Romeo and Juliet

1-R-

Parking Perfectly Fine

"You're such a nuisance, you know that, right?" Romeo declares. His lips form a tight line as he glares at me, holding a pinch of his drenched shirt between his fingers.

I stare at him, momentarily dumbfounded, but quickly regain my composure. There's no denying that Romeo has a physique to drool over, but his less-than-appealing personality negates any possibility of me ever considering dating him. Despite his potential to be the meanest guy around, he still manages to maintain a loyal following. I shake my head slightly, my gaze dropping to his muscular arms as they flex, pointing at the mess I've made of his shirt.

"Stupid," he adds.

How would he know that? We haven't spoken a word to each other since preschool, when I stabbed him with a crayon and it broke. The point is, he just said the wrong thing. Did he just call me stupid? Right in front of everyone? That's unacceptable.

"I'm not stupid, you moron. Watch where you're walking. I bet you did that on purpose just to talk to me," I retort, grinning mischievously, fully aware of the impact it will have on him. Oh, his ego! It just took a major hit.

"Me, talk to you? No thanks, I'm not desperate."

I glance around and notice everyone watching our unnecessary argument. Even though it's slightly embarrassing, I find myself enjoying every bit of it. I take pleasure in observing him. His personality may be terrible, but simply looking doesn't hurt anyone. With his wet hair and tight t-shirt, I think I'll need to head for confession after school. It's been a while.

"You owe me a new jacket. I let the last spill on my shirt slide, but not this one," he groans, removing it. My eyes widen in surprise.

I stare at him, perplexed. I owe him what? Could he repeat that, please? Sure, I've seen him wear his jacket everywhere, but I bet he saw me coming and still didn't move.

"Yeah, right. Then you owe me a cappuccino."

"I mean it, Helena."

"I know. Me too."

He looks like he's about to burst, but a grin quickly spreads across his face. He runs a hand through his hair and points at me, as if a light bulb just went off in his head.

"Oh wait! You thought I'd strip down again just because I did it once before. If you wanted a peep show, you should've just asked, sweetheart."

Why am I even here? I should be at practice.

What a creep. Thinks he's some kind of Casanova. Just because he's been around the block doesn't mean I want a slice of that pie. And the worst part? Even I, who am notoriously picky about guys, found myself checking him out.

My eyes sweep across the expansive university halls. Even though I should be accustomed to it by now, something feels different. Being admired for my looks is one thing, but being gawked at for arguing with the school's heartthrob while being labeled an idiot is downright mortifying. I can feel my cheeks heating up.

Everyone's eyes are glued to us, adding fuel to the fire. And it's for two completely different reasons that send a chill down my spine. They're all ogling Romeo, his t-shirt clinging to his chiseled muscles, his hair dripping wet. Meanwhile, they're staring at me in shock because I've been called an idiot. They're all getting a kick out of this spectacle, and I want no part in it anymore.

"As if," I retort, rolling my eyes and stomping away. I know I've lost this round, and despite the humiliation, I find myself secretly hoping for a rematch – one that I'll win. 

"Nice ass, Lena!" He shouts as I push past him, heading straight for the tennis court.

Dipshit!

*****