want to know?”

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