Flat-Out Celeste (16 page)

Hours ticked by as Celeste lay still in her bed, her mind spinning. Justin had teased her. Maybe not intentionally, but he’d taunted her with the idea that maybe, just maybe, he could see beyond all of her strangeness. The things that she couldn’t control, but the ones that made up who she was. Even if he had, for a split second, liked her to some degree, he clearly had a college full of women with whom he could engage on normal social levels. Romantic levels. Probably sexual levels, if she was being realistic.

The bedroom darkened as the afternoon wore on. If she could just hold on, time would take her through the night, through the next day, the next week. This day and this awful misery would ease. Celeste knew how pain lessened with time. So she would just hold on. She would cease to exist until tomorrow, after the time for her date had come and gone. Then it would be easier.

Her room was virtually pitch black when she heard Matt’s voice. “Celeste? Are you in here?”

She didn’t bother to move. She couldn’t move anyway.

“Celeste?”

Through closed eyes, she saw the darkness lift a bit. He must have turned on the nightstand light. She felt him sit on the bed next to her. “Are you okay? What, do you have the flu or something else disgustingly gross and contagious? Do I need to begin a bloodletting routine or what?”

She wanted nothing more than for him to go away. As much as she loved her brother, he would not understand, and she was too embarrassed to tell him what was happening. Or to tell him who she really was: an utterly pathetic, despondent mess.

Matt put a hand on her shoulder and rolled her onto her back. She pulled away, and again he rolled her over. Celeste shoved him away, hard, and resumed her place on her side. She moved an arm over her eyes. “Leave me alone, Matthew.”

“Hey, what the hell’s going on?” He was angry now. Or maybe scared. Either way, she didn’t care.

“I forgot that you would be coming to the house today. Just. Go. Away.”

“Don’t yell at me because you slept through your date.”

“Get out of my room. Now.”

“No,” he said firmly. “No. You’re going to tell me what this all about. All I know is that I was downstairs happily gift wrapping and listening to One Direction sing a fanciful medley of uplifting Christmas carols when that Justin character shows up at the house, saying that he’s supposed to pick you up at seven.”

“You were not listening to One Direction.”

“Fine. It was Hillary Duff, but whatever. The point is that there is a dude in our front hall telling me that he’s been texting and calling you for hours, and you’re not answering. Are you supposed to go out with him?”

“Tell him to leave. I am not here.”

“Well, you
are
here.”

She didn’t respond. She could wait him out. He would give up and leave soon enough. Except that he didn’t. Ten minutes must have gone by when he said her name again. “Celeste. Please explain this to me.” She felt him shift on the bed. “I wish that you would let me do something. Do you want me to kick him out of the house? Did he do something to you?”

Another voice echoed in her room. Justin’s. “Maybe she’ll talk to me?”

Oh God, why had Matt even let him in the house?

“Do you want him to stay?” Matt asked.

Silence.

“Celeste.” Matt’s frustration was evident, but she simply had nothing to say. “I don’t know what to do here, so I’m going to have to give Justin a shot. Yell if you need anything.” His weight lifted from the bed. Knowing Matt, he was likely staring Justin down as he left the room. He might not be a typical alpha male, but Celeste knew that Matt was fiercely protective when it came to her.

Willing herself to become invisible was not working, it seemed, because she heard Justin cross the room and then felt him next to her. The sound of his footsteps even tugged at her heart. She felt him kneeling next to the bed. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all day,” he said softly.

This was an impossible situation. If she was lucky, he would give up on her, get back in his car, and vanish from her life altogether. It was the only way to recover from this.

“It took me six hours, but I finally realized that I texted you by mistake.”

Despite herself, she nodded.

“And you’re upset about that.”

She nodded again.

“I think you’re misunderstanding what you read. Will you let me explain?”

It was best to get this over with. She rubbed her eyes and turned to face him. It didn’t matter that he looked distraught because that meant nothing to her right now. “I understand, Justin. I understand very clearly.”

He moved a hand to her face and brushed the hair from her cheek. The sorrowful expression in his eyes made her feel worse. He felt sorry for her. “I don’t think you do.”

