Page 7 of Stripping Little Seraphina
“I didn’t mean to intrude,” I said carefully, keeping my tone soft. “Just… walking the grounds.”
Her eyes flicked to mine, wary, then dropped to the floor. “Well. You found me. Congratulations.”
I managed a small smile, though her words stung. Careful of the sound of my voice, as to not disturb others, I spoke, “I wasn’t looking for you, but I’m glad that I ran into you.”
Her gaze sharpened. “Why?” It was then that I noticed that she naturally spoke softer as if she was always inside a library. Occupational hazard I suppose.
“Because I wanted to apologize for everything up to this point,” I said simply. “For Emerson. For not showing up for youwhen I should have. I emailed you earlier, hoping we could talk. And—” I hesitated, then pushed through. “I know you dropped from the program. But if you’re willing, I’ll talk to Ezra. He’ll ignore the email if you want to give this another try. I’ll be present this time. I promise.”
Her lips parted slightly, surprise flickering across her face. She studied me like she wasn’t sure if she should believe me. Finally, she said, “If you want to talk… then we’ll do it over ice cream.”
I blinked, then chuckled softly. “Ice cream it is. Lead the way.”
“I was going to leave, you know?” Seraphina said as she stood.
“What made you change your mind?” I asked, watching her smooth her hands over her thighs.
“I came here because I wanted something different. I’m not going to let somebody else's actions make me run away from self-discovery. Besides, I really wanted you to get off your high horse and make this right.”
I nodded, understanding how much this class meant to her. This wasn’t something she was taking lightly. This was much deeper than that and now I was curious about what was underneath the exterior.
We ended up outside on a shaded bench with two bowls of ice cream from the Italian restaurant. I’d heard that Chef Guilia made it herself and was incredibly talented. I let Seraphina choose the flavors—she picked rainbow sherbet for herself and chocolate for me. It felt oddly personal, sitting side by side with our spoons, the tension easing in the warm air.
“So,” she said, carefully avoiding my gaze, “if we’re talking terms, I want boundaries. Clear ones. If you disappear again, I’m done. No second chances.”
“Fair,” I said immediately. “And I’ll hold myself to that. You deserve consistency.”
She nodded, seeming satisfied. For a moment, I watched her spoon bright swirls of sherbet into her mouth, she bounced in her seat, completely content seemingly without a care in the world.
“You’re such a Little.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Her spoon froze mid-air. Her eyes snapped to mine, wide, her cheeks flushing with something that looked a lot like shame.
“What did you just call me?” Her voice was sharp, defensive.
I frowned, confused. “A Little. It wasn’t an insult—it’s a compliment, actually. You have such a natural way of?—”
“Stop.” She dropped her spoon into the bowl with a clatter, her voice trembling now. “You don’t get to call me that. You don’t know me.”
My chest tightened. I hadn’t expected that reaction at all. “Sera, I wasn’t trying to?—”
But she was already pushing her bowl away, her posture stiffening. “If this is how it’s going to be, maybe I made the right choice dropping out.”
And just like that, she stood, leaving me sitting there with melting chocolate and a hollow ache in my chest.
That was when the realization hit me. She wasn’t rejecting the term—she didn’t even understand it. She didn’t know what it meant to embrace that part of herself.
And I’d just made the mistake of shoving her toward a truth she wasn’t ready to face.
Chapter Three
Seraphina
My eyes felt swollen, my head heavy. Crying myself to sleep wasn’t a new trick, but Mistress V's words had cut deep and I needed an escape. Not to mention her calling me a Little earlier. The rejection, the embarrassment, the confirmation of every fear I carried—it all sat like a stone in my chest.
I shuffled into the kitchenette, clutching my stuffy in one hand like it could shield me from the world. A mug of chai tea warmed my palms when I curled back onto the couch, fleece blanket pulled to my chin. The t-shirt, shorts, and striped socks I’d slept in felt like armor. They were fleece and felt soft against my skin.
A knock jolted me upright.
