6. Lincoln
6
Lincoln
I tried calling Seraphina twice last night after I dismantled the group of girls desperate for my attention. I didn’t want to hang up on her to deal with them, but I could see the self-doubt and misery on her face as she watched the three girls circle like vultures waiting to strike.
I’m pissed about her ex approaching her, but I’m not going to take my frustration about it out on her. I want to talk to her, see if she’ll confide in me, and help her work through whatever shit she found herself in.
Running a hand down my face, I type out a message to Sera.
Lincoln : Good morning, cierń. Text me after your class.
I watch as the message is marked as delivered. Sera is a good girl; she doesn’t text during class, spend hours toiling away on social media, or otherwise draw attention to herself. She’s a rule follower and conscientious of everything around her. She’s quiet but funny, sweet but witty and direct. She’s a package of contradictions, and I wouldn’t bet against my interest forming into a full-fledged obsession.
Looking back at my phone, I’m surprised to see that the text is marked as read, but Sera hasn’t responded.
Sucking in a breath, I decide I don’t give a shit if I come across as desperate when my fingers start flying across my phone.
Lincoln : Give me a call as soon as you can.
Just like the first text, I watch as the message goes through and transforms from “delivered” to “read,” still with no response from Seraphina.
“ Cholera jasna ,” I yell into the room, throwing my phone on the bed. No one’s home, and I don’t need to worry about anyone overhearing my tirade as I unleash curse after curse. I alternate between English, Polish, and even some fucking German, piecing together the right words to relay how I’m feeling.
“Fucking goddamn,” I mutter one last time before opening my bedroom door. I’m surprised to find Dante on the other side of the door, his hand poised to knock. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in class or following Celeste like a stalker?”
“Oh, fuck off, you dick.” He holds up his hands, showing off his middle fingers as he speaks. “I came to see if you wanted to grab some breakfast, but if you’re being a cunt, I don’t want to be around you.”
I deflate at his words. “I’m not being a cunt, you prick. Fine, JJ’s?”
“Dude, where the fuck else would we go? It’s there or that shitty diner off Main Street that always has the same number of apple turnovers in their display case. I don’t think they’ve sold or remade one since they opened in the fifties.”
Rolling my eyes at him, I brush past him and jog down the stairs. “They’re fake. A sign bolted on the case says, ‘replicas of our pastry.’ They had it made so they could keep the desserts in the back in a temperature-controlled case since the one in the front broke, and they didn’t want to fix it.”
I’m met with silence. Looking over my shoulder, I see Dante’s dumbfounded look, like he can’t believe he never knew that.
“How the fuck did you know that?”
“Context clues, you lazy fuck. Plus, I know how to read and ask questions.”
“Well, shit. I thought they had some magical flour that kept things from getting mold.”
Running a hand over my face, I shake my head but don’t respond. Dante’s lucky he’s good with money and numbers because sometimes, he sounds like a moron.
“You want to drive, or should I?” he calls from behind. I hold up my keys, showing that I already have them in my hand and that I’m prepared to drive.
—
“And then, she ran in the opposite direction after calling me an ‘asshole.’” He laughs like getting called names by his pretty redheaded obsession is a universally good time. “She’s got so much fucking fire in her, you know? It’s hot.”
Dante has talked about Celeste the entire hour and a half that we’ve been together. If I wasn’t so wrapped up in my own world with the mysteries surrounding Sera, I would tell him to shut up. As it stands, I’m happy he’s distracted and not looking too closely as I check my phone for a call or a text every ten minutes.
Nothing has come through.
“You keep looking at your phone, man. What’s up?”
Glancing up from my screen, I scowl at his face. “Nothing. Waiting for a text.”
He scoffs like my answer is bullshit. “Is ‘text’ code word for you’re waiting for Ava’s sister to text you back?”
I mimic his movements from earlier and hold up my middle fingers, flipping him off.
“Want to make a bet?”
I level him with a look, keeping my fingers in place as I talk. “No, asshole. I don’t want to make a bet on Sera.”
“Hmmph.” He throws a napkin down, leans forward to set his elbows on the table, and steeples his fingers. He looks like some mafia don from an old-school Coppola movie. “So now, when it’s the girl you’re obsessed with, it’s not cool to make a bet about her. But when it’s Red or Aves, you have no fucking problem running your mouth and betting on shit.”
Dropping my hands, I let my head fall back against the seat. “Sorry,” I offer lamely, knowing that when I want something, my wagers can get out of control.
“Yeah, you’re sorry now. But you weren’t sorry then. All you wanted was a job at Franki’s place. You got it. Congratulations, you fuck. But don’t do it again, or else I’ll have to knock your fucking teeth in.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
“Whatever. Let’s go before I get too tempted to beat your ass.”
