~CELINE'S POV~

The next morning, Bianca was watching me like she was waiting for me to trip over something. Her eyes were sharp, unforgiving. 

Like she was still tasting the sting of my hand on her cheek from the night before. 

I let her stare. Let her think whatever she wanted. I had bigger things to worry about than her bruised pride. 

I spent most of the day doing what I always did—working myself into a sweat, pretending I was invisible. It was easier that way. Until ...