10. Seraphina
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.
Shaking my head, I pull myself out of my thoughts and focus on the syllabus in front of me. At Penn U, I studied library sciences and found solace in the stacks, reorganizing the books touched and handled by the students and faculty until they were perfectly positioned on the shelves.
I didn’t want to come back to New Jersey, let alone apply for a spot in Marymount’s elite master’s of library science program, but I knew that I would have been foolish not to. With its reputation and proximity to my family, I think my parents would have disowned me if I hadn’t agreed to finally move closer to home.
The familiarity and abundance of Wawas—one of the most popular gas stations in the area—are nice, but I keep looking over my shoulder, expecting one of the ghouls from my past to pop out. I know Liv feels the same way; her energy has been unsteady and frantic ever since she followed me back. We couldn’t be more different: the tough-as-nails beauty with a love of wildlife and the outdoors, and me, a pint-size people-pleaser with a penchant for solitude and antiques. But somehow, we work.
I look down at my syllabus again, prepared to memorize the assignments, their due dates, and the course expectations. But just as I settle into the chair to immerse myself in the droll words, a knock sounds on my door. I wait for my sister to answer it, but when seconds tick by and she doesn’t open her bedroom door, I sigh in defeat.
“Coming, coming,” I yell out.
“That’s what she said,” a voice responds, and I roll my eyes at Ava’s words.
“Why are all of my siblings so weird— Oh, hi, Greyson,” I yelp, surprised to find Ava’s boyfriend on the other side of the door, though really, the two rarely leave each other’s side. When they first got together almost four and a half years ago, I had apprehension and reservations; he seemed unhealthily obsessed with my sister, to the point where I worried his attention was stifling. My concern only grew when she was attacked by one of his former hook-ups, landing her in an emergency surgery to save her life.
But what I noticed about Ava and Grey is that, while they are definitely obsessed with each other, they’re not codependent.
“Smalls,” he teases, nodding at me as he steps over the threshold with large trays cradled in his hand. Following his entry for a moment, I watch as he places them on the worn coffee table.
“Yes, hi. Remember me? You don’t need to look at Grey’s ass.”
Shaking my head, I turn my head and focus on my sister and her very bizarre outfit. “Ava, it’s June, why are you wearing gloves? And what is with that scarf?” She is dressed like a pinup from 1942, with a red swing dress, black gloves, and a red-and-black scarf artfully draped over her head and tied around her neck. Her cat-eye sunglasses and red lipstick complete her look, and while she looks stunning, I’m confused as to why she’s so dressed up when we’re having wings and pizza in my small apartment.
“I’m trying a new thing.” She waves dismissively, shouldering past me. Closing the door behind her, I watch her saunter up to Greyson and feel myself become uncomfortably warm at the look in his eyes while my sister’s curvy body is on display.
I love their love for each other, but moments like this make me want to vomit. It’s not that I don’t like how comfortable they are—how obviously in love and attracted they are to one another—it’s that I’m jealous, and I hate myself for it.
Clearing my throat, I avert my gaze the moment Greyson wraps an arm around my sister’s waist and pulls her flush against his body. Her soft giggle tells me that I need to put an end to it before I have to offer them my room to relieve some of their obvious need.
“Bianca, will you get your ass in here before Ava and Grey start christening our furniture?”
“Hey! We’re not that bad,” Ava complains.
“Vixen,” Grey growls, a smile in the word, though I’m not sure how that’s even possible.
“Bianca, I’m serious. Now.”
A creaking of a door tells me that Bianca is coming out of her cave and joining the PDA session we’ve found ourselves in.
“Who says I haven’t already christened the couch?”
To someone else, someone not related to Bianca by blood or through a relationship, I’m sure the way the three of us whipped our heads around at that statement, and the matching grimaces on our faces, would be comical.
Right now, it’s just disgusting.
“Bianca, are you joking? We eat on that couch; we watch movies there.” I control my voice, keeping it level when I want to scream. “You have a bedroom. Can’t you bring guys in there?”
