The Hate Between Us (Percabeth&Solangelo)

Chapter Nine: An Argument in the Cafeteria

Piper POV

Look in the mirror, tell me what do you see?

I see a girl who's confused. She has long flowing hair that gets in her way and takes forever to maintain. It's always the first thing most people notice about her, and it drives her insane. She has intense, multi-coloured eyes that she got from her mother, gods rest her soul. Her mother was strong too. People always tell her she could be a model, and she turns up her nose because the notion insults her. She's more than just her looks, isn't she?

I see a girl who's doing well in school, because she wants to prove others that she is more than just a pretty face. She's got plans to be an actress one day, but it's not what she wants, not really. If she were being honest with herself she would admit that she's always, secretly, wanted to go to college. She has amazing friends and an amazing boyfriend. He's patient with her – she thinks of him a lot... but recently she's been thinking of her as well... the girl at the coffee shop. But she can't, that's not right. She's pretty sure he's the one.

I see a girl who thinks she knows who she is, but she's unsure. Does she know herself? Does she know what she wants? Who is she now, and worse yet, who will she become? She's unsure and afraid – she's ashamed of this uncertainty.

I called Shel that night. Immediately after date night with Jason – immediately after my front door had closed behind him. It sounds awful, I know, but it had been impossible to forget her all day, and even when I was with Jason all I could think about was that plastic cup with her number on...

CALL ME.

Shel called me the night after, and I called her the night after that. For many weeks, actually, we called each other every night. At first it was just a call – just a few nervous words exchanged and nothing more than that. And then it was a facetime, and then a call to see if the other were available, and then we would meet up for drinks or a movie or a walk around central park and... I felt awful.

Was it cheating? I couldn't say, if only because I didn't want it to be. From an outside point of view, Shelly and I were no more than friends. We'd hang out, we'd laugh, we'd talk for hours on end without the conversation ever needing to stop. I'd tell her all my secrets – more than I had told anyone else in the world – and she'd tell me hers. That was it. Nothing more. No kissing or touching or anything like that. Just friends.

But under the surface I suppose you could say there were... feelings?

Truth be told I didn't even know what I was feeling. It was just that. Feeling. It wasn't like I ever wanted to be touched or wanted to touch her or kiss her or have her kiss me. I just wanted to tell her about my day and make her laugh and make her happy.

But there was something else, something more, something I didn't even want to admit to myself. Because before Shel, life had seemed pretty straightforward to me. I was who I was, and I knew what that was. I was just Piper, with my boyfriend Jason, and I only ever liked boys. And now there were times when I would lie awake at night, resisting the urge to call Shel, whilst also contemplating whether it was just boys that I liked.

If I thought a famous actress was pretty, was I thinking that because I wanted to look like her, or thinking that because I wanted to be with her? When I was with Shel, were my thoughts completely platonic? Could I imagine myself kissing her, touching her... doing more? I'm not gay, right? Not even bi? Or maybe I'm not even straight... Perhaps all my life I've just adhered to the ideas of compulsory heterosexuality? Perhaps I didn't like boys at all? Perhaps I only kiss Jason because I was made to believe I wanted to? Or maybe I'm neither, not gay nor straight. Maybe I like neither? Maybe I don't want to be in a relationship, or maybe I want to be in a relationship but not in a sexual way? Gay, straight, bi, pan, ace... there are so many words to choose from, surely one of them defines me? Do I have to even put a label on what I feel at all? Can't I just be me, whatever that is? Maybe I should speak to Reyna, or Nico, or Ryan, or Annabeth, or a guidance counsellor, or my father, or an expert that wouldn't know my name, or the church or my teachers or maybe just no one at all. Or maybe Shel. Or maybe-