Come What May - L.K. Farlow Page 0,39
yours?”
“Second door on the right,” she sniffles.
I carry her down the narrow hall and into her bedroom. It’s small and cheery—completely her. Seraphine clings to me as I maneuver us down onto the cramped mattress so I’m propped against the headboard and she’s tucked into my side.
“Talk to me,” I tell her, brushing her hair away from her face. “Tell me what is wrong.”
“Everything is… just… too much.”
Sensing she isn’t ready to talk, I pull her closer and press a kiss to the top of her head.
After a lengthy pause, she speaks. “It’s just everything, ya know? My whole life is upside down. I don’t know left from right anymore. I don’t even know myself anymore.” Her voice cracks at the end as raw emotion pours out of her.
Gently, I tilt her face up to mine and drop a chaste kiss to her salty, tear-stained lips.
“And then there’s you!”
“Me?”
“Yes! You come out of nowhere and save me over and over like I’m a damsel and you’re a freaking knight.”
“I wouldn’t say out of nowhere. Let’s be honest, we’ve been dancing around each other for a few years now.”
“Exactly!” She shrugs out of my hold and sits up. “We went from whatever you just said, this weird holding pattern. You want me, but no—I’m forbidden! You kiss me and then say it won’t happen again. Spoiler alert: it did. And then you introduce me to your family like I’m your freaking girlfriend and your mom has our nonexistent future baby’s name picked out.”
Her shoulders slump. “It’s too much, Mateo. It’s just too much.”
I’m overwhelmed with this deep urge to touch her—to comfort her. Taking her hand in mine, I ask, “How can I help?”
She tugs her hand away. “I think we need boundaries.”
I cock my head to the side. “How so?”
“No touching or kissing or flirting. Just friends. Nothing more.”
I know I should agree to her terms and be done with it, but I… can’t. The caveman inside of me is shouting for me to lay claim to her. Which is how I find myself countering with, “Or, you could let me take you out? On a date.”
“Are you serious right now?” She shakes her head. “You’re only asking me out because I told you that you couldn’t.”
Sitting up, I brush my knuckles over the apple of her cheek. “Don’t you get it? I’m not asking you because you told me not to; I’m asking you because the thought of going without you is torture. You consume my thoughts, day and night, and I know if I don’t at least try to see what this is between us, I’ll never forgive myself. So, please, Seraphine. Please let me take you out?”
Her eyes fill with tears again, and I worry I’ve ruined us before we could even have a chance. Until she nods and whispers a teary, “Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yeah, Mateo, you can take me out.”
“You won’t regret it,” I murmur before kissing her again.
Chapter Eighteen
Seraphine
“Okay, wait. Tell us again,” Azalea demands as she leans back into her chair at Dream Beans.
“I’ve told you three times!”
Myla Rose nudges me with her shoulder. “C’mon. One more time?”
I cover my face with my hands and groan. “Have you three always been so annoying?”
Magnolia laughs. “You were just as annoying when Simon was courting me.”
“Oh my God!” I crack up. “You did not just say ‘courting!’”
My cousin blushes something fierce. “Whatever. You know what I mean.”
All three of my friends look back at me with wide, expectant eyes. “Fine! But I need a refill to get through this. And maybe a slice of pumpkin bread.”
I push back from the table and mosey over to the counter, taking my sweet time. I even let two other patrons cut in front of me.
After I receive my order, I take the long way back to the table. I know I’m being a snot, but they are, too, so I guess we’re even.
My butt isn’t even in the seat before Azalea’s on me. “Spill—and I mean the tea, not your coffee.”
“I was upset, well, more like overwhelmed, and overslept. I planned on calling in anyway, because the thought of facing him after his mom asked if I wanted kids was mortifying. But he showed up at the house and we talked and I told him we should just be friends.”
“And then he laid one on you and asked you out?” Azalea’s voice has a dream-like quality to it.
“Yup.”
“So romantic,” Magnolia murmurs into her mug before looking up at me. “When is