“Bedrooms are private.” She shrugs like she’s stating the obvious.
Shooting her a glare, I breathe out, “Exactly,” into the room, though no one hears me.
“Anyway,” Bianca continues, “shouldn’t the two of you be out of the honeymoon phase? It’s been like ten years, right?”
“Four and a half, but close.” Ava huffs, offering Grey a shy smile as she does.
Okay , weird , I say in my head, staring at the two of them.
I’m about to ask what’s going on when a knock sounds on my door—ripping my eyes from the scene before me. I open the door, smiling when I see Rafe on the other side.
“Hey, little one,” he comments, and I roll my eyes at the nickname. He’s older than me by five minutes, and he won’t let me forget it.
“Five minutes, Rafe. It’s only five minutes.”
Ignoring me, he walks into my apartment and greets Ava and Bianca with hugs before shaking Greyson’s hand and giving him that weird backslap hug combination all men seem to love.
“Ava, the fuck are you wearing?” Rafe asks, confusion lacing his voice.
“Clothes.”
“And a scarf and gloves, and why are your sunglasses still on?”
Rafe’s words are met with silence, causing me to look at my sister and her boyfriend critically. My eyes survey her form, taking in the beautiful but overly dressy outfit and the shit-eating grin on her face. It’s the grin that tells me something more is happening.
Like a beacon, my eyes zero in on the driving gloves, the most bizarre part of the outfit since Ava would never drive if given the option. Looking at her left hand, I search for an impression on her ring finger. Sure enough, there’s one there.
My eyes widen, and I bring my hand to my mouth. “Aves, are you…? Oh my god.”
Her watery smile is the only confirmation I need before crossing my living room and throwing my arms around my big sister.
“When? Where? Do Mom and Dad know?”
“A week ago, in our apartment after dinner, and obviously. Do you really think Mom and Dad would let this happen without knowing first?”
I’m about to answer when Bianca’s voice cuts in. “Anyone care to explain what is happening here, or are we expected to be Blue’s Clues and figure this out with Mrs. Pepper and baby Cinnamon?”
“You really are obtuse,” I tease, grabbing Ava’s gloved hand.
“Well, vixen, I told you they’d know as soon as they saw you.”
“In my defense, Bianca and Rafe still don’t know.”
My brother clears his throat. “I figured it out a few seconds after Sera. Congratulations, guys.”
“Okay, what the fuck is going on?”
Rolling my eyes, I cast a glance at Bianca. “They’re engaged, B.”
“Oh! Oh my god, do you know what that means? We’re going to Vegas for the bachelorette party!”
My eyes widen in horror while Ava yells, “Absolutely not.”
Bianca’s pout is dramatic but expected. She’s about to open her mouth again when Greyson holds up a hand, silencing all conversation. “We’re getting married at my dad’s friend’s winery in Italy. This wedding is about what Ava wants, not what Bianca wants.”
“Don’t you mean about what we want?” Ava asks, a smile on her lips.
“Vixen, I want you. I could give two shits about the actual wedding, so long as you love it.”
If my sister could melt on the spot, I’m pretty sure she would.
“Alright, let us see the ring,” Bianca yells, interrupting the moment between Ava and Greyson.
Rolling her eyes, Ava slowly removes the glove from her left hand, folding it down over her fingers. My eyes widen the moment the ring comes into view.
“Holy shit,” I mutter, my eyes snagging on the solitaire round diamond that looks like it adds significant weight to Ava’s hand.
Next to Ava, Bianca clears her throat, not taking her eyes off Ava’s hand as she asks, “Greyson, are you sure you don’t have any brothers?”
—
We spent two hours discussing Ava’s wedding plans, their bridal party, and how quickly they plan to get married. I nearly choke on the bite of pizza in my mouth when she tells us they’re planning for an early winter wedding.
While it sounds beautiful, I’m also shocked by the less-than-six-month timeline.
