12. Seraphina
12
SERAPHINA
“ARE YOU STALKING ME?”
I wake with tears pouring down my face, a heavy pressure on my chest that I don’t know what to do with. I know what I dreamed was a memory, yet the more I concentrate on the details, the faster they slip from my mind, joining the list of things I can no longer remember.
After shoving sweat-slicked hair from my brow, I throw the covers off and stumble out of my bedroom, needing to make sure Maggie is safe. Slowly, I crack open her door, heaving a deep sigh of relief when I see her spread out on top of her mattress. Her mouth is slightly parted in sleep, and I clap a hand over my mouth as a snore pours from her mouth to suppress my giggle.
Satisfied, I close the door and stumble into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as a yawn tears from my mouth. The process of waking up is foreign to me—as is falling asleep—and the few hours I managed to get last night seemed to have made me more tired than before. With half-lidded eyes, I shuffle toward the crusty coffee machine, my hand heavy as I scoop spoonfuls of espresso into the middle partition.
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty.”
I jump at the sound of Maggie’s voice, spilling dark grounds all over the counter and floor with a colorful curse.
“Sorry.” A playful smirk tugs at her lips. “I didn’t realize I was so scary.”
“I didn’t hear you come out.” I close the lid on the machine and press start. “How’d you sleep?”
“Better than you, I’d reckon.” She plops down onto one of the barstools opposite the counter. “Dream you was not having a good time.”
I cringe as I stoop to clean up the mess. “Did I wake you?”
“Just a couple of times.” She shrugs, and my chest squeezes with guilt. That is, until she says, “I was thinking about pressing a pillow over your face, but I fought the urge.”
“You’re a monster.” I take a seat next to her as I wait for the coffee to brew.
Maggie grins like she doesn’t have a care in the world, her face fresh and clear despite the fact she just rolled out of bed. I eye Maggie’s strange, mismatched outfit with a raised brow. Bright orange leggings and a puke green tank top is definitely a choice to make. “What in God’s left testicle are you wearing?”
Maggie scrunches her nose. “Nobody says ‘God’s left testicle’ Nina. Stop trying to make it a thing.”
I narrow my eyes. “You’ve been watching too much TV.”
“And you haven’t been watching enough—clearly.”
“I watch enough to get your Mean Girls reference,” I scoff. “Anyone ever told you you’re a real grouch in the morning?”
She sighs heavily, crossing the living room and plopping down onto one of the barstools. “Just this one real turd with silver hair… By the way, your coffee is burning.”
I narrow my eyes, deciding to let the turd comment slide as an acrid scent fills the air.
“Oh, shit.” I rush toward the machine as thick gray smoke billows into the air. Yanking the cord from the outlet, I stare in horror at the thick brown sludge sitting at the bottom of the coffee pot.
“Just go to the café down the street like you always do.” Maggie waves a hand in front of her nose. “This is ridiculous.”
I shake my head, turning and grabbing a mug from the cabinet in a final act of determination. “It’s a waste of money. And I refuse to believe I’m incapable of making some damn bean water for myself.”
Maggie giggles. “Bean water isn’t a thing either.”
“Pah.” I turn and pour myself a heaping cup of the dark brown sludge. Coffee shouldn't have this texture. I’m not even sure it’s physically possible.
Not thinking about it, I suck down a mouthful and promptly pass away from the foul taste that infiltrates every one of my senses.
“Ma… Maggie,” I croak, reaching out for her as tears crowd my vision and pour down my face. “It… it hurts Maggie.”
Howling giggles pierce the air, the sound accompanied by several short snorts as Maggie loses her ever-loving shit. “I… can’t believe you… actually drank… it.” She throws her head back, nearly falling from the barstool. “Too stubborn… for… your own good…”
For some reason, a sharp pain echoes in my chest at her words, but I can’t for the life of me figure out why. “I don’t need this abuse. I’m going to the coffee shop.”
I grab my keys from the counter, fighting a smile as Maggie’s laughter fills the room. “I’ll be back soon!” I call, locking the door tight behind me.
The chilly morning air bites at my exposed skin as soon as I step outside, and I regret not changing out of my pajamas. My bunny slippers scuff the sidewalk as I take off down the street, practically sprinting around the corner as the cold burrows down to the marrow of my bones.
My cheeks are flushed as I push open the door to the coffee shop. Warmth envelops me, and I stand there for a few moments basking in the scent of freshly brewed coffee while my skin thaws. There’s only one person in line—a tall, well-dressed man—and I happily scuffle to the space a few feet behind him, my eyes perusing the wall of flavors and concoctions while the man prattles off his order.
There’s something familiar about the low timbre of his voice—something that has my thighs clenching as it pours over me like hot honey—warming my bones and sending a shock of electricity pulsing toward my center. I stare at his broad shoulders, a memory pricking the back of my mind as a dark, beautiful aura infects the air around him.
