27. Seraphina
27
Seraphina
My phone vibrates in my pocket, a violent crescendo that seems to mock me while May leads me through my final day of training. When I accepted the graduate assistant position last week, it was with the understanding that I would start working in the Marymount University library at the end of next month, right before the semester began.
Maybe it’s luck or divine intervention, but when May called me and told me they received special permission to bring me on part-time before my graduate assistantship officially started, I was elated. Partly because it put me into direct contact with books, some of my favorite things in the world, but primarily because it kept my mind and body so busy, it was hard to fill the hours with thoughts of much else.
Like Lincoln. Or like getting fingered by Lincoln in the alley behind Garganello’s. Those kinds of thoughts were so pervasive that they consumed my every waking moment if I were to give in to them.
“Why don’t you head down to the archive room and start working on those boxes I showed you? The library is open until ten tonight, but you should be able to head out around nine with the rest of the part-time staff,” May instructs, her voice low at the information desk adjacent to the lobby.
Glancing at the clock behind her, I see that it’s not even five, leaving me with over four hours in the brightly lit basement.
“No problem. I’ll head down there now. I’ll start right where the other assistant left off.”
May waves me off, turning toward her computer and logging in. Her dismissal amuses me, especially since she’s in a bright-green two-piece linen outfit that shows a sliver of her stomach and has cherry earrings hanging from her ears. In comparison, in my cigarette pants and sleeveless turtleneck, I look like a moody slam poet from the nineties.
Needless to say, it’s very different vibes.
As I turn to leave the vestibule, May’s voice rings out. “And Seraphina, don’t forget, no food or drinks down there.”
Looking over my shoulder, I smile at May, who’s still staring at her screen. I don’t bother responding since the only thing I can say is, of course. Instead, I turn forward and start to walk the ornately structured walls that lead toward the basement.
A single vibration in my pocket reminds me that I have missed notifications on my phone. I pull it from my back pocket, bringing it to my face. My stomach flutters at Lincoln’s name on the screen.
Unable to stop myself, I unlock my phone and read his text. The flutters in my stomach turn into a weightless feeling in my gut, almost like I’m on a roller coaster and nearing the pinnacle.
Lincoln (4:15 PM) : I get off at seven tonight. We need to talk.
Halting my steps in the middle of the hallway, I bite down on my bottom lip and consider how to reply. His text came through almost twenty minutes ago, and I know from our conversation earlier this week that he worked lunch.
Seraphina : I’m in the library tonight. I can call you tonight?
I could refuse to speak to him, feign busyness, or use my job as a very real, very legitimate excuse. But after two days of not speaking with him, but thinking of him whenever my mind wasn’t consumed by librarian jargon, I knew that my answer was definite. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to hear his gruff voice delivering his dry humor while he called me a thorn and to feel the warmth from the interaction.
Knowing that he won’t respond, at least not right away, I slip my phone back into my pocket and resume my walk toward the basement entrance.
I round the corner, entering a wide hallway with workstations on the right side. It’s not surprising to see that almost every station is occupied. Despite the summer months, Marymount leads professional and summer programs, calling students of all levels to the prestigious campus. I let my eyes roam over the stations, glazing over the heads bent over laptops and textbooks. Nothing sticks out as unusual, so I let my eyes drift forward as I continue toward the basement door. I reach out, intending to twist the handle and disappear downstairs, but a hand shoots out, cupping my elbow in a light whisper of a touch.
I whip my head around, nearly convinced that I imagined the squeeze. “What the— Oh.”
“Hi, Fin,” Chris says behind me, looking as polished and unwelcome as he did last week. “I was hoping I’d see you again.” I look around Chris, peering at the library patrons who seem oblivious to the discomfort this hello is causing me.
“Hello. I need to get to work. It was nice seeing you.” I keep my tone clipped, my words short, in an effort to convey how much I do not want to talk to him. My promise to Liv plays in my mind, telling me to get as far away from Chris as I possibly can. But there’s a nagging thought in the back of my head telling me that escaping to the basement by myself right now is not a good idea.
Before I can move away from him, Chris opens his mouth. “I told Mitch I saw you. He was surprised, said you haven’t reached out to tell him you’re back in town.” There’s reproach in his voice, and I want to kick him in the balls for implying I owe anything to him or Mitch. “He’s excited to see you again.”
“Stay away from me,” I hiss, keeping my voice low and steady. “And you can tell Mitch that he is not welcome near me or my family. Make sure to remind him of my restraining order.”
