I Can't Get Up

Chapter Twenty-Three: Project Dreleste

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Chapter Twenty-Three: Project Dreleste

Hallie's POV

It's been a week since I tried to be the bigger person and apologize to Celeste, but no. She had to ruin a good apology with her huge ego.

There's no way she'll forgive me and I can go back to being guilt free if I just apologize. She probably wants me to throw an 'I'm sorry' parade for her, but I don't have the energy nor money to do that, so I thought of a simpler solution. I took a week, but I'm certain that this'll work.

Celeste is so predictable. I know that she puts her purse right outside of the door, so when she came over a few days ago, I jumped at the chance to flip through her address book without her knowing. Luckily for me on her address book, it shows type of relationship.

I flipped through every darn page in that book until I found someone named 'Adrianna' whose area code leads to where Celeste spent her high school years. It's a risk because I'm not for sure that she knows Drew, but in the end, at least I can say I tried.

If you haven't guessed my plan, you're an idiot. I'm planning to re-unite the couple I broke up.

"Would you like a bag of pretzels dear?" the flight attendant smiles at me.

To put my plan in action, I decide that a simple phone call won't do, so I ultimately think of a trip to visit Adrianna. I have nothing better to do anyways. That's the reason I am on a three-hour flight.

I shake my head at the lady, "Do you have anything to drink? Like a bottle of beer?"

The lady gives me a dirty eye, "This is a plane, not a bar."

I cross my arms over my chest and try not to take what she said too hard. The boy beside me chuckles at my reaction, which makes me angrier. This is how I got myself into the whole Celeste problem. Anger, anger and more anger cause me to not be myself. Instead of threatening to kill the boy beside me, I take deep breaths. In and out. In and out.

"You know that I agree," the boy says after a while of silence. I turn my head slowly around to meet his eyes. He's younger than me, but not by much and he certainly has this arrogance about him that make me want to punch his face.

I turn my head back to face the seat in front of me, "Agree with what?"

He chuckles, "With you."

Is he flirting? The nerve of guys these days.

"What do you mean?" I sound cross, but the blush I slowly forming on my cheeks. Thank god that the airplane lights are dim.

"I agree with what you said. We should have beer on planes. How else are the people who have to go across the world survive long hours on this squished place? I would love to have a can or two in my trip to China," he doesn't stop staring at me, which creeps me out.

Why would he be going to China? I don't think he's from there.

I face him, "Why are you going to China?"

The boy doesn't answer for a while. I'm beginning to think that the question was too personal when he speaks, "I'm in a program to help feed bamboo to the pandas. I go every year. It's totally fun."

Feeding pandas is about as fun as watching paint dry, but clearly not everyone thinks that.

"Sounds... great," I pretend to be enthusiastic for his sake, "The pandas are lucky to have someone feed them. They don't have to worry about lifting the bamboo to their mouths, all they have to do is bite down and voila."