And then it hits me. The man from the bar.
Sensing my eyes, the man turns on his heels, all at once capturing me in an extraordinary blue gaze. A smirk tugs at his sinful mouth as he drags his eyes down my frame, taking in my baggy pajamas, bunny slippers, and all.
“Brandy… are you stalking me?”
The question catches me off guard. I stand there like a blubbering fish, lost for words as his smile widens, revealing a set of perfectly straight white teeth.
“I’m flattered. But there’s truly no need.”
A frown pinches my brows. “And why’s that.”
“Because…” He takes a step forward until we’re inches from each other. My pulse spikes as he leans low, his lips a breath from my ear as he growls out, “Because… I’m stalking you .”
I reel back, my eyes wide as I search his face for sincerity. He laughs like he just told the funniest joke in the world, turning back to the barista without so much as another glance.
Okay… what the fuck?
I’m about to voice this thought when he steps to the side, not even looking back as he walks toward the pick-up counter. The barista gives me a sugary smile, clearly unaware of the war waging in my mind.
My knees wobble as I step up to the counter, my mind so frazzled I end up ordering the first thing on the menu. The girl smiles politely as she takes down my name, but she holds up a hand when I reach for my card.
“Your order’s been paid for.”
“Oh… thank you.”
“No need.” She leans in and gives me a conspiratorial look. “ He paid for it.”
I swallow hard, fighting the urge to look in Orion’s direction. “How sweet.”
“Oh my gosh, I know right.” She grins, shooting a look toward the burly man. “You should totally try to get his number.”
I smile, though it tugs painfully at my cheeks. “I totally will,” I say, knowing it’s a lie. “Thanks again.”
She waves with a girlish giggle, and I trudge to the pickup counter, my heart hammering against my rib cage with each step I take closer to Orion Adair. I stop a few feet from him, our shoulders level, eyes staring straight ahead at nothing as I wait for my coffee. The seconds tick by like eons, each moment that passes more uncomfortable than the next, until finally, I can’t take the stifling silence any longer.
“Thank you.” I grit teeth. “For the coffee.”
Orion makes a sound low in his throat, that infuriating smirk never wavering. “My pleasure, Brandy. ”
I clear my throat, then busy myself picking at a hangnail when he says nothing more. “So you’re stalking me?” The question pops from my mouth before I have the chance to stop it, though it has the intended effect.
Orion drags his gaze lazily to me, settling uneasily on the line of my scar. “What on earth would give you that idea?”
I scoff. “You literally just said you were!”
He frowns, rearing back like I just told him I shit fairy dust. “I would never say something so heinous. I’m an officer of the law, Brandy, and I take my job extremely seriously.”
Is this guy for real? “If it was just a joke, you can say that, dude.”
His eyes narrow dangerously as I utter the last word, but his expression is carefully schooled a moment later, leaving me to believe I imagined it. “Trust me, if I told a joke as disturbing as that, I’d own up to it. I’m terribly sorry if I’ve given you a negative impression of me.”
My head swims at the formality of his tone—so different from the beastly thing I heard growling in my ear a minute ago. “You… I don’t… never mind.” I cross my arms and fix my eyes forward again.
Did he really not say that? My head hurts as I try to recall the interaction. So many things become distorted as I experience them that I fear I might have actually hallucinated the whole thing.
We stand in silence for the next few minutes, but when our coffees are placed on the counter, neither moves forward to grab it. Orion turns to me, an unsettling smile plastered on his handsome face.
“It was nice to see you again, Brandy.” Faster than I can blink, he grabs my coffee and pushes it into my hand, his fingertips grazing mine slightly.
My eyes widen at the gentle hum of electricity that flows between us, but just as soon as it starts, Orion pulls away.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a small white business card, eyes blazing as he shoves it toward me. “Here. In case you run into trouble.”
I raise my brow, refusing to take the card. “Isn’t that what 911 is for?”
He just laughs. “You’re a smart girl. You know how things work in this city.” His smile drops to reveal the face of a sincere man—an honest man. “By the time any officer would answer the call, there’d be no hope for you if something bad happened. And bad things are always happening in Moriton.”
With a huff, I snatch the card from his hand, and that smile of his returns. “It was nice to meet you… Brandy. ”
My hands shake slightly as I look down at the card, though there’s nothing insidious etched onto its face. Just a name and a number—like he said.
With a scowl, I shove the card deep into my pocket to forget about, then hasten toward the exit. I try to keep my mind from the hauntingly beautiful man—from the strange aura swirling from his frame—but every time I try, that smile embeds deeper into my psyche until it’s the only thing I see when I close my eyes.
For the rest of the day, I try to ignore how it makes me feel. Try to convince myself that I’m not curious about the mysterious stranger. That even if I am, it makes no difference—I’ll never see him again.
Yet his presence lingers long after he’s gone.