Chapter 4 || Calling for Romeo

Unedited.

The story is intentionally slow, by the way. I can't have her just jump him, as that goes against all the build-up😙💞

CALLING FOR ROMEO

Where can I find a book, where can I find a book?

I run around campus aimlessly, my insides twisting with worry and apprehension.

This is one of the moments where I wish I had friends. Because right now I'm at my wits' end, and I have no one to turn to.

"Look at her..." The whispers I hear on my left leave me taking a few steps back. Don't people have better things to do than bicker about other people? Gossip is utterly pointless and I've never understood why so many people love doing it.

Still, I can't help self-consciously hiding my face behind a wall of my long thigh-length hair, trying to ignore the remarks and the dirty glances.

Curse that harlot for spreading rumors.

Curse Mr. Williams for breaking my heart.

Curse the world for leaving me in such a chaotic state.

Where can I find the fùcking book?

Gnawing at my nails, I look at a random girl sitting on a bench nearby, anxiously browsing through a copy of Romeo and Juliet.

She isn't in my class, so I don't think she's going to need that book for another four periods... but should I approach her?

She seems like one of my kind; a nerd, reserved and outcast. I haven't seen her around before so... think fast, Namora.

I look at my watch, only ten minutes left.

If I haven't seen her around before... she's probably new. Which means, she probably hasn't heard any rumors about me. Which also means, she can be seen as a friend.

Until of course, the harlot gets to her. But before that, I think I can test my luck.

So I do.

"Hi there!" I say, approaching her with a smile on my face.

"Hi..." The girl looks up from her book, giving me a shy smile. Her viridescent eyes look beautiful, and I would've complimented her for it if I wasn't in a rush.

"You do english literature?"

"Yeah... 8th period," she says, closing her book as she turns to face me.

"You're new, right? Have you been shown around yet?" I ask, wondering whether I should get straight to the point or play it safe.

"Yep, kinda... do you need something?" She asks uncomfortably. I think I'm intimidating her, but I honestly have more important things to worry about. Five minutes left.

"I lost my book, Romeo and Juliet... I was wondering if you can lend it to me," I begin, watching the way her eyes scan my face uncertainly, "I promise I'll return it before 8th period, we can meet here during 3rd break."

I watch her face twist in contemplation, impatient. I really needed that damn book.

"Please trust me. I have no other person I can ask. I'm not exactly well-liked here because I'm a nerd..." She probably understands the struggle of being a nerd. God, please let her sympathise with me.

"Alright..." she says, gently handing me the book, "I'll help a fellow nerd out. You don't look like a nerd, though."

Her remark stings, because I know my face leaves me underestimated by many. Even Mr. Williams couldn't escape that trap.

Fúck, I can't get him out of my head.

"Haha, yeah, I get that a lot." Smiling sheepishly, knowing my brown cheeks are colouring red.

"Who do you have class with, by the way?"

"Mr. Williams."

"Oh? That's awesome!"

I can't help the raise of my eyebrows at her enthusiasm. Do I have competition?

"Oh no, no. I mean," the quirky smile on her face speaks to me, "he's an awesome teacher. I had him at my previous school in year ten. He knows his stuff, this guy."

So, I might have competition, but the way she admits the compliment so openly tells me that she might not consider him a romantic interest.

Good.

"Ah, I see. What was he like over there? Because here, sorry to say, he's a grumpy mess who seems to love putting me down," I can't help my sullen tone at the end.

"Oh, so you've unleashed that side of him," the girl says mysteriously, her head nodding in understanding.

"What side?" I'm completely clueless right now.

"He loves taunting people who have talent," she says, by way of explanation. But that doesn't suffice.

"Care to elaborate?" I press, ready to extract more information.

But then the bell rings, and dread begins to seep in when I realize I won't be getting my answer. At least, not right now.

I weigh the cons. This information isn't worth getting Mr. Williams angry at me a second time.

Walking backwards, I yell, "thanks, I gotta go now."

She smiles up at me in understanding, "good luck, you're going to need it."

Apprehension twists my stomach as I give her a pained smile in return, "thanks, I'll take all that I can get."

And then, I pose dramatically, knowing that as a nerd she'd understand my humor, "God save me from his wrath!"

Tinkling laughter ensues as I rush off, her laughter drawing a smile over my face when I realize my antics didn't weird her out.

Maybe we can grow to be good friends.

But I guess I shouldn't speak too soon, because I can end up having my expectations crushed. Again.

Entering into the classroom, I come face to face with Mr. Williams' emotionless face. God, how delicious he looks.

I'd like to say that he'd been expecting me, judging by the way he turns to face me when I walk in. But those harsh winter eyes don't let me assume anything.

Then I realize what I'd come early for, and give him a smirk.

He raises his eyebrows in response, holding the book in his hands as if to mock me.

Ha, you underestimate me, Mr. Williams.

Letting my smirk widen, I smugly dangle the copy from my hands as I waltz towards my seat.

His eyebrows seem to raise higher as I take my seat, and in response I raise my own eyebrows at him, crossing my legs and flipping through the pages extravagantly, knowing fully well that he's watching me.

Ha, take that, you frustratingly beautiful man.

He seems like he is about to say something, but refrains from it as more and more students begin pouring in.

I fix him a devilish smirk again, relishing in the fact that I've captured his full attention.

He should've known that he'd get burnt when he chose to play with fire.

I look both ways, and after making sure no one is watching me, I mouth back at him, "guess who found Romeo after calling for him?"

He's smart, he'll get the reference.

And the small twinkle in his blue eyes tells me he did.

"Alright, class, settle down," he drawls out, after which he is met with complete silence. Huh, he's already earnt everyone's respect.

"By now, you all should have begun writing your essays," he halts, looking at all the guilty faces that stare back at him, "and if by chance you haven't, then, may God save you (from my wrath)."

Chuckles resound.

"Calling for Romeo won't help you, you'll need to put in effort to find him."

Only he and I know the reference to his statement, and I curse him again for being able to paraphrase his words so cleverly. Such an attractive talent. I revel in the confused expressions the other kids have over their faces.

But in a way, he's right, I realize. I did waste my time looking for the book when I could have been more careful with my belongings. Looking down regretfully at the copy I hold in my hands, I actually feel bad for my lack of care.

Then I feel Mr. Williams' orbs burning a path into my skin, and I look up again bashfully. He narrows his eyes at me, and I realize that my face is probably expressing what's in my thoughts.

I wish I could sport a poker face. I didn't need him to know the effect he and his words have on me.

He almost seems bored as he breaks his gaze with me and turns towards the desk, picking up two books.

When he turns around again, he holds up two editions of Romeo and Juliet.

My eyes widen.

One from the library, and the other...

Wait.

That's my book!