Plinio's POV:
Could I have hidden and not run with Celeste?
Of course not. But she said I had a choice and according to her I made the decision to take the risk. If it's possible to rewind the day to where she knocked down the thief, I would still grab her hand and do the same thing again. And again.
I can, and I always will take the risk for Celeste.
But how can there be a choice every single time? It is bound to run out one way or another.
For starters, when Ryder passed that nasty remark about me and I beat him to a pulp, going to the detention center after that, could I not keep walking and just ignore him?
Or that
Celeste's POV: "I lost the match, Celeste. I lost and I'm not sad about it." "What match?" I ask Plinio, pulling the phone to my other ear and looking out of the dirty window of the taxi. "I am so happy that I could jump if I had the energy to. Ow!" "Why are you happy and in pain too? Plinio?" I exclaim through the phone. This boy will drive me insane. "And where are you?" "So many questions, Celeste," he laughs. "I'll be found in my bed for a few days now." "Plinio, you didnotget into another fight, right?" I ask only to receive a guilty silence from the other side. "I'll be at your place in ten mi
Plinio's POV:I don't remember the last time someone made soup for me or stayed beside me or listened to me talk till I slept.I want to believe Celeste in all that she says about hope, second chances, and everything else she told me last night. But when I look at myself in the mirror and look at the reflection of my eyes, I see everything I've done wrong and everything that I could have done differently. Now there's no going back.I am rubbing the hard-boiled egg on the swellings and it's actually soothing. Better than ice even. It has just approved my opinion of never negating Celeste's idea. She is so f*cking nice to me it hurts. She had left a note for me on my study table."Just keep breathing," it reads.
Celeste's POV: I don't know much about others but my brain definitely works in the most bizarre ways. Plinio's gaze has been lingering at me, longer than it does, making me elated, intoxicated even and I shouldn't be feeling this way but why on Earth was I on the verge of telling him about Kathy? I don't want to be called a liar when I'm told that it's necessary to hide the truth. I don't want to face the looks of sympathy or insult once the illusion I've created is shattered. I have to keep up with this act and this sudden attraction for Plinio which is uncalled for, and most probably a spur-of-the-moment attraction, I have to get over it. I have Kevin and he loves me and I... I love him too. I agree that Kevin and I ha
Plinio's POV: "I think you should talk to Ryder," suggests Celeste. "It will do good to you." Good to me? Some talk can't erase what I've done. Making me feel good is far from it. It is easier for Celeste to propose such heavy words because she doesn't know what I've done and how horrible I am. "Just talking won't help me sleep at night," I tell her, taking a bite of my cheese sandwich. Since Kevin is with his coach and I'm ignoring Logan, the two of us are sitting together in the cafeteria. "You don't know that yet," she replies, her eyes on the untouched tray in front of her. She has told me that she doesn't have an appetite today. "Don't get me wrong," she looks cautious of me, "why did you beat him in the first place?"
"What?" I stop short and furrow my eyebrows. "I don't hear anything." Celeste puts her finger on her lips and then cups her ears. There can't be any wild animals here. It could be just a dog but I highly doubt that and I'm not in the mood to run. Her stun pen won't work on any animal either. Wait, I do hear it. "Is there a stream near us?" I question and walk towards the source. Celeste follows behind. "Yes," she grins. "I read it online. Some streams and lakes branch out from the river Conemaugh. And, fortunately, we might be near one." "No way!" There is a damn stream flowing through mossy stones in front of our eyes. It's not deep, just a little way below our knees I think. The water is the shade of mud lying undernea
Celeste's POV: Sometimes I think it is easier to prefer one thing over the other when we see in either black or white. The grey can complicate things. Plinio can either realize his mistakes or wallow in its aftermath, either take shit from Logan or ignore him completely, either apologize to Ryder genuinely or break his bones when he pisses him off, either be adamant to know my truth and break hearts or be satisfied with what I tell, either be my friends within limits or kiss me. I would have kissed him if there were no greys. Both of us would have regretted it later because I have a boyfriend and he is just confused. To help him clear his confusion, I leave for school with Kevin earlier and go straight to the art room. Whatever opinion Mrs. Hannah or an
I take Forman to an empty room where I can be alone with him.I try to contain my raging nerves after seeing Forman at the gym. I control it in the best possible way I can. He flinches under my touch. Pressing my lips together, I withdraw my hand and close the door behind me.“Go away, Forman! Why do you even come here? Go away and never come back!”He is scared of me and it's natural. I abused him. And that's why I don't understand why he shows up here. He should be complaining against me, doing everything he can to make sure I never touch him again.“Dad doesn't listen to me," he mumbles, standing at a safe distance from me. It's hard to grasp why a father won't listen to his son. But who a
Celeste's POV:Perspective changes everything. Love can be turned to hate, happiness can be just an illusion, the truth can be just behind a thick veil of lies.Mr. Harrison told me nothing about Joshua Stevens. Either he did not know or he did not want to tell me. I'm choosing the former because if he had skipped such an important part, he wouldn't be holding onto that regret.Hearing what Plinio has told me combined with what Mr. Harrison has told me, something doesn't feel right."What are you gonna do now?" I ask Plinio, who just got out of the bathroom.He stops rubbing the towel over his wet hair and looks at me with his slightly curved creased in the middle. "What?""I mean," I pour espresso that I