Romeo and Juliet

23-H-

                                                                          Too Self-centered to Care


He vanishes without a word, and I swiftly find Julie, insisting we head home. Leaving her alone isn't an option; it's far too risky.

As I make my way back, my heart lodges in my throat. Could this be the sting of unrequited love? It's agonizing, indeed. Yet, my mind is crowded with other pressing matters: the upcoming regionals, my mother's well-being, and a wedding I might forgo.

Romeo fades into the background of my days. Despite the whispers and rumors, I'm relieved our brief romance didn't linger. Any longer, and the truth might have shattered the reputation that's my lifeline. We share fleeting moments—glances, smiles, the occasional meal—but I dodge his every invitation.

Our respective admirers seem appeased, biding their time with patient anticipation.

My heels echo a rhythmic click-clack as I navigate the school corridors. "Baby," Zed's voice cuts through the din.

All eyes pivot to us as we converge.

"Hi," I greet him with a kiss.

"Let me escort you to class," he suggests, presenting me with a bouquet of sunflowers.

Their fragrance is intoxicating, reminiscent of his essence.

Zed's recent displays of affection have won me over, much to my surprise. I've never been one for sentimental gestures—flowers, chocolates, the works—yet now, they bring a comfort I hadn't known before.

"Okay." Hand in hand, we proceed to class, eliciting gasps and murmurs. Zed, another affable football star, has always been a crowd-pleaser. I have dated him once before and here I am again. I don't usually go back to what I have used. But it seems that recently I am breaking my own rules.

Romeo and I's deceit prompted a revelation: I crave someone who's my polar opposite. And Zed, with his romantic flair, checks all the boxes.

As we pass by, my name echoes in various tones. I acknowledge some with a wave and a playful kiss; the rest can lavish their adoration on my shadow.

"Thank you, Love," I murmur as we near the classroom.

"Anytime, Babe. Just a heads-up, I've got practice today, so I can't pick you up. The regionals are looming, and coach is on edge. He wants us on the field early," Zed informs me. 

A secret relief washes over me—I've been craving solitude, and Zed's constant presence has been suffocating. My inner cynic smirks; I'm far from smitten. The mere notion of love sends shivers down my spine, conjuring images of dramatic escapes beneath buses or my own car.

I am too of a flirt to actually consider settling down.

"I can imagine the pressure. Frank's got us in a similar bind," I empathize.

"Alright," he says, stealing a quick kiss. "I'll catch you later."

Turning to enter the classroom, I'm met with a sea of stares. Perhaps I'm exaggerating, but it feels like every pair of eyes is fixed on me. I am not bothered by it until I see Romeo. He sits beside an empty chair, an unspoken invitation I can't accept.

I must maintain the facade, the heartbreaker, the envy of all. Zed's public display of affection has likely left many pining. Yet, the thrill eludes me now. The one person I wish had looked away is Romeo. He knows I am dating Zed and I wish he didn't know. 

Ignoring his puzzled expression, I stride past him to sit beside Julissa.

"I thought you needed to sit closer," she whispers.

"I do, but I can't sit there," I reply.

"Trouble in paradise?" she probes.

"No, it's not that. I just can't sit there," I insist.

"Okay," she concedes, just as the teacher enters.

I attempt to concentrate on the lesson but to no avail. Romeo doesn't spare me a glance, and as soon as class ends, he's the first to leave. It seems I'm the only one who notices.

*****