Teaspoon of Love | 2023 ✔️

Day 4: Retelling and Rewriting

Prompt: Retell a classical or famous love story.
Max. Wordcount: 500 words
Note - This is a retelling of Romeo and Juliet.

The unwelcome visitor scanned the crowd, eyes combing over the blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl he fell madly for. She didn't want him. The thought irked him, singeing the bright yellow flag he wore. He grinned a wide grin and strode toward the girl. Instead of sparking a conversation with the girl, he turned to the brunette beside the rejector.

"Hello, Emily." The boy nodded respectfully.

The brunette all but restricted a glare. "Clark."

"What are you doing here?" Penny stepped ahead of Emily, blocking the boy's path.

The boy tilted his head, admiring a cubist piece. "The art, duh."

He had the two fooled.

On the contrary, that wasn't his only objective. As his cousin stated, this was an opportune time to engage with like-minded persons, particularly females.

Again, the boy had to consider why he attended the rival's art showing. He reminded himself continuously of the mission, trying to block his other intrusive thoughts.

Penny scowled at the boy, peered into his crystal-clear eyes, and snarled, "I'm not getting with you, you juvenile delinquent."

The boy smiled, ignoring the urge to dump his cranberry juice on the girl's head. In the same whisper, he lowered his head and uttered a light phrase, "I'm not here for you, Penny." The blue-eyed girl gawked at him, her brows furrowing. He raised his gaze to the brunette and asked in a baritone, "Would you like a drink?"

"No, Clark," Emily spat.

The girl wasn't pliable. Through a steady stream of corny jokes and small talk, the boy couldn't make Emily drop her burning stare.

And she doesn't even know who I am! The boy thought, inwardly rolling his eyes over the matter. How bad can mixing up a coffee order get? The boy grimaced, recalling the interaction the prior week. She had come into the cafe with a laundry list of orders along with another with an equally long list. Accidentally, he sent both parties off with the wrong orders.

And here he was practically drooling over the color of her eyes, mild brown, rustic, with flicks of yellow drifting like fall leaves. Get over it. He encouraged himself. His father wouldn't be pleased if he made a fool of himself now.

He was here as a spy.

That's all, nothing more. At least, according to his father. According to his cousin, he was here to get a girl. He didn't know why he was there, speaking with the rival, the enemy.

Though, one thing was definite in the foggy chaos of that evening. Everything, the piercing glare and loathing feelings, would dissipate in the following months, breaking into fragments of memory.