7. Serafina
CHAPTER 7
Serafina
M y fists are gloves of lead today, each swing towards the heavy bag sluggish and imprecise. Lucas' rhythmic dance around me is a ballet I can't keep in step with, his eyes drilling into mine as if he's trying to unbox secrets along with my jabs.
"Snap out of it, Serafina," his voice is a low hum that usually steadies my nerves. Not today.
Today, there's a flutter in my chest, a secret admirer whose gifts of plants have taken root in my mind, growing wild and untamed thoughts. And until I know who they are and what they want from me, I can't tell Lucas; I can't tell anyone.
"Sorry," I mutter, shaking my head to clear the image of the petite woman handing her money to the cashier before taking the plant and exiting the store.
"What's wrong?" Lucas catches my hands mid-punch, halting my feeble attempt at a hook. He looks at me, really looks at me, and I feel stripped bare. "You're miles away. Talk to me."
I shake my head, forcing a tight smile as I try to push away the electrical jolt that courses through me from his touch. "It's nothing, just family stuff." I don't owe him a thing, yet every part of me aches with the weight of the lie on my tongue.
He doesn't buy it but nods all the same, releasing my hands. "Let's go again. And Sera, relax. You're safe here."
Safe. It's a word that doesn't quite fit in my world, yet he makes it sound like a promise. A promise I wish I could surrender to, like wrapping myself in a cozy down comforter on a cold, snowy night, feeling the weight of safety and security enveloping me as I drift off into peaceful slumber.
We start again, his moves deliberate yet cautious, showing me he's not just any boxer — he's also a protector. My protector. With each jab, he pulls back just enough, as if coaxing the fight out of me rather than demanding it.
"Good," he encourages, his grey eyes softening. "That's it."
I don't want to feel guarded around Lucas, never around him. But the layers of my life are like the protective tape wrapped around my hands—necessary, even when they make me itch for freedom. I throw a punch with more force, fueled by the frustration of these invisible chains.
"Ahí está!" Lucas encourages me, and something in his approval shines brighter than the sweat beading on his forehead. "You've got fire, Serafina. Don't ever hide it."
I can't help but smile, a genuine one this time. My guard drops—not just the physical readiness but the walls around my heart. How does he do that? Make me forget the weight of my last name, the constant looking over my shoulder? In his presence, the fear dissipates like shadows at dawn.
"Okay, Lucas. I'm here. I'm present." And I am. For the first time in too long, I'm more than a pawn in a dangerous game. I'm just a girl, learning to trust the boy who's teaching her to fight not just her battles but for herself, too.
"Good," he says, and there's an emotion in his grey eyes I can't quite place. Maybe it's hope or something deeper, something that makes my chest tighten and my breath catch.
"Keep your hands up, principessa," he instructs, but the term of endearment sends a jolt through me. My princess.
"Thank you," I respond, and when our gloves meet again, it's not just a spar. It's a silent conversation, an exchange of trust and unspoken promises. And for a fleeting moment, amidst the echoes of leather on leather, I allow myself to wonder if maybe, just maybe, I could find solace in this man who, all too suddenly, is beginning to feel like an oasis in the desert that is my life.