“Are you pregnant?” B asks, and for once, I’m thankful for her lack of consideration when it comes to her curiosity.
“No, you troll. CeCe asked me the same thing.” Ava huffs, referring to her best friend and our sister by proxy. “We already live together, and we want to be married. Why wait?”
“Because you’re twenty-three,” Bianca responds, drawing out her words as though Ava is having comprehension difficulties.
“So astute of you,” I murmur, earning a smile from Ava.
“B, I love you, but we’re ready to be husband and wife. I know we’re young, but our lives aren’t going to change after the wedding. We’ll still live together, I’ll still work crazy weekends, and Grey will still work at the firm, doing things with money or whatever it is he does.”
“Investment banking, vixen.”
“See that , whatever that is.”
I shake my head before looking down at my phone and cringing at the time on the home screen. “Shit,” I mutter. Olivia hasn’t been home since six, and it’s almost nine. Unlocking my phone, I check her location, relieved when I see she’s at a familiar address: the pizzeria next to our apartment.
Beside me, my brother looks down and sees a picture of Liv and me on my lock screen. “Where is she tonight?” he whispers, low enough that I’m the only one who catches his words.
I don’t have to ask who “she” is; my brother is as attuned to Olivia as she is to him, even if she’s determined to avoid him.
“She went for a run,” I offer, not giving him the whole truth because I know Olivia wouldn’t want him to know. His jaw clenches, staring at the door like he could summon her.
“I’m going to go find her.”
“What? Rafe, no—” I start, stopping when he unfolds himself from his chair and stands.
“I’m leaving. Congratulations again.” He waves at Ava and Grey, turning toward the door so quickly that I have to pump my legs to keep pace.
“Don’t say anything, Seraphina,” Rafe mutters, not sparing me a look as his fingers clutch the door handle. “She’s hiding, always fucking hiding. I just want her safe and back in her apartment, okay?”
Taking a deep breath, I pray my best friend won’t try to kill me in my sleep for the information I’m about to share. “She’s at the pizzeria downstairs, probably eating a plate of mozzarella sticks by herself while she waits for you guys to leave.”
He nods, opening the door.
“And Rafe?” My voice stops him. “Just be gentle with her, okay?”
Nodding again, he walks through the door and closes it softly behind him. I stare at it for a minute, engrossed in my thoughts, when an arm wraps around my shoulders, giving me a soft squeeze. Looking up, I see the concerned stare of Greyson, the big brother I never expected.
“You okay with seeing Linc again, smalls?”
I nod, mimicking Rafe’s movements from moments again.
“Don’t bullshit me, Ser. Are you sure you’re going to be okay seeing him? It’s been four years, but I know the two of you were friends… until you weren’t.” What Greyson doesn’t say is that we were friends until I let Mitch Abernathy manipulate me into cutting all ties with Lincoln in an unnecessary move to protect my family.
Who didn’t need protecting.
I look away from Greyson’s face. The memory of my mortification is too real when it’s presented through someone else. When I think about high school, how it started, and how it ended, I always separate it into three distinct parts: the before, the during, and the after. It would be easy to attribute those segments to Mitch, but it’s Lincoln who divided that timeline.
Before and after were gray, entirely self-imposed, and wholly my fault. But during? During was a kaleidoscope of color and excitement, with late-night texts and early-morning FaceTimes.
But, god, how I wished our story ended differently. With Grey’s arm around my shoulders, I think about our stolen moment on the first night we met and how nothing outside of Lincoln existed while we played that silly game of twenty questions to pass the time. Even now, I can hear his voice in my head like a specter, calling me “cierń,” or thorn, in near-flawless Polish with a smug grin on his face.
Shaking my head, I lean into Grey for a moment and give him a pat on the back before disengaging myself. “I’ll be fine. Like you said, it was a long time ago; he probably doesn’t even remember me.”
I don’t expect the bark of laughter that erupts from Greyson’s mouth or the words he can’t seem to hold back. “Oh, this summer is going to be a fucking shit show, smalls.”