We Don't Have to be a Tragedy

*Romeo’s Point of View*

“Well…”

I leaned closer, smiling as she contemplated.

She is Juliet, and I’m not just saying this because I’m Romeo…but she is gorgeous. Seriously, drop-dead I-can’t-believe-I’m-this-close gorgeous. The type that makes you---well, me, at least---want to get to know her, actually know her, not just ask her out on a random date.

Let me explain more.

Juliet has this gorgeous curly black hair---I’m guessing the curls are natural---and her eyes just say so much about her. They’re the eyes that say, I’m up to a challenge, and I’m not afraid of a little trouble. I’ll roll with whatever you throw at me, and I won’t back off, and let’s not forget, the ever popular, And I won’t break your heart if you don’t break mine first. I just want someone to love me and not how I look.

At least, that’s what her eyes screamed at me. And those lips, the nice, full lips that could pull of the perfect puppy-dog pout and the smiles that melt the hearts of stronger men than I.

“Well, I suppose I’ll ask…what’s your full name?” she said, and I was startled from my thoughts.

“Erm…Romeo Montague Davis…” I said, kind of embarrassed. She just laughed that tinkling laugh of hers that made me laugh, too.

“My turn,” I cut in. “Now it’s time for your full name!”

“Juliet Viola Capula.” she said firmly. “Juliet, from the obvious, and Viola’s from---”

“Twelfth Night, yeah.” I intervened, then mentally kicked myself. She’d tell me if she wanted to, and I shouldn’t just be an arse and interrupt her! But then she grinned her winning grin.

“Exactly!” She beamed at me. “What, your parents like Shakespeare, too?”

“Oh, yeah. Tons. But so do I.” This was kind of absentmindedly said, and I wondered vaguely after it had slipped out if she’d think I was just trying to impress her.

Cue mental-kicking-of-myself.

“That’s cool,” She grinned. “Anyway, Mr. Montague,” this was teasing, I could easily decipher, “what is your favorite color?”

“Blue,” I said without hesitation, and just realizing the instant after I said it that her eyes were the most gorgeous blue I’d ever seen in my life. A kind of diamond-esque blue, but a little darker. I loved her eyes. I hoped she didn’t catch that little bit.

“Awesome,” she grinned. “That’s my best friend Taylor’s favorite. She’s going a few states over for college, though.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said quickly. She laughed and brushed it off nonchalantly.

“Don’t worry! Don’t apologize, it’s not as if she’s dead. She’s just a few hundred miles---maybe thousands, come to think of it---further away than she’d normally be.”

“Okay. Anyway, your favorite color, mademoiselle?” I tried to create a smooth transition of topic, but I don’t think it worked well, but she grinned.

“That’s a hard one…but I’d say…”

*Juliet’s Point of View*

That’s a hard one,” I said slowly, “but I’d have to say green.”

I flashed a smile then realized too late that his eyes were the deep emerald green I was envisioning. What can I say? I’m the type of girl who looks at their eyes and attitude, not much else. But they have to be decent-looking…or even the childish cuteness some teens and young adults still have. He laughed softly, apparently at something he’d thought, then turned to me again.

“Which shade of green?” he asked simply, grinning.

“Excuse me, sir,” I said, playfully---and realizing it was almost flirtatious---”but I do believe it was my turn to ask a question?”

“Oh, right you are, carry on!” he said in his imitation of a British accent.

“What is your favorite thing to do?” I asked randomly, already out of questions, but he just laughed.

“Oh, I don’t know. I read a lot, but one of my favorite things to do is act, like in plays.”

I looked at him almost quizzically. Don’t blame me! It’s not every single day you come across I guy who is voluntarily inclined to dress up in tights or wear makeup or something! Unless he’s gay, but I had a feeling that this guy wasn’t. Let’s just say it’s not every day you find a guy who likes to act in plays rather than films and other similar things. It was different, but not in a bad way.

“Okay, my turn!” He said cheerfully. “Same question right back atcha!”

“Oh, I like to read, and singing’s a passion of mine.”

It felt kind of weird just rattling off random facts about myself to this totally new guy in my life. Well, I don’t mean it the way it sounds---it’s not like we’re already dating or anything. I just feel weird telling him all these things because I’ve just met him.

You understand what I mean, right?

Oh, great. I’m talking to myself again, aren’t I? I’d better stop spacing out and work.

“Two minutes left, class!” Dad cut in, and I mentally cursed.

We’d each told the other about…five aspects of our lives. And almost all five were totally irrelevant to our purpose, other than hobbies. I mean, favorite colors and name would make up for about, one sentence, maybe?

“Oh, crud,” Romeo said, more to himself than to me.

“You won’t have much time in class to work on this, either. You’ll do most of it on your own time, and we’re jumping right into our first assigned novel tomorrow.”

“Double crud,” I said loud enough for only Romeo to hear me. He almost laughed.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, “let’s get all our information today. We could meet up at that little café around the corner around seven?”

“Oh, sure!” I said, trying not to flush because I knew it wasn’t a date. It is unusual for a guy you just met to ask you to a café just to work on schoolwork. It just wasn’t done by guys…but I tried not to think about it. “That’s perfect. I could do with more than your name, favorite colors, hobbies, favorite book, and favorite movie.” I said playfully.

“Oh, goody,” he pretend-sighed. “I thought I was the only one who’d thought that it wasn’t enough!”

At that moment, the bell rang, and we walked from the room, laughing. What’s more, we kept walking in the same direction.

And kept walking in the same direction.

Still…

Is he some sort of weird stalker?

No, I’m still talking to him…

Here’s my next class, I thought, turning. Funny thing was, he did too