So some of you asked what happened to the others, and now I'll indulge you. Hope you enjoy!

Celeste's POV:

Home.

It's such a foreign word to me. For the past few months, I've been living at the palace. And now I'm home.

Don't get me wrong, my house is not that much different than the palace. I live in a mansion, with maids and butlers and guards. Most of the others in The Selection were speechless when they arrived at the palace, but being a Two, I was familiar with it. America especially was not used to it, as she was the only Five still in the competition after the first ten minutes.

I remember the first time seeing America. It was on the plane. I strutted in, acting like I owned the place (as always). She was sitting with Marlee. My first impression of her was a shy, stupid, love struck girl, but I later found out that was not the case. America turned out to be the smartest and most stubborn of us all, until she blew it on the Report. The rest, as they say, is history.

Now that I'm back in my home province, things are different. I'm on probation. Everyone knows what I did, and they all dislike me for it. My adoring fans no longer exist, my parents are very disappointed, my 'friends' don't talk to me, even my little brother seems to shy away every time I come near. They all think I'm violent. I want to tell them that I'm not, I'm not violent, I'm not cruel, I don't want to hurt anyone. I was only jealous. But I fear they wouldn't listen.

So I decided to apply for a modeling job in my town, just to get my mind off things. That's where I am right now, in the waiting room.

"Celeste Newsome." the attendant calls my name. I stand and strut over to her in my four inch hot pink heels. "Where do I go?" I ask, popping my gum after asking. She points to a door, and I walk through. A man sits at a desk, leaning over a paper. I clear my throat while tapping my toes. He looks up, and sees me standing. A worried look passes over his face, but it is gone as soon as I blink. "You've come to apply for a job?" he asks. "Yes." I reply impatiently. What else would I be doing here?

"Please, take a seat." the man says. His name tag reads Mr. Wilkins. "Miss Celeste," he starts. For a moment, the only sound in the room is my pooping gum. "I understand that you are very experienced at modeling." he says. I nod. "And I would gladly hire you, but...we don't want any bad publicity. I am very sorry for the inconvenience I caused you, but-" I cut him off. "Inconvenience?" I ask. "You could have told me all this before I came here."

"I know, and I am sorry abou-" I cut him off yet again. "You know what? Forget it. Go on hiring your sucky models for your sucky magazine. You won't be getting my business anymore." I say haughtily, starting for the door. "Miss Celeste..." he tries to make amends. I turn the doorknob. "I said, forget it." The door slams shut behind me.

How could this be happening? My life is falling apart piece by piece in front of my eyes.

Right after walking out of the building, I do something I never thought I'd do. I sit down on a bench, and cry. I cry for what seems like hours, and can't bring myself to care what others think. That's when I feel a tap on my shoulder.

"Lady Celeste?" a male voice asks. I look up. A tall, brown haired boy no older than me is standing beside the bench. Suddenly, I am very self conscious of my mascara. I try to wipe it away without being noticeable. "How do you know my name?" I manage to get out. Thankfully my voice doesn't crack. He laughs, a deep rumbling sound. "I'd be crazy if I didn't know your name." he says. True. I did just try to harm a member of The Selection, and was one myself. Yet he doesn't treat me like a criminal. "May I?" he gestures to the bench. I nod.

"My name is Royce." he tells me after sitting. Royce. That's a nice name. Now that he's eye level with me, I have a chance to study his face. Piercing blue eyes, a perfect jaw, soft looking lips. He's muscular, yet not so muscular that it's all you notice. He doesn't seem haughty, or prideful, or vain. He seems kind, thoughtful, caring. "Hello Royce." I reply. "You already know my name, so..."

About this time I would be flirting with him, or be mad because he saw me crying, but not anymore. Not today.

"So..." he says. I smile, a real one. Not forced, like usual. Royce brings out the real me.

He smiles back, a lopsided grin that I immediately fall in love with. "Royce, would you like to go to lunch with me?" I ask boldly. He responds with no hesitation. "I would be delighted." A perfect gentleman.

As we stand and walk to the nearest restraunt, his hand brushes mine, and I feel electricity rush up my arm. The feeling is foreign. That gets me thinking about my future.

Maybe Royce is the one. Maybe Royce will like me for me.

Maybe I have found true love.

Will Celeste get her happy ending?

Sorry this is so short, I just really wanted to get it up for y'all to read.

I don't think I'll be writing anymore about Royce and Celeste unless you request it. Time to focus on Maxerica.

Thanks for all the reviews! Next chapter should be up soon.

Sara