"You."

Her brow furrowed. "Me? How?"

"I guess all your talk these past few decades about these humans and helping them finally got to me," he replied. "I was in this town the other day, trailing a demon inside of a school teacher, when I overheard a boy named Nicholas say he wanted to take a girl named Samantha to the prom. Samantha liked Nicholas, but they were both too shy to even say hello."

Serah raised her eyebrows. "So you introduced them?"

"You could say that," he said. "I manifested for a split second and physically shoved the two of them together in the hallway. She dropped her books, he picked them up, and voila . . . they’re dancing right behind you."

Serah turned around, so close she could practically touch the couple. They swayed to the music, his hands on her hips, her arms around his shoulders as she gently fiddled with the hair at the nape of his neck. Their eyes connected, something strong stirring in them, something pure and Heavenly.

Love.

A smile tugged Serah’s lips. "You did good, brother."

"I’m not done yet," he said quietly. "You see that Archangel over there, attached to the wall? Go ask him to dance."

Serah turned back to her brother. "What? No way!"

"Why not?"

She lowered her voice to a quiet hiss. "He’s the prince, Samuel."

"He’s just an angel—an angel that has absolutely no interest in dances, or human customs, or blending in, or micromanaging, but I have it on good authority that there’s nowhere in the universe he’d rather be than this room."

"Why?"

"Because this is where you are, Ser."

She blinked rapidly, stunned by those words. "But he’s Michael. He’s. . ."

"He’s smitten, is what he is," Samuel said. "Come on, sis. Look at him. He watches you the way Nicholas watched Samantha. Give him a chance. Don’t make me physically push you, too. Because I will. And you know it."

"Fine." She flitted across the room. Michael stood up straighter as she approached, his shoulders squared, eyes never leaving her. "Do you, uh . . . you wouldn’t want to dance with me, would you?"

A strong, emphatic "No" came from his lips before she could completely finish her question. She huffed, ruffled by the rejection, and started to walk away when he grabbed her hand. "I’d love to do anything else with you, Serah—absolutely anything—but I’m afraid dancing is out of my skill set."

A smile graced her lips. "We can do something else."

"Wonderful."

Michael returned her smile as Samuel laughed across the room.

"See?" he called. "What did I tell you? Totally bitchin’ night."

The old sidewalk weaved around the school playground, buckled where a tree's roots had pushed underneath it, creating a fractured hump. The pavement was cracked down the center, a group of dandelions jutting out of the jagged fault line.

Serah reached down and plucked one. "Do you consider a dandelion a flower or a weed?"

"Both," Hannah replied. "It's a flowering weed."

"It's beautiful for being such a pest, don’t you think?"

Hannah laughed. "It's more beneficial than it is annoying. It's edible, nutritional, medicinal—people judge it by its overbearing nature, not taking into account it serves a bigger purpose." She paused, shrugging, and added as an afterthought, "Yeah, it’s beautiful, I guess."

Serah stared at the dandelion for a moment before placing her thumb below the blossom and popping the top off from the stem. She laughed as it flew into the air and dropped to the sidewalk, rolling right back into the crack.

Hannah frowned at the destroyed plant. "What was that point in that?"

"It's a game kids play," Serah said. "Mama had a baby and her head popped off."

Hannah gaped at her. "What?"

"It's what they say when they pop the head off a dandelion."

"How morbid."

"It's more silliness."

Hannah sighed, shaking her head. "I have to get back to work. Try not to kill too many plants while I'm gone, okay? Just makes my work harder."

Serah remained there after her friend disappeared, gazing across the busy street at the dilapidated community center. It had closed a few years before, the city no longer able to afford to fund it. She hadn't been inside since that May night in 1989—a night that had changed her universe in so many ways.

A bell rang, the shrill sound pulsating through the air as the elementary school let out for the day. Serah stayed still as the children rushed past on their way home. Nicki Lauer pranced by, hand in hand with her best friend, the two young girls pausing beside the overgrown tree.

Nicki reached down, snatching the remaining dandelions from the crack, roots and all. Damp soil trickled onto the sidewalk by Serah’s feet. "I'm gonna give these to my mommy!" Nicki squealed excitedly.

After the kids were gone, skipping away, Serah ventured down below, strolling unhurriedly toward the gate. Lucifer lingered on the other side, already waiting, expecting her arrival as usual.

"You smell like more flowers," he said. "They're not still leaving them for you, are they? I've called them off, but demons tend to be slow on the uptake. Idiots, really."

"No, they've stopped," she said. "Pity, though."