“Don’t be like that, Fin.” Chris chuckles as though I’m telling the funniest joke he’s heard all summer. “We were friends once, weren’t we? Speaking of, how’s your friend Olivia? I heard she’s back in town too.”
My brows furrow at his mention of Olivia, and I step back, placing more distance between us as he speaks. I can’t hold back the question that spills from my mouth. “How do you know who Olivia is?”
His smile turns feral, and chills race down my spine, a warning to get away from this man as quickly as possible. “We’re old camp buddies. Let her know Chris from Camp Discovery said hi.” I feel the blood drain from my face, pieces that should have never been assembled falling back into place. I know the camp he’s talking about, the one Mitch tried forcing me to go to the summer before college. What I didn’t know was that my beautiful, smart, incredibly strong friend was there that summer. That the demon in front of me must have contributed to the hurt she suffered.
Keeping my voice as steady as possible, I meet his eyes. “Stay away from her, Chris, and stay away from me. I don’t know what game you think you’re playing, but it won’t work.”
“Won’t it, though, Fin? I’ll make sure Mitch knows you send your regards. Who knows, maybe he’ll even stop by one of these days.”
“Stay the fuck away from us, Chris,” I repeat, putting more conviction behind my words before shoving past him. I race to the lobby, to the sanctuary of other people, and don’t stop until I find May still working at the computer.
If May is startled by my reappearance, she doesn’t say, just continues to click and move her mouse sporadically.
“Everything okay, Seraphina?”
“Mhm. Yes. Everything is great. I’m just going to run out for a coffee. Would you like anything?” My words cause her head to shoot up, eyes trained on me.
“No, but finish your coffee before you go downstairs. The administration would have my head if any more files were ruined.”
Nodding, I agree to her terms. “Of course. I’ll be back in ten minutes.” I resist the urge to look over my shoulder to verify that Chris isn’t following me as I make my way to the employee break room. It’s a surprisingly well-stocked room with two gender-neutral bathrooms, and I run into one of them and lock myself in. Part of me muses that I keep finding myself locked in bathrooms, but a greater part of me is just concerned about calling my brother and making sure he can drive by my apartment and check on Olivia.
Pulling up his contact, I listen to the ringback tone and bring my thumb to my teeth, biting down as I wait for his answer. When it goes to voicemail, I try again. And again.
On the third attempt, I decide to leave a message. “Rafe, I need you to drive by the apartment and check on Liv. She has work tonight, so if you don’t see her car in the lot, try the bar and then call me back, okay? I saw Chris again, and he mentioned O-Olivia.” I stutter at my best friend’s name, hating the way the confession feels in my mouth. “Just make sure she’s okay, alright? Chris mentioned her name, and it freaked me out. Love you. Call me soon.” I disconnect, bringing my phone to my side as I debate my next steps.
I know I can’t stay in here too much longer, but I’m also too agitated to go back out. I could call Bianca, though her voice and thought process typically induce a headache rather than repel it. The only other choice is Ava.
Bringing the phone back up, I dial Ava’s number and wait for her to answer. “Ser? Aren’t you at work right now? I’m just in the middle of a private chef event and can’t talk. Is everything okay?”
I wince at her words, guilt swarming me at the reminder that Ava had a big private dinner in the city and enlisted Serena and CeCe to help her serve the food tonight. “Shoot, I’m so sorry Aves. It’s nothing, I—”
“Nope, you wouldn’t have called me if you didn’t need me. And—wait, no, Celeste, don’t touch that pan, it’s hot—fuck. Dammit, I told you it was hot. God, she doesn’t listen,” she muses, and I can hear the eye roll in her voice. “Anyway, what’s going on?”
“I saw Chris Kopicki a week ago. And I saw him again tonight,” I confess, not giving any preamble. “He mentioned Mitch and Olivia, and it freaked me out.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ava’s voice loses all the mirth it usually holds. In its place, she sounds livid. “What a fucking dickface. I’ll kill him, I swear I will—”
“Ava, I’m just calling you to vent. I don’t need anything other than for you to ask Grey to try to get in touch with Rafe so that he can check on Liv. I’m sorry, I know you’re busy, but after the comment Chris made, I want to make sure Liv is okay, and Rafe isn’t answering.”
“Of course.” I hear the clattering of a knife. “I’ll have Grey handle it; after all, he’s going to be my husband soon, isn’t he?”
I let out a light laugh. “Yeah, Aves, he is.” I hang up without saying another word and lean against the bathroom door, breathing in a deep breath before mentally preparing myself to get back out there.