Deal With The Devil

Chapter 22

Javier's POV

Celeste's lips were soft against my own and tasted like coconut milk. I'd come to know so much about her in the past few days and felt a little guilty that she knew only the good stuff and the fact that I struggled with depression. I felt dishonest for keeping the truth about why I struggled with depression from her. I had to tell her eventually, but I was scared. The only reason I told Tyler was because I was drunk and the memories were too overwhelming. It just came out like word vomit and then actual vomit afterwards. Maybe if we got a little drunk I could tell her. I pulled away from her kiss so we could catch our breath.

"Why don't you stay here with me for a while?" I asked, "I don't wanna go home."

"Okay, I'd like that." She smiled, "Let's go to the beach though. I don't wanna stay here."

I nodded, "Okay, do you want to go swimming? I don't have a swim suit on me."

"No, it's not warm enough to swim. Let's just walk on the beach." She suggested.

"Okay, let's go." I shrugged.

I started the car and drove down to the beach. I'd only ever been to the beach a handful of times over the summer with Tyler so Celeste had to give me directions on her phone. As we got out wind blew Celeste's hair back. I laughed because it reminded me of La Rosa De Guadalupe.

"What?" She said with a smile.

"Nothing, your hair blowing back just reminded me of a soap opera my mom watches." I explained.

"Damn, I was hoping I'd remind you of like those models that walk down the runway with their hair blowing." She liked, strutting towards the beach like a model.

I laughed and grabbed her hand as we walked down the beach, leaving our shoes behind in the car. The waves lapped at the shore and the sun beat down on us, trying to keep us warm through the fresh breeze. The warm sand felt really good between my toes as we walked down the beach. There weren't many people there in the sand with us. Like Celeste said, it was too cold to swim.

"We should come back on a warmer day so we can go swimming." Celeste suggested.

"I'd like that." I agreed.

We started to walk down the beach in slilence. Sometimes silence felt good, comforting, but I was dying to talk to Celeste, to get to know her better and see if she could crack through my thick shell.

"So your last name is Arias, are you Hispanic?" I asked her.

I'd been wondering for a while. I'd only ever met Hispanic people with that last name.

"No, not that I know of. My mom said my dad was white. Her last name is Harold and my dad's was Fisterra and she didn't want to give me his last name but thought hers didn't sound right with Celeste so she gave me a random last name." She explained.

"You know, white people can be hispanic. There's black Hispanic people, indigenous Hispanics, and white Hispanics. Hell, most Hispanic actors look white. Fisterra sounds Spanish. Like from Spain." I told her.

She shrugged, "Could be. I don't know many details about him other than he left and his name."

"You ever try looking him up?" I asked her.

"Nah, I don't need him." She shook her head.

I wondered what it was like to grow up with one parent. I couldn't imagine. Both of my parents were such a big part of my life. My mom who always knew what to say and listened to understand, not to respond. My dad who cooked every delicious meal and motivated me to do my best and take care of myself. I wondered what they'd think of Celeste. They'd probably side eye her hardened eyes, scars, and tiger tattoo but I hoped they would be able to look past that and get to know her.