Plinio's POV:
"Celeste, what was that?"
"Kevin's drunk and he just broke the glass that was on the table," her voice rushed and panicked.
"Where are you? Are you alone with him?" I press the phone closer to my ear and stare at my legs.
"I'm at my house," she says in an almost whisper. "Trevor is here too."
"Good," I nod even though she can't see me. "Now I want you to get out of there."
"What? No!" She doesn't sound satisfied herself or maybe it's my statement that surprised her.
"Celeste, Kevin is drunk, angry, and breaking
Celeste's POV: Fall in love. Why do we fall in love? Why do we not rise in love? To me, that phrase seems scary. It screams the inevitable pain of being heartbroken. Falling. It is guaranteeing that you'll suffer, you'll bleed, you'll be hurt but you'll be in love. Sounds wretched. Is love really worth it all, the pain and the pleasure? I fell in love with Kevin when I was 16. I didn't know what it meant. Now, I think it means to accept and appreciate the one you love, embrace their flaws and work together to be a better person. I stayed with Kevin at my house when he had a breakdown after he lost the match. He was drunk and angry. Plinio di
Plinio's POV:The primrose is dead. Its leaves have gone brown and withered. The once bright yellow flowers have fallen to the soil. I watered it regularly and the sunlight was enough. Heck, I even had my breakfast beside it. Maybe it's the change of environment or maybe I didn't take care of it properly. But it's dead.Celeste didn't let me throw it out. She asked me to check its stem. I told her it's still rigid and she told me to have some patience. Hence, the primrose is still on my table.Celeste is awfully stressed these days. She's not ignoring me or flunking algebra and is still laughing at my silly jokes but something feels off. She falls silent during our conversations earlier than usual and wanders off in her thoughts.
Plinio's POV: "That was freaking awesome!" Celeste squeals after the performance are over. "I didn't even know you can play guitar." I tell her that I bought it recently from the shop next door to the Coffee Canteen. Although I am pretty bad at it she says I'll excel with time. Whatever that means. "There's one more thing," I wiggle my eyebrows and take her inside the hall. "I'll have a heart attack at this rate, Plinio. What is it now?" She tugs at my arm as her eyes study the place another time. I don't answer her for obvious reasons, a surprise is a surprise. Then I find the woman I've been searching for, the in-charge of this cente
Plinio's POV: "I'm going to meet your Aunt!?" Celeste is freaking out again. "Right now? Plinio, are you in your senses?" "Celes -" "Don't Celeste me right now," she snaps. "Do you even realize how spontaneous this is? You can't just say 'let's go meet my Aunt' after we had a weird encounter with Darcy and an almost argument between us. Urgh, where did I put my bottle?" Apparently, the last part was for herself because she reaches for the bottle before I can and finishes it in a few sips. "Actually, you know what?" She throws the empty bottle in the back seat. "Let's go meet your Aunt."
Plinio's POV: Colorful clothes, awful wigs, fake accents disguised us just fine, but Aunt Mary's lovely opinions about every dress hanging in Poppy's boutique revealed everything. Poppy and Aunt Mary had a silent war then. They kept throwing daggers at each other with their scary eyes. It ended at Mary's final remark in which she mentioned some fashion show being held in summer. I have no idea what that is but Celeste says it is a fashion war where clothes are a weapon and the best designer wins on the basis of the audience's votes. Both Poppy and Mary lost last year. This year might make someone and break another. My whole body ached when I lay in bed later that night. I was happy that something good came out of it and Celeste will participate in that competition. But
Celeste's POV: It's been three days since I last saw Plinio. It was when he dropped me at ArtWorks Center and that's it. He isn't coming to school. He doesn't pick up my calls. He doesn't open the door of his apartment when I go. He responds to my messages though. He messaged that he's fine. I call it bullshit. My mind tells me to give him the space for whatever he's going through. We all feel like staying alone sometimes. But then my heart kicks in and urges me to have a look at his face and everything will be sorted out. We have been getting along really well for the past few weeks. Because of him, I have participated in that competition and I'm doing more than fine for its preparation accordin
Plinio's POV: "My son....just for him...filing a divorce." I remember hearing these words from my mother's mouth while I was hiding under the bed. Then she started screaming and after an intense quarrel, a gunshot ended everything. I thought she was going to leave me. How foolish I was! All I cared about was the fear to see my parents separating from each other. I should have seen that they were not together anymore already. My father's abuse had broken them miles apart. I should have stood by my mother and not stopped her from doing anything. A mother knows everything. She must have known my fear too. I have done so much wrong. Last night was the toughest of all. Not only Mom was on my mind, but Celeste was also dri
Plinio's POV: These incomplete pieces of information can kill me. It's not fair, I have the right to know everything and all at once. Therefore, I head to the Thompson mansion to confront Mr. Steve who is the root of everything. I was hoping for the housemaid, instead, Loraine opens the door. She is rubbing her eyes as she yawns and looks like she just woke up. "Where's Mr. Steve?" I ask her, stepping inside. "Upstairs," she points. "In his study room. Why?" I climb up the stairs, two at a time, and take hurried steps to his study on the left of the hallway. I barge inside and he jumps