We Don't Have to be a Tragedy

Juliet’s Point of View

You’d think that, in high school, people would get over this sort of thing. But no. We are college students, for Pete’s sake, and the news of Romeo and I seemed to spread like wildfire in a dry cornfield. It is rather annoying, to tell the truth, to have sixteen girls in a span of two hours congratulate you on getting the hottest Freshman student in the college, and the male star of the play, all to yourself. Annoying.

And to think, it’s Tuesday so I see him less, which is probably why they’ve been given all these chances to torment me with congratulations and advice that I don’t need and then others asking for advice, and even a *beep* who wanted to know if she could ‘have him when I was through’.

How horrible is that last one?!

Gosh.

So I smile, say a thanks or whatever seems appropriate, like, to the *beep* when “I’m sorry, but he’s not a dog that I’ll care for for a few days then kick out and let someone else adopt him. Tough luck. Find someone else to target.”

Okay, so I was a *beep* myself, but hey.

And what is with me and *beep*-ing?

I shake myself to attention and focus my attention to the front of the class, where an essay is being assigned, due in two weeks from tomorrow.

Idly, I start writing, humming a tune I made up a year or so ago as I do.

When the bell rings, I find the words are my own, written a few years ago, and I find that they very nearly fit the tune I have been humming under my breath. I kind of laugh and decide that once I reach my dorm, I will write down the notes and try it out on my keyboard, then perhaps see if Mom would be fine with me going and digging out a guitar that my brother had never learned to play…then perhaps I’d see if Joe, from Dad’s class, would teach me. He was actually a very nice guy, once you got to know him.

I laughed softly to myself as I left the classroom, heading to the campus cafeteria and, as I sincerely hoped, Romeo.

Romeo’s Point of View

I caught a glimpse of black hair as I was heading to lunch, and saw her flick her hair back unconsciously. I laughed out loud, as stupid as it may sound, and called out, “Juliet!”

I saw her stop, and turn. A grin was spreading across her face.

“Romeo!”

I rushed up to her, and I knew that a grin fit to crack all mirrors in the vicinity split across my face as we hugged.

“I haven’t seen you all day,” I mock-whined, which wasn’t exactly true. I’d seen her in one class today, so far, and I knew we had one more after lunch.

“Nonsense,” she laughed, lightly and playfully punching my shoulder, “You saw me first thing!”

“That was hours ago,” I sighed. “Ah, well, I can see you now! So, let’s go get food while this lasts.”

She laughed and hugged my arm lightly. “Let’s!” she agreed.

All in all, Juliet as my girlfriend isn’t much different than Juliet as my friend, except for the fact that it felt so right to hold her, and even a kiss on the cheek sent electricity down to the very tips of my toes.

And don’t even get started on how that’s the ‘girl’s’ usual thing to say, because it applies to me too, and with my attraction to her, I know I’m as straight as a board. But I do have friends who aren’t, and I’m perfectly fine with that. That’s off topic, though, because my topic was Juliet.

Juliet Viola Capula.

The girl who was my girlfriend, and the girl I was so infatuated with I can’t even look at another girl and her flirtatious techniques without thinking of Juliet’s laugh and smile.

To clear my head of all my thoughts, I look at Juliet, sitting right beside me at a little table eating a normal cheeseburger, and smile softly. And I can’t help but to, when she smiles back, lean in to give her a light kiss, gentler than many girls probably expect from their boyfriends, because frankly, girls understand the male gender better than we understand the female gender.

And the light blush on her cheeks and her even bigger smile made the whole thing and thought process worthwhile.

When we have to part for the next block, I hug her close for a few minutes, and I have the feeling that I’d never let her go if I could help it. Ever. So, I just give her another kiss on the cheek, smile at her, and go, “See you after the next block.”

“Yeah, see you then,” she says, still shyly, and leans up to kiss me on the cheek in return. “Hope you finished your assignment!” she said as she started to walk away, with a smirk over her shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” I called back, “You’re the one who helped me with it!”

She laughed, and I grinned broadly as I turned to head in the opposite direction.