Juliet & Romeo

3. Just Breathe.

Juliet

(The next day, at Juliet’s and Paris’s engagement party)

I stood in front of a full sized mirror, staring at myself with disappointment while Sara tied the last bow to my party costume dress. The dress was a birthday gift from my lovable grandma – my mother’s aunt to be exact. It was strapless and was made of crème-white silk with golden ribbons holding together my corset and also wrapping around the edges, with a skirt that fell just above my knees. The dress came with a pair of feather wings dusted with gold glitter, golden strapped high-heels and a glittery white-and-gold masquerade mask.

I knew that I looked stunning, but it wasn’t the reason why I stood there staring at my image with disbelieve. It was because my parents once again had done something to my life without my approval. They organised the masquerade ball for my engagement with Paris. They engaged me without my knowing! I found out that I was someone’s fiancée for over a week, just last night! And that my marriage is going to be in three days! And to Paris of all people! Argh, I hate being a Capulet. Most of the time.

Everyone in town knew that Paris was no better than any other man-whore, who would never pass an opportunity to screw any girl that threw herself at him. Seriously, that’s not what I wanted in my husband. Besides, if he marries me, he isn’t going to change. Why not? Because he’s rich, usually gets what he wants – and right now he wants the power and connections my parents have. I also know that he’s mean and sadistic.

I am so not marrying him.

He doesn’t even look very attractive. What do those girls see in him? Oh yeah, that’s right. He looks pretty much like Justin Bieber (complete with a girly voice). Paris is just a few years older than Justin.

Romeo isn’t like him at all. Now that I recall, the words tall, dark and handsome are the perfect words that fit his description. His hair was a dark unruly mess and was cut at perfect length to make him look more like a man than a boy, even though I knew he wasn’t so much older than me. His shirt was unbuttoned and showed the muscled chest dusted with dark hair and washboard abs. He was hot. And his eyes – oh those piercing emerald eyes that looked deep into my soul… Yesterday, I had to grip my gun to reminder myself that he is Romeo Montague, my enemy, and that I shouldn’t, could not fall under his charm, no matter how hot he is. No matter how much I wanted to.

“If only Paris was Romeo…” – Sara’s soft voice woke me up from my daydreams. Wait, what? Did she just…

“Did you just read my mind or something?” – I blinked, still dazed. “Oh, no!” – I exclaimed, realizing