I snorted. “I guess the bar is pretty low for us, huh? And no, I have no connections to the Montagues. Unless you count frequent brawls with Romeo Montague where I come out as the winner.”
Yeah, I fight him all the time. With my mouth on his and his hands on my waist.
“I’ll have to teach you how to box sometime.” I smiled, genuinely so, and ran a hand through my hair. “I think you’d have the passion for it.”
“I used to take kickboxing lessons,” I recalled, thinking back for a moment. “And yeah, that sounds like fun. Thank you.”
“Of course.” I looked around, making sure the waiter hadn’t returned yet, before resting my head on the table. Exhaustion bogged down my limbs, making every movement seem weighted and heavy.
“Sleep,” I coaxed him softly—for both our benefits. “I’ll wake you when I see the waiter.”
“No… No, I’m okay.” I lifted my head back up, wincing a little at the pain shooting from my neck. “I’ll give you my full attention, I’m sorry.”
“Paris, you need to stop apologizing for something you can’t control,” I told him gently. “Please, rest. You clearly need it, and I don’t mind.”
“Are you certain?” I forced myself to perk up, pray I looked awake enough.
“Absolutely certain,” I confirmed, forcing myself to lean over and pat his shoulder.
I leaned into her touch before pulling away and lowering my head onto the table, leaving my aching neck exposed to the cool air with the hopes of the swelling going down a bit. It didn’t take long before I was fully unconscious, the tension leaving my body for a short amount of time while I slept.
I let my eyes brush over the mark on his neck—so that was what he had been rubbing all this time? But I tore my eyes away, trying to savour the moment alone.
It was blissful. Although when I imagined taking Juliet on a date it didn’t involve being passed out on a rooftop, drooling on a cheap tablecloth. But sometimes things don’t work out the way I expect. This just happened to be one of those things, and lord knows I needed the rest.
I sighed and closed my eyes, trying to collect my frazzled nerves. I felt like I was standing on the edge of a brink, hanging by a slowly snapping thread.
What am I going to do?
I snore peacefully. For once I had no nightmares. I hadn’t gotten more than two hours of sleep in the last three days. Now that my body finally had it, I was more than reluctant to let it go.
We sat like that for a while, my thoughts smoothing over until my mind was as still as a lake. My mouth relaxed from its forced curve into a relaxed, serene smile. For a few precious minutes, I was alone with my thoughts. I was calm, at peace.
Then, I caught sight of the waiter emerging from the kitchens and hurriedly shook Paris awake.
Juliet’s soothing voice was the last thing I heard before I drifted off the sleep, but my waking up was anything but graceful as I was suddenly shook into disoriented consciousness. I forced myself to prop my head up on my elbows, my eyelids rebelliously flickering shut.
The waiter was turning to speak with someone in the kitchen, giving me a few more seconds to successfully wake Paris up.
“Paris,” I whispered urgently, snapping a finger in front of his eyes, which were once again drifting shut. But he was falling asleep again—and fast. Reacting purely on instinct, I placed my hand on his cheek and forced his head up until he met my eyes. “Up. The waiter is coming.”
I groaned softly as Juliet’s words began to register. It was soothing to just let her hold my head in the palm of her hand and let her handle things, but my parents would disown and kill me if I ever exposed that much weakness in public. “Right, right… sorry. I’m up.” I mumbled groggily, pulling away and sitting stiffly upright.
I pulled my shaking hand away from his skin as quickly as possible, heart racing from nothing but fear and regret. Why had I touched him like that?
“Rub your eyes,” I instructed softly, swallowing the lump in my throat.
I followed her instructions, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes without complaint. I wanted nothing more than to just give in to sleep on the spot…
The waiter approached our table before I could say anything else, his arms laden with two plates of pizza.
“Thank you.” I greeted the waiter as he set down the pizza on the table.
“Will that be all?” The waiter turned to look at me and for a second I got a terrible gut feeling that he was sizing me up.
“Yes, that will be all.” I replied back stiffly, only relaxing again once the waiter was out of sight.
“This looks good,” I murmured, eyeing the steaming plate of pizza. “Do you want me to pay?”
“No, I came prepared, that won’t be necessary.” I breathed out quietly, realizing I hardly had an appetite. I’d have to force myself to eat anyways.
“If you’re sure,” I murmured, lifting the pizza to my mouth. “I’ll pay next time.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I replied, my heart not really in the act at the moment. I pushed the pizza lightly with my finger, trying to convince myself to take a bite.
I began to work away at my pizza—which was perhaps the best I had tasted, despite the less-than-ideal circumstances. Occasionally, I would glance over at Paris, waiting for him to make conversation because I had no idea what to say.
“So…” I don’t know what was worse, the silence or my stiff attempt at breaking it. “You mentioned you liked plays, right?”
I nodded, dabbing at my mouth with a napkin. “Yes, I did. Acting, singing sometimes. I like Shakespeare.”
“You’re very well rounded.” I complimented her, still picking at the pizza sitting in front of me. “I never had much luck with Shakespeare. What do you like about his works?”