“I understand that having a girl in your room during early morning hours—”

“No,” he said cutting her off. “No. It’s not what you think it is. Michelle is my roommate Kevin’s girlfriend. We live in a tiny dorm suite, and we each have our own miniature bedroom and a small common room. She slept in Kevin’s room that night. I was just going to give her a ride to the airport. Yes, she’s a friend of mine, but that’s it. I met her on the first day of college last year, and we’ve been friends ever since I stopped her from taking one too many vodka shots and saved us all from having to listen to ‘Don’t Rain On My Parade’ for the ninety-seventh time.”

Celeste sniffed. “I dislike that song.”

He smiled and touched a finger to her wet cheek. “Don’t cry. Please. You don’t have to hear it ever again.”

Celeste couldn’t smile back.

“Do you want to know a secret?” he whispered.

“Okay.”

“Your brother really
was
listening to One Direction.”

“He was not.” But now she did smile just a bit.

“Oh, but he was. And I think I saw him dancing a little. It was subtle, but there was some foot tapping and a few shoulder shakes.” Now he took both hands and rubbed his thumbs under her eyes. “Please don’t cry.”

“I do not think this is going to work out, Justin. I appreciate how kind you are being, but you should not have come here.”

He shook his head. “Why would you say that? You understand now, right? That the texts were nothing.”

“I do. But that does not change the inherent problem present. Even if Michelle is solely a platonic friend—”

“She
is,
” he insisted.

“Even then, I was reminded today that you are immersed in a crowd of young women, all of whom likely possesses much more typically alluring traits than I.”

“Celeste,” he said, “you are beautiful.”

“Perhaps physically, by cultural norms. But that only serves to make the non-physical parts of me even more unsuitable.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I am not like other girls. I recognize that, and I understand that my traits are incompatible with what is traditionally desirable in a romantic partner. I cannot compete. That is all. I will never be regular.”

Justin looked around the room as if searching for how to handle her. Then he rose from his kneeling crouch and stretched out on the bed, resting on his side next to her so that they were eye to eye. He took her hands in his. “You listen to me, okay? Listen. Yes, are you are a beautiful girl. Stunning, really. Anyone can see that. But that doesn’t really mean anything to me. I see past your beauty, and I find more beauty. The important kind. Don’t you know that? I’m doing something wrong if you don’t, so let me be really clear here.” Justin lifted her hands a bit and delicately kissed her fingers.

She could hardly breathe.

He looked at her again. “I am staggered by you. I am intoxicated by you. I think about you way more than I should. I want to get to know you as much as possible, but you have to let me. I mean, if that’s what you want. Maybe you think I’m a huge jerk, and maybe you’re done with me. So tell me that if you need to.” He kissed her hands again and peeked up at her, his eyes sparkling. “But please don’t, because I desperately want to take you out tonight.”

Celeste was sure that he could hear her heartbeat. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. But I’m afraid that I do not look very nice.”

“You could wear a garbage bag, and I wouldn’t mind a bit.”

“I was not going to wear a garbage bag. Or this plain white shirt. I was going to wear a pink sweater.”

Justin eased himself to sitting. “Then let’s get your pink sweater.” He looked behind him. “Closet or dresser?”

“Closet.”

He squeezed her hands and let them go, getting up and going to her closet. He returned in a moment with her sweater. “This one?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Justin slid a hand under her back and gently pulled her to a sitting position. She watched him, mesmerized, as he lifted up the sweater, lowered it over her head, and then smoothed out the fabric as she eased her arms into the sleeves. He took one of her hands back into his. “You look very sad today.”

“I am sorry. I am not an easy person.”

He pointed back and forth between them. “Pot, kettle.” He winked. “Are you sad just because of me, or is there something else?”

Celeste thought for a moment. “I am sad because of me. I am embarrassed.”

“Tell me why.”

Celeste dropped her head while she spoke. “I am embarrassed because things that are easy for other people are challenging for me. Going on a date with you should not be as monumentally terrifying as it is.”

“What can I do to make you feel better?”

Celeste had no idea. She looked at him, helpless.

