Leaning forward, she fishes a pink Starburst out of the bag on the coffee table while I open the movie store app.
“By the way,” she says. “You didn’t tell me your birthday was coming up.”
I pause with the remote still aimed at the television. “Who told you that?”
It isn’t that it’s a secret; it’s that someone talking about my birthday automatically makes me suspicious.
Her head snaps up, and her eyes widen. “Er… no one.” She shoves a Starburst in her mouth.
Yep. Just like I thought. Not hard to guess what’s going on here.
“Is Dallas trying to throw me a surprise party?”
Seraphina chews the candy slowly like she’s trying to buy herself some time to think. “I don’t know if it was meant to be a surprise per se, but I may have been instructed not to tell you about it.” She grimaces. “I’m terrible at keeping secrets. Sorry.”
I’m not a big fan of surprises, and I’m even less fond of surprise parties. But with the dirt Dallas is holding over my head, it’s not like I can complain. Plus, it’s well-intentioned. As the extrovert of the house, sometimes he forgets not everyone is wired the same way.
“It’s fine,” I tell her. “I’d rather know. As long as we can sneak off for some birthday sex.”
Her mouth tips up at the corner. “We can definitely sneak off for some birthday sex.”
After a moment’s debate—though I suspect she secretly knew what she wanted all along—Seraphina chooses Legally Blonde because I haven’t seen it and she claims it’s the holy grail of movies. I hit play, then take her left foot in my hands and dig my thumb into the arch, massaging.
“Ooh, that’s good.” She leans back into the cushions, letting out a sigh that sounds borderline sexual. “I could get used to this.”
Halfway through the movie, she’s out cold on my chest. The frame stills as I hit pause to hold our place. Sundays are my only day off from all forms of training, and there’s a chance we’ll have time to finish tomorrow before Chase and Dallas get back. While I wouldn’t have watched this on my own, now I’m invested. Warner is a total douchecanoe, and I’m rooting for his downfall.
There’s something else about the movie that resonates with me, too. I think I can see why Seraphina relates to it, and that gives me a little more insight into her.
Switching the TV to ESPN, I dial down the volume until it’s neatly inaudible. Then I glance down at Sera, debating whether to move her into bed or let her sleep a little longer before I try. Her lips are parted slightly, her dark lashes resting against her upper cheeks. A sense of protectiveness washes over me, followed by massive confusion.
What the fuck am I doing?
Caleb is figuratively breathing down my neck, New York has a wandering eye when it comes to goalies, and the Falcons are fighting to secure a playoff spot this season. I can’t let anyone down, least of all myself, and I need to focus now more than ever. Yet I just spent the better part of the last twenty-four hours taking a vacation from reality, pretending none of those priorities exist.
Getting involved with someone like this is the last thing I should do. What’s worse is I don’t even know if I can help it. I’m weak when it comes to Seraphina—and it’s not because I like the sex.
This realization conjures up a deluge of feelings I don’t want to face and questions I don’t want to answer. Instead, I reach for my phone and pull up my email. There’s a new message from Mark titled, EnduraFuel Invitational Weekend. I read the body of the email, my body tensing as I do.
I know we’re still two weeks out, but just touching base to make sure you saw the flight confirmation emails. Your direct flight departs from here at 9:15 a.m. Friday, and your return flight departs from LAX at 7:10 a.m. Monday morning.
EnduraFuel is the official hydration partner of the league, and their annual invitational is a Big Fucking Deal. It’s exclusively for high-end prospects who’ve already been drafted or are likely to get picked up in the near future. Just being there is a flex. There’s a skills competition, a three-on-three mini-tournament, and a bunch of other events that people can buy tickets to come and watch. Essentially, it’s one big dick swinging contest, and the media is all over it—which means I need to be on my A-game.
For the next two weeks, I need to be sharp both mentally and physically. Extra sleep. Minimal stress. Extra tactical work…
Seraphina stirs, cracking open one eye sleepily. “Hi, Hades.”
“Hey, Tink.” Locking my phone, I set it aside. “Want to go to bed?”
I can’t afford the distraction, but what if it’s too late?
CHAPTER 25
CARE AND CONSIDERATION
SERAPHINA
In honor of getting through another week, I’m doing two things that frighten me today, the first of which is submitting my poem to the Revolve Magazine contest. I’m even submitting it early, which is incredibly off brand for me.
With a few more keystrokes, my application form is complete. I hold my breath and pray as I click “submit.” The page reloads with a confirmation it’s been received.
I had a last-minute change of heart and used the poem I workshopped in class as my contest entry. After all the feedback I received, I made some fairly substantial changes. Chloe helped me with a few more tweaks, and Maxine gave me some feedback as well. Still no way to know if it’s what the judges are looking for, but it’s easily the rawest thing I’ve ever written. I bled all over that page. Even if I don’t win—which is likely—at least I know I gave it my all.
The second, and current, frightening item on my agenda is booking my BRCA testing. Or trying to book it, anyway. I’ve been sitting in my room looking at my phone for more than ten minutes, trying to will myself to hit the green call button.
My thumb hovers over the screen, my heart roaring in my ears. I swallow hard and tap it, waiting for the line to connect. It takes all the strength I have not to end the call before it does.
A female receptionist answers after one ring, well before I’m prepared to speak.
“North End Medical Center, how can I help you?”
Nausea slams into me, and the thought of hanging up crosses my mind but I force myself not to.
“Um, hi.” I clear my throat. “Doctor Wilson’s office referred me for some genetic testing. It should be under Seraphina Carter?”
“Hold please.” A moment later, she comes back on the line. “Yes, we have all your paperwork right here. Normally, we book a few weeks out, but we had a last-minute cancellation and there’s a spot available this morning. Would you be able to come in then?”
“Sure.” There is no part of me that wants to do this today, but something tells me if I don’t take the opening, I’m going to put it off forever. “What time?”
“Eleven-thirty. I realize that’s short notice. I can look at the next available appointment if that doesn’t work for you.”
Terror threads around my throat, and I force myself to reply. “That works.”
Two hours later, I’m sitting outside the testing center in my car on the verge of having a nervous breakdown. Even driving as slowly as the limits of safety and common courtesy would allow, I’m five minutes early. Some latent, self-destructive part of me was secretly hoping I’d be late and miss the appointment.