“Oh!” she said, unstrapping her phone from around her bicep. “I almost forgot. Do you mind if I take a photo of us for my Instagram?”

“Oh god, I dunno,” I said. “I don’t exactly have the best track record on Instagram.”

“I saw.” She laughed knowingly. “But social media and influencing is literally my job.”

She opened up her phone and began scrolling through her feed. “I have to photograph my outfits every day. I have this hashtag called #SerenaStyle, and basically it’s become this whole thing.”

“How so?” I asked. It wasn’t like I didn’t get how Instagram worked, but I’d found that people used the phrase “whole thing” to describe, well, lots of very different things.

“I just have this specific pose, and now people copy it and do their own SerenaStyle shoots. Look.”

And, sure enough, there was photo after photo of people jumping in the air, all tagged back to her.

“Come on.” She waved me over with a massive grin. “It’ll just be in my Stories. Just a shot of our sneakers.”

She snapped the photo and pocketed her phone; then she leaned forward for a stretch, crossing her legs and bending at the waist, letting her hands touch the ground. “Would you wanna go grab a drink?” she asked, not turning to look at me. “I know a place with killer burgers and cheap beer.”

“Yeah, sure.” I crossed an arm in front of my chest to stretch it. I could go for some dinner, and I was genuinely interested in getting to know her better.

She stood up and smiled at me, and I smiled back, because after weeks of not quite feeling like myself, it felt like I was finally on my way back to the old Hayes.

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Franny

My alarm went off the next morning, yanking me out of a dream. I’d been in Florida, riding on the back of a motorcycle with Hayes, and I was also working in a circus. It was ridiculous, but it had all made sense while I was sleeping. And the sensation of my arms around his waist, muscular and hard through his T-shirt, had felt incredibly real. I cursed as I yanked my eye mask up, mad that I could no longer feel his body against mine.

As usual, I reached for my phone the minute my eyes cracked open, and I saw a notification that I’d gotten a new email overnight. From the circus perhaps?

No, not the circus.

From: DNADiscovery.com
Subject: Your Results Are In!

“Oh my god,” I said out loud, opening the email with frantic, nervous fingers.

Hello, Francesca Doyle! Your results are in. Log in below to discover your ancestry, explore your health history, and trace your roots.

I clicked, and the site popped up, my log-in information saved and ready for this very moment.

Welcome, Francesca! You are:

10% Scottish

40% Irish

50% Southern Italian