We Don't Have to be a Tragedy

Romeo’s Point of View

Knock, knock, knock.

“Yeah? Who is it?” I called, putting a flourish on my secret hobby…calligraphy.

“It’s me,” I heard the voice of an angel. Seriously.

I scrambled up, shoving my calligraphy things under my bed carefully and walking over to the door. I opened it, and there she was.

“Hey, what’s up?” I asked, not noticing that I was just in a pair of slightly baggy jeans.

“Um…party at your house…” she mumbled, looking away with a light pink on her cheeks. “In about 45 minutes. They wanted me to tell you…again.”

I laughed, not really noticing why she was blushing, just that she was.

“Just like Applebee’s!”

“That’s what I said!” She groaned, pulling the classic face palm.

“Okay, I’ll be ready in a few minutes. I suppose you have to wait, because they didn’t leave directions for you?” I asked, subconsciously noting how she shifted her weight to the right when she was kind of embarrassed.

“Okay, yeah.” she said.

“You can hang out here, if you want. I’ll go shower and be back in five…” I said, grabbing a shirt and jeans at random from my drawers and hiding my boxers between them.

She sat in my soft chair at my desk and spun in a circle. “Alright.”

I laughed softly to myself as I walked out and left the door open. Hey, Juliet was in there, so no one would steal my laptop, right? Speaking of Juliet why was she - Oh.

Reaching down to pull off my shirt, I realized I wasn’t wearing one. No wonder she was blushing, I’d just thrown on a pair of jeans when I woke up. I was in my room, with some amount of privacy…until she came in. I felt embarrassed just thinking about that.

Juliet’s Point of View

Okay. He left. Breathe.

Breathing is essential for life, Jules…Juliet…whatever your name is.

Great! Now I’m talking to myself!

I don’t even know whether I’m “Jules” or “Juliet” anymore. Taylor still calls me Jules, but everyone else is calling me Juliet, and with the play and everything, I’m adapting to the name. And, surprisingly, it’s not bothering me as much as it normally would have.

But now was not the time for thinking about what my name really is.

I just saw Romeo shirtless.

Oh. My. Gosh.

And he was freaking sexy.

SEXY!!!

“Get a grip, Juliet,” I grumbled to myself, feeling my cheeks flare up with fire again. The image would not leave…not that I particularly wanted it to, or anything…

I groaned.

“Talking to ourselves, are we?”

I jumped out of my skin, and looked up. There was the object of my current insanity, water droplets clinging to his dirty-blonde hair.

“Erm…yeah, a bit…” I said, sheepishly.

He laughed and threw his dirty clothes into a hamper on the other side of the room, which was actually empty before these new additions.

Then he strode over to me, and with a bow, held out his arm and said, “May I have the honor of escorting M’lady to the residence at which the ball is held?”

I snorted and took his arm. “You may,” I said, then laughed again.

I think it was to disguise my blush, because when people laugh their faces turn red…

Romeo’s Point of View

I don’t know what overtook me when I asked to escort her. It was just a spur of the moment thing, and I know it was cheesy…but I couldn’t resist. Everything was messed up in my mind, and it was the only thing I thought I could say legibly at the time…other than my lines in Act II, Scene II…

That stupid scene, I thought dryly, will be imbedded into my brain forever.

“Well, let’s go then,” I grinned at her, constricting the flow of my thoughts before I said something embarrassing out loud.

“Yes, let’s,” she said in a mock British accent, with a grin that lit up my world.

Yes, as cheesy as it sounds.