“Would it help if I told you that there is no pressure here? We’re just going to go out and have a good time. Neither of us gets to have performance anxiety, okay? We don’t. If at any point tonight you decide that you want to go home, I’ll take you home. That’s it. I won’t be angry, or think less of you, or anything. Deal? I’m humbled that you would let me take you out when, as you said, this feels hard for you.”

“It is not your fault. I have issues centered around loss. Perceived abandonment. Solitude, which I both crave and detest. It’s too much to explain.”

Justin looked down and thought for a moment. “I saw a picture downstairs while I was waiting for you. In the front hall. It’s a picture of you and Matt…”

She finished the sentence for him. “And Finn.”

“A second brother.”

“Yes,” she said. “Older than Matthew. He died when I was much younger. I did not handle his death well. Nobody did. It is my assessment that my personality type, coupled with a high level of family dysfunction and a mother with unmanaged depression at the time, was not adequate to cope with losing Finn.” She couldn’t tell him about Flat Finn. Not now, not ever. It would be the ultimate deal breaker, revealing that she had relied on a cardboard copy of her brother to get her through even the most basic basics of daily life for almost two years. She could only expect a certain degree of understanding and tolerance, and Justin had already gone above and beyond. “Finn was my savior, and then he was dead. Some days the aftershocks can still be felt.”

“We all have aftershocks.” Justin stood up, pulling Celeste with him, and bringing her into his chest. She tucked her arms up between them, letting him hold her.

“It feels as though I must work very hard for everything. It’s not easy.”

“You’re in a war.”

It was a painfully accurate way to describe her state. “I am.”

“I understand that. There are battles, some greater than others. But they are worth getting through.” He held her tighter. “This is the fight, Celeste. You’re in the middle of it. I feel that.”

“Because you have endured your own?”

“Yes. I got through mine, and you will get through yours.”

QUITE BEGUILED

CELESTE COULD STAY wrapped in Justin’s arms forever, but eventually he pulled back a bit and lifted her face to his. “You ready to go?”

“You still want to take me out?”

“I want to take you out more now.”

“Because you feel sorry for me that I have a dead brother and formerly crazy parents?”

He laughed. “No. Because I like that you shared something with me. I feel closer to you. Don’t you feel closer to me?”

Celeste studied his face. “You often surprise me with your candor.”

Justin shrugged. “I spent a few years in therapy. I learned that I like being truthful.”

“I, too, have been in therapy. It was helpful in many ways, but it did not change who I am at the core.”

“That’s a relief.” Justin jostled her shoulders and then slid one arm behind her neck. “Let’s go to dinner, and you can tell me about it.”

She stopped them at the top of the stairs. “Justi
n? Thank you for being so kind to me, tonight and all of the times we have communicated. Quite often my experiences with being myself have resulted in rejection by others. I have tried to change who I am so that the average person will accept me, but that has not met with much success.”

“Did that red hair and bodysuit thing have anything to do with that?”

“Perhaps. And perhaps, I will also tell you about that over dinner.” She led the way downstairs, and even though the stairs creaked like crazy, she did not miss the sound of Matt scrambling off the lower risers into the dining room.

“IT’S BEGINNING TO LOOK A LOT LIKE CHRISTMAS!” he half-sang, half-shouted. “If Christmas looks like mangled paper and shredded ribbons.”

“Matty?” Celeste stepped through the archway to where Matt was poised over a mound of crumpled snowman paper.

“Oh, hey, didn’t see you there.”

“You are not a good actor, Matthew, but I appreciate your effort to act as though I did not treat you atrociously earlier tonight.”

“What? Nah, don’t worry about. What you should worry about is whether or not I go insane and hurl all of this gift-wrapping nonsense into the fireplace.”

Celeste walked to her brother. “Matthew.”

“Fine, fine, I won’t burn it all. I’ll save the roll that has the naked Mrs. Clauses.”

“That is Dad’s favorite.” She touched Matt’s arm. “I should not have yelled at you the way I did. You were trying to help.”

Matt refused to look at her and continued to fuss with trying to curl a ribbon. “I didn’t do a good job, did I?”