—
Unlike the ride to the restaurant or the entire time we were there, the ride home is silent. I’m thankful for the reprieve from Dante’s sick humor; there’s only so much I can take before I need to detox in solitude.
Pulling into the driveway, I shift to park and grab my phone from my console. I’m surprised to see a notification from Sera on my screen. I have no idea what face I’m making, but Dante’s laugh gives me some idea.
“Oh, you are so fucked, brother. Welcome to the team.”
I wave his laughing ass off as he exits the car and walks inside. I’m tempted to unlock my phone now and read the message, but I hold off. Deciding that I need to make sure I don’t have an audience for this conversation, I get out of my car and race into the house.
Once I’m behind my bedroom door, I unlock my phone and read her text.
Seraphina : Sorry, it’s been a busy day.
Scowling at the message, I reread it in hopes that more words will appear or another text will come through. But I get fucking nothing.
Lincoln : Cierń, what’s going on?
Her response is instant.
Seraphina : Nothing.
Lincoln : Can you talk?
Three dots appear on the screen, then disappear before popping back up. She must be typing out her response before deleting it, unsure how to respond. I’m about to text her back and ask her what’s going on with her, her ex, and the things she’s been hiding. But I don’t have to because my phone vibrates with an incoming call.
“Ceirń, what’s going on?”
“Yes, hello, how are you?” she mocks, and though I can’t see her, I don’t doubt that she’s rolling her eyes at me right now.
“Seraphina—” I start, but she cuts me off.
“Lincoln, I’m at school right now. Remember? I’m still in high school and cannot just leave class to make a phone call. I’m in the bathroom right now, so please, make this quick.” She whispers so low that I have to strain to hear her words.
In comparison, my voice sounds unnecessarily loud, and I try to drop my volume. “Sera, you’re upset right now. Tell me what’s going on.”
The sigh she lets out is haunted, like she’s carrying the weight of unspoken words and trying not to buckle under the force. “It’s not you I’m mad at, Lincoln. It’s me, or I guess situations that we can’t change.” She pauses, swallowing, and I feel my heart beat faster in my chest at the tone of her voice. “You were out last night with your friends and those girls, and I was tucked in bed, studying for a world history exam for my high school social studies class. I’ve got so many other things happening, things I don’t think I can talk to you about. And I’m tired. I am just so damn tired.”
“Sera, what are you talking about? Yesterday we spoke out going out, about trying this. where the hell is this coming from?” I rush to ask.
She’s silent at that profession.
“Seraphina, cierń, I—”
“No,” she cuts me off. “I can’t do this. I…” She pauses, her voice breaking. “I was with Mitch yesterday. We—he—it’s complicated.”
“Sera, what are you saying?”
“Lincoln, I have to tell you something.” She softens her voice, making the whispered words barely audible.
I stay quiet, allowing her to work through whatever narrative she has in her head. I have to check my phone to make sure we’re still connected.
Clearing her throat, an ominous feeling takes over. Before she begins speaking, I know that this is the end of whatever the fuck this is. “Mitch asked me to try again.”
“Is this what you want?” I don’t believe for a fucking second that this is what she wants. Not after everything she’s told me about him, and not after the way he’s continuously treated her. “If you’re in trouble, you can let me know. I can help you.”
“Help me?” Her laugh is watery like she’s choking back tears. “Lincoln, we’ve met in person once. What exactly did we think would happen? I’m in high school, and you’re going to be a big-shot chef in less than two years. I’m moving to Pennsylvania in August. This just doesn’t make sense. I need to be realistic about things. And this, this isn’t realistic.”
Her voice has steel, a determination that shouldn’t be admirable. But like a sap, everything about Seraphina enthralls me.
“So, you go back to that asshole and what? Live his dreams instead of yours? I know guys like him, cierń. They’re not good. He’s going to suck you dry until there’s nothing left of you to feast on. No soul left in your body. Is that what you want? To be a fucking shell of yourself at eighteen years old?”
“Lincoln, you don’t understand.”
“You’re right, I don’t. This is fucking dumb, Sera. I’m not asking you to be with me if you don’t want it. But that guy? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Lincoln,” she whispers, her voice so light I have to strain myself to hear her. “I don’t want to be your friend. But I also have no desire to be the high school girl following a man around like an idiot.”
“Sera—” I start, just to be cut off by a bell ringing in the background.
“Shit, I need to get to my next period. I’ll talk to you later.”
She ends the call, and I stare at my phone in confusion.
I press on her contact information and dial her back, and the call immediately goes to voicemail.
Pulling up our text thread, I type out a message.
Lincoln : Seraphina, call me when you get home
The message shows as delivered, but there’s a feeling in my gut, one that tells me that whatever plans we were making and the future that we may have had are done.
Pierdoli? .
What the fuck just happened?