We Don't Have to be a Tragedy

Juliet’s Point of View

Romeo grinned at me as we left our last class of the day.

“Now I’ve got you all to myself,” he teased, giving me a hug with one arm.

“Is it you who’s got me, or the other way around?” I teased in return, with minimum flushing involved. That was a first where I was concerned…I usually flushed around him quite easily.

“Touché,” he replied, grinning. “What d’you say to dropping everything off and going out for dinner, just the two of us?”

This made me blush, but I flashed a smile at him and said, “Sounds great.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” he encompassed my hand in his own and we continued walking.

I watched him as we walked in our comfortable silence. I readily accepted the fact that sometimes words just weren’t needed, because it was comfortable just being with him, words or no. Every now and then, he’d glance to me with a ready smile, and I couldn’t do anything but smile back. He seemed to walk with a new bounce in his step, and I wondered if it was because of me or because he was in his element, with the play…

Stop thinking nonsense, I thought to myself. Of course it’s me. He wasn’t like this yesterday, was he? I thought not.

“So, where are we going?” I decided to ask as we took the stairs up to our floor.

“To drop stuff off,” he replied.

“That’s not what I meant,” I rolled my eyes.

He smirked, responding with, “I know.”

“Then where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

I sighed, but with a grin anyway. I’d never discourage Romeo from being himself, because it was himself that I’ve grown to love. From his quirks to his interests to his eyes and every single one of his different smiles…

I unlocked my dorm as he unlocked his, the locks clicking open simultaneously. I stepped in my room and deposited my bag on the bed, then I made sure my wallet was in my pocket and then I returned to the hall. Romeo was already waiting.

“Ready to go?” He asked - the perfect gentleman, as always.

“Let’s hit the road,” I said with a grin.

And I watched him again as we boarded a bus and he paid the fee for both of us. His cheerful mood never faltered, and he always had a grin to flash my way. His eyes were twinkling, and it seemed to me that they expressed a cross between his cheerfulness and a mischievousness. We chatted about things that didn’t really matter, like the weather - an age old, pointless topic. We talked about Panic at the Disco. We talked about the day we’d first met - for real, not me just seeing him once when we were fourteen - when Dad had called our names in roll call and there had been laughter.

After about twenty-five minutes, the bus stopped and, with our linked hands, he gently pulled me to my feet.

“This is our stop,” he said with a grin, and I let him lead me off the bus. As cliché as it is, I heard an old woman mutter to her friend as we passed, “Ah, young love! These days you hardly ever see them do anything as simple as holding hands. It’s sweet to see that sense hasn’t deserted all of the younger population.”

I laughed silently, and I could tell Romeo had, too, by the shaking of his shoulders as we exchanged glances.

“Here we are!” he said, proudly. It looked like a cozy little place, on the corner of two streets (I couldn’t see the signs) and it was lit up perfectly. Not too dim, not to bright. The sign boldly proclaimed “Whitney’s”.

“Whitney’s?” I read in a questioning voice.

“Yeah. It’s a small chain, just started about a decade ago. This one and one of the three in Colorado are the most famous so far.” he said.

I laughed, “What are you, the encyclopedia of Whitney’s businesses?”

He laughed too, and replied, “I might be. After all, my second cousin, who’s like 46, mind you, named it after my grandma.”

“Oh!” I said, then I grinned. “That’s really nice.”

“Yeah. So let’s go!”

I couldn’t help but grin at his childish antics and I let him pull me in.

“Romeo!” a guy said as soon as we walked in. “Been a while, man!”

“Hey, Tim!” Romeo grinned. “What’s up?”

“Not much, same as usual. Working. Who’s this you’ve brought along?”

I kind of waved. “I’m Juliet.”

Tim kind of laughed, then looked at us and then asked, “Seriously?”

“Yep,” Romeo grinned, hugging me with one arm, kissing my forehead. “And she’s my Juliet.”