Romeo and Juliet

54- G

A Vile Person

The view is enchanting. As we navigate the isolated cliff roads, it's not just the breathtaking scenery that captivates me, but also the sight of him reflected in his convex mirror. My head rests on his back, and I can hear his heartbeat, louder than the purring of his motorcycle. I love it. Normally, this would terrify me, but lately, I've been feeling and doing things that defy my usual sense of caution.

I want to ask him where we're headed, but I don't want to shatter this silent fantasy.

The scenery is a blessing. The trees deepen to a richer green as the sun sets, and the cool fog brushes against my shirt skirt. The sleepy rays of the sun stroke my cheeks through the black helmet, making my skin tingle.

I hear his chuckle and feel it resonate through my hand. My fingers slowly find their way inside his shirt, and his heartbeat quickens. This moment is destined to become an eternal memory.

"We're almost there," he reassures me, taking a dirt road down the rocky hill.

I tense and sit up straight, scanning my surroundings. What if he intends to harm me? I didn't tell Mom, but she has my location. And I forgot my pepper spray.

"Dogs are well trained. They'll find my body."

He laughs again, and I feel the motorcycle slow down. The breathtaking view comes into sight, but my heart won't stop pounding, warning me this could be a trap.

"I would never hurt you," he says as we approach the cliff's edge.

"Jude has a lot of money. There are good divers who would find me if you threw me from this height."

He stops the motorcycle and stiffens. "Again, I would never hurt you."

I roll my eyes and dismount. The coolness of the falling night envelops me. Despite my hesitation, I can't help but smile. The view is stunning. I can see the shadow of the setting sun behind me and the full moon rising.

The roar of the water below and the sounds of the birds fill me with joy and peace.

He wraps his jacket around me, followed by his warm arms. I stiffen under his touch as he kisses my head and rests his chin on it.

"Isn't it a beautiful sight?"

It's rare for me to be speechless, but Romeo has that effect on me. Words, I have many, but my tongue fails me.

"I am sorry." He kisses my head again, moving my hair aside. Then he kisses my neck. "Maybe in another life, we will be together."

My blood runs cold, and I close my eyes.

"Romeo," I say. Why is he doing this? He knows how I feel about him, and yet he plays with my emotions. I would have preferred if he had just disappeared. Perhaps one day, I would have forgotten him. Maybe when another love finds me.

"What are you trying to do?"

"This is my way of saying sorry, Love," he says.

I shove him away, flinging the jacket in his direction. "Fuck You!"

"Ouch! I wanted to be alone with you. I know you've been waiting for me all day, and here I am."

"Take me home. Do you really think I want to play pretend with you? You gave me a response, and I accepted it."

"As a friend, I just want you to have a beautiful day."

"Friends don't toy with each other's feelings. I have no idea what game you're trying to play, but if I've become some sort of amusement for you, then you are a twisted, selfish, detestable friend."

He throws back his head and laughs, and in that moment, I can hardly contain my disgust. I regret him finding me; what was I even hoping for? Being here with him is clearly a monumental mistake.

"You don't mean that."

"I do! What are you going to do about it?" I jab my finger into his chest. "You are a vile person. I feel repulsed by you—a narcissist wrapped in charm."

"Stop!" He seizes my hand, trying to halt my relentless jabs. His eyes are dark pools, drawing me in and stirring anger within me. How dare he trifle with my emotions? I am Juliet. No one has ever had the audacity to play with my heart. I won't let him.

His eyes challenge me to say more, and as I part my lips to retort, his tongue meets mine. I can't deny that I hesitate, but he doesn't let go. I find myself kissing him back, drawn in despite my fury.

Fireworks erupt within me, and I feel myself melt into his embrace. His taste is exquisite, transporting me to other realms. Compared to that fleeting kiss in the bathroom, one I still replay in my mind, this one surprises me with its intensity—it's even better.

He moans softly as he pulls me closer, one hand on my hips, the other cradling my back. He possesses strength and tenderness that ignites a fire between us. I can feel his interest, but confusion grips me—why does he resist loving me? Am I so unworthy that he chooses to hide how he feels and instead hurt me?

"Am I still a vile and a repulsing narcissist, Juliet?"