Chapter ThirteenSeraphine“Wait, wait, wait. It was a kiss and a diss?” Azalea asks, while absentmindedly running her fingers through her pug Boudreaux’s short fur.
I toe the porch swing back, letting the brisk fall air soothe some of the heat scalding my cheeks. We’ve spent the last hour on Azalea’s back porch dissecting the whole kiss thing from last weekend. “Hardly a kiss.”
“But your lips touched—Brody! No, don’t put leaves in your mouth!” Myla Rose leans over and fishes the debris out of her toddler’s mouth with a huff. “We do not eat things off the ground, okay, dude?”
“O’tay, Mama.”
She ruffles his curls. “Go play with Willow.”
He scampers off, and she turns back to me. “Lip contact?”
I bob my head back and forth. “There was tongue involved”—my friends start to howl— “but only for like a second! I swear, the whole thing was over before it even started.”
Azalea squints her eyes at me. “It still counts.”
“I really don’t think it does. He acted like he was Snow-freaking-White and my mouth was a poisonous apple.”
“Oooh, maybe you need to try again, then, and this time he can be the prince instead?”
I roll my eyes at Azzy. God love her. “Pretty sure it doesn’t work like that.”
She shrugs. “It could. It’s your fairy tale, write it the way you want and fuck the rest.”
“Shh.” Magnolia holds a finger to her lips. “Little ears.”
Myla Rose laughs. “Poor Brody hears it enough at home from Cash and Drake.”
“What do you think, Mags?” I ask my cousin. “You’ve been pretty quiet.”
She scrunches her face up, tilting her head to one side and then the other. “I think… you’re both very much attracted to one another. And while there’s obvious chemistry, y’all are scared. Which is understandable. New things can be really scary.” She smiles wistfully. “But they can be really awesome, too.”
“Plus,” Azalea interjects, “he flat-out said he was into you. He called you forbidden, and everyone knows forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.”
“I’m not a freaking apple.”
“But he wants to take a bite out of you like one!” Azalea smirks like she’s bested me.
“He got caught up in the moment. It was nothing—it meant nothing.”
Magnolia hums under her breath. “It meant something to you though.”
My phone rings before I can reply. My eyes widen when I see Mateo’s name flash across the screen.
“Who is it?” Myla asks.
“It’s him.”
“Answer!” all three women shout.
I slide the bar on the screen to the right and bring the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Seraphine, hey.” Even through the phone, his deep, lightly accented voice makes me feel all warm and gooey.
Too bad I’m still mad at him. “Did you need something?”
He coughs in disbelief. “No. Well, kind of. Yes.”
“Which is it, Mateo?” I make sure to add a little extra bite to my tone, even though I’m secretly loving how flustered he sounds.
“Yes, I need something. I need you to meet me at the garage tomorrow morning.”
“Why? We don’t open until next Monday.”
I can nearly sense his frustration through the phone. “I have something to show you. Please, Seraphine?”
“Yeah, okay. What time?”
“Nine?”
“I’ll be there.” I end the call and slide my phone into the front pocket of my hoodie.
“Well?” Azalea asks. “What did he say?”
“Nothing really. Told me to meet him at the shop tomorrow morning.”
Myla Rose taps her chin. “Did he say why?”
“Nope.”
“Well, dress sexy,” Azalea says.
“And maybe bring him some coffee?” Magnolia adds.
My lips quirk up into a half-smile. “Hell no; he can bring me coffee.”
“’Atta girl!” Myla Rose crows, and the four of us dissolve into laughter.* * *The following morning, I decide taking both Azalea and Magnolia’s advice couldn’t hurt. Really, it’s a win-win: a kickass outfit to serve as armor and piping hot coffee as a peace offering.
I dress in ripped jeans and a slouchy, cream-colored sweater that hangs off of my left shoulder in a way that’s as sexy as it is sweet. I can’t resist playing up the sexy just a little though, and layer a mauve lace bralette underneath.
I’m out the door by eight-fifteen, giving myself plenty of time to swing by Dream Beans for coffee. Hopefully Hazel’s working—God love her, the girl remembers everyone’s orders, which will make my caffeinated bribe a sure thing.
The drive from my house to the coffee shop passes in a blur of nerves. “I am a badass. I am worthy. I am loved,” I repeat my little D-I-Y mantra the entire drive until my anxiety settles back down to a dull roar in the recess of my mind.
“Good morning, Seraphine,” my favorite barista calls out as soon as I walk through the door. Between that and scoring curbside parking, maybe for what feels like the first time ever, luck is on my side. “You want your usual?”
“Yes, please,” I say as I step up to the stunning reclaimed wood counter. “And whatever Mateo Reyes usually orders as well.”