We Give Our Hearts to Fate

Chapter 13: Celeste

Slamming the door of my apartment closed behind me, I stand in my entryway, too numb to even kick off my shoes. Eventually, I get the motivation to shift my arm, allowing my purse to clang to the floor.

I feel a stiffness to my face and, tracking snow and city streets through my home, I run straight to my bedroom, face-planting into my comforter. The blankets get damper and damper as the sadness leaks out of my eyes.

"Stupid... stupid...." I murmur to myself. I can't believe I thought that.... I actually thought that things had changed. I'm so stupid to think that she would ever want me. She's hated me all these years because I tried to ask her out at a dumb party and I just ruined our friendship completely by trying to kiss her. I really never learn, do I? I'm such an idiot....

I tangle my hands in my hair, pulling at the strands as if in retribution. Maybe I'll just lay here forever. It's better than facing Marina. And suddenly, I feel a jolt in my chest.

Will I actually see Marina again? If she doesn't come to practices or go to the shows, I'll never see her. And, if she does come, what am I going to do when the shows are over? Will I ever see her again? If I do, how long will I have to be without her? Does she actually think of me as a friend or will she stop talking to me as soon as she can? I can't stand how unsure I am.

What am I gonna do?

* * *

At practice the next day, I'm incredibly distracted. Marina's there, discharged from the hospital with a pair of crutches. She's helping her stand-in clean up her form, but the Russian woman is always at the corner of my eye, as if she's taunting me on purpose.

I haven't said a word to her this whole time and I'm not sure if I should. Are we even still friends?

Sighing after another failed attempt at perfecting a leap, I take a break to go hide in the bathroom. For a while, I just stand rigidly in front of the mirror, analyzing everything that Marina probably hates about me. Hell, does she even like girls? I mean, I usually have a pretty good sense of these things, but I don't even know anymore.

When I hear the restroom door open, I pretend to be drying my hands again. The person behind me clears her throat and asks nonchalantly, "You wanna hold my crutches?" Whipping around, I see Marina leaning on her supports a few feet away from me.

"Uh," I say dumbly, "Sure." Marina limps over to a stall and then shoves her crutches at me, hopping inside on her good leg. Smirking at my confused expression, the injured ballerina closes the stall door in my face.

Awkwardly, I stand by Marina's stall until she hops out and I hold out her crutches for her to take. Yet, she ignores me and hops over to the sink, washing and drying her hands. Then, finally she holds her arms out and makes grabby motions with her fingers. I hastily pass my burden off to her and she offers me the same smirk as before.

I cross my arms over my chest and avoid the blonde's gaze, feeling awkward and exposed for some reason. Is she waiting for me to say something? Should I say something?

Startling me out of my brooding, I feel something prodding at my ankle. Looking down, I see that Marina has whacked me with her crutch in order to get my attention. Looking back up at her face, I see that she's lost all of her amusement and fear grips my throat.

"You," Marina scolds, pointing her finger at me, "Had better not be avoiding me because you pity me for being injured." Rapidly shaking my head, I deny her claims, "No, no, of course not! I just... thought you were... mad at me." Leaning back with eyebrows raised, Marina asks, "Why in the world would I be mad at you?" I just shrug in response and look at my feet, relief coursing through me in dizzying waves. She didn't even seem to notice that I was about to kiss her at the hospital.

"At any rate," Marina continues, "We should probably get back to practice instead of having a conversation in the women's restroom." Choking out a laugh I respond, "Yeah, that'd probably be best." I gesture to the door, indicating that Marina can go first.

She starts hobbling to the exit and I stand still, watching her go. Then, suddenly, it feels as if a spirit takes over my body, forcing words out of my mouth, "Hey, Marina, why don't we walk home together? I'd feel better knowing you got there safely." In answer, Marina smiles at me in a way that stops my heart and says, "Sure! That'd probably be the best. Milo was going to walk me home, but my apartment is so out of the way that I'd feel bad. Thanks." Then, she walks out the door, blonde hair flowing and disappearing behind the wall.

For a while, I just stand there, blushing like a twelve year old. God, I really am hopeless.

* * *

When ballet practice ends, I bundle up in my thick coat and scarf and wait for Marina by the exit to the dance studio. After a few minutes, the blonde girl arrives, looking incredibly small as her winter coat swallows her. Throwing what I hope is a charming smile onto my face, I ask jovially, "Ready to go?" She smiles and nods definitively, her hair bouncing forwards slightly.

I hold the door open for the Russian girl and, together, we walk down a dark and snow-covered street, mostly deserted and lit only by streetlights. Luckily, the snow isn't too thick, so I'm not that afraid that Marina will slip and fall. Still, that doesn't mean I shouldn't be on guard in case she starts to topple.

We continue in silence for a few moments before I blurt out, "For a while, I used to live in the countryside. Sadly, the one thing that New York doesn't have is stars. There're too many lights from the city to see them." I quickly shut my mouth before I spew out something even more embarrassingly random.

"I think," Marina says beside me, so I turn to watch her as she stares at the sky, "It's pretty easy to see the stars in New York. They just outshine the ones in the sky." Then, the warm summer days of her eyes are turned on me and, for just a moment, I entertain the silly idea that she's referring to me. Instead of letting myself get too sentimental, I smirk down at Marina and comment, "You know, I never thought you'd be one for cheesy romantic lines."

Shrugging as much as she can with her crutches, Marina smirks back at me and replies, "I thought you'd appreciate some sappiness, Frenchie." We both chuckle softly at that and this time, when we lapse into silence, it feels comfortable. As easy as breathing.

We say our goodbyes under a the harsh glow of a streetlamp and I practically skip home, dancing out of my winter gear and tumbling onto my sofa, letting myself giggle dreamily and wiggle my toes happily. Soon, I'll remember that she doesn't care about me the same way I care about her, but, for right now, I can bask in a snow-covered dream, can't I?

_____________________________________________________

A/N:

Soooo, romance will start soon, so that's good. I've got the story planned through them officially becoming a couple and then I've got nothing, so we shall see.

Also, fyi, Marina and Celeste speak English together simply because the setting is in America and it's often learned as a second language throughout the world. Marina is more fluent than Celeste because Marina has spoken with Milo in English before, even though he can speak Russian. Just thought I'd let ya know because I make it seem like both girls speak very fluent English and use a lot of slang and I just wanted to tell you that that's literally because I have no idea how to write broken English and still get my point across.

Well, now you've an explanation for no reason; how lucky you are.