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
Celeste's POV: There are moments like when I'm painting and I want to replay them. There are moments like when I'm enjoying being with someone I care for and I want to pause it. Then there are moments like hearing the news of my Dad's death or seeing the look of betrayal on Plinio's face and I want to fast forward them. I want to escape the raw emotions it stirs inside me and get over the pain. I want to skip those moments and wake up like nothing happened. But I am hopeless and marooned by my own limbs and acuity. "Angel!" Kevin calls out to me from the living room. I place my brush on the palette and exit my room to go to him. He's been working on his assignment on my laptop since he hasn't been working. "
Plinio's POV: Sierra's headlights illuminate a meek figure on the side of the street. How much I wish not to see Celeste like that, but it is she. She is shaking while sitting on her knees. Halting my car, I hop out of the car and run to her side. Her shoulders heave up and down as she tries to calm her breathing. Her hair has fallen to her face but I know there are tears behind it. What must have happened? "Oh, Celeste," I slide away from her hair with my fingers. A reddish shade rests on her jaw. If I'm not hallucinating, then it is behind to swell too. My heart falls to the pit of my stomach and a gasp leaves my mouth. She glances at me through her tear-filled, piercing blue eyes. "Who did t
Thanks to the king-sized bed, we lie next to each other. My eyes are facing the ceiling with my hands behind my head and Celeste is probably awake too. The lights are off and only the moonlight seeping through the white curtains is dimly illuminating the room. Her rhythmic breathing and the chirping of crickets outside are in harmony with each other. "I was going to break up with Kevin even before Trevor told me about Kevin and Stella," she owns up in a hushed tone. "Even before Kevin did what he did." Yes, I wanted her to break up with Kevin for my selfish reasons but I wish she had broken up with him the very first time he hit her. I wish she had broken up with him for herself, for the care one must-have for one's body. I turn to look at her, putting my hands b
Plinio's POV: “Today marks our last therapy session, Mr. Murray,” my prison psychologist, Dr. Sean Evans, says with a hint of honor masked by his usual placid tone. “And you still can’t call me Plinio or Nio as I have asked you a hundred times already,” I smile, shaking my head. The first session was in the first week of my three-year sentence. I was handcuffed, and my legs were chained to the hooks on the floor. Two officers were standing outside, and one was behind my psychologist. In this very room, I was asked several questions to be diagnosed with any kind of mental illness. But, I was neither suicidal nor dangerous nor depressed; in fact, I was quite content, I still am. I have had the lowest number of sessions among all the inmates. And, now, no metal is holding me in place, and only one
Plinio's POV: Getting my battered face cleaned and bandaged has never been as painful as it is today. It is not only my swollen jaw and smashed lips that hurt; the heartbreak in Celeste’s eyes is more painful. Watching the raw emotions swimming in her moist blue eyes and seeing her shaky hands with which she puts a bandage across the cut on my forehead, I can’t fathom her answer to what I’ve told her about the upcoming situation. “Say something,” I hold her hand and make her sit on the bed beside me. She releases a wobbling breath, and her chest heaves as she places the cotton and the ointment on the bedside table. “Mary will hire a lawyer for you. She’ll bail you out too.” She gives my face a brief look, her eyes falling back to her lap two seconds earlier. “I don’t s
Plinio's POV: As I expected, gym Grandé is open, and Logan is sitting in his room. He is looking out the window with his phone pressed to his ear and his back facing me. He is completely unaware of my presence at the threshold of his room. I am making no sound to grab his attention either. His words to the person on the phone somewhat pique my interest. “Yes, you got that right. That’s exactly why he asked you not to send your son here anymore.” There’s silence, and Logan is nodding with his cheeks raised, giving space to one of his menacing smirks. There’s an unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I choose to ignore it. “I am sorry for everything that happened,” Logan lies. The Logan I have seen is never sorry. “Of course, I will send the video. Yes, see you soon.”
Plinio's POV: "You knew it, didn't you?" Hayley shouts, letting herself inside the apartment. Her hands are above her hips and her nose is constantly flaring. "You knew Logan's plan." Confusion takes over me and other than the sudden flip in the atmosphere, I hate the thing she's accusing me of. I don't even know what she's talking about and yet, here she is, barging at my apartment and shouting at me. "What's wrong, Hayley?" Celeste steps beside me, putting her hand on my shoulder. "This guy you're standing next to is wrong and his a***ole of a friend is the worst." She's better when shy, what's gotten into her today? "Can you please elaborate?" I maintain my cool despite my raging nerves.
Celeste's POV: "Kathy, meet Plinio." Her brows meet in the middle and her brown orbs flutter between me and Plinio. Her small warm hand is holding my hand and she blinks rapidly. I have no idea what is going on in her head. "She doesn't like me," Plinio states with dread beside us. He heaves a deep sigh and looks around the playground, shaking his left leg like he does when he's anxious. "Wait for a second, will you?" I crane my neck back at my sister. Though, it feels good to know that he wants my sister to like him. "What is he to you and why did you not c
His touch is intoxicating. Whenever his breath traces my skin, I feel like drowning. He's so full of love and care for me. And I still can't get enough. He has a way with words that play with the strings of my heart and then there's his cooking. That morning when he baked the cake for me reminded him of his mother a lot, I could see it in his eyes. But, he didn't let it stop him from doing what he loves. There's no reason why I can't love him because I do. Kevin's parents, Max and Rachel, have called me to their home. Plinio was adamant about going with me but there are some challenges I have to face alone. Now here I am, sitting in the lounge of my ex-boyfriend where Kevin and I talked about our dream college. I haven't heard from him for two weeks now. Our brea
It feels like some weight has lifted off my chest. I can talk about my mother and she can talk about her family. There is no more hiding between us. About our relationship, we are taking things slow. She says that she doesn't want me to think that I'm some rebound or anything. I doubt that I'm any of that. Our relationship is built on friendship and trust and even if I were a rebound, we would have had sex till now then. Kevin has called on Celeste's phone many times. But she switched it off. I'll probably land a lunch on his face if he comes in front of me. "Can I come inside today?" I ask Celeste, standing outside her house. We've come to take a few things that she'll need. Till her wounds heal, she's staying at my apartment, or even longer if she wants to.
Thanks to the king-sized bed, we lie next to each other. My eyes are facing the ceiling with my hands behind my head and Celeste is probably awake too. The lights are off and only the moonlight seeping through the white curtains is dimly illuminating the room. Her rhythmic breathing and the chirping of crickets outside are in harmony with each other. "I was going to break up with Kevin even before Trevor told me about Kevin and Stella," she owns up in a hushed tone. "Even before Kevin did what he did." Yes, I wanted her to break up with Kevin for my selfish reasons but I wish she had broken up with him the very first time he hit her. I wish she had broken up with him for herself, for the care one must-have for one's body. I turn to look at her, putting my hands b
Plinio's POV: Sierra's headlights illuminate a meek figure on the side of the street. How much I wish not to see Celeste like that, but it is she. She is shaking while sitting on her knees. Halting my car, I hop out of the car and run to her side. Her shoulders heave up and down as she tries to calm her breathing. Her hair has fallen to her face but I know there are tears behind it. What must have happened? "Oh, Celeste," I slide away from her hair with my fingers. A reddish shade rests on her jaw. If I'm not hallucinating, then it is behind to swell too. My heart falls to the pit of my stomach and a gasp leaves my mouth. She glances at me through her tear-filled, piercing blue eyes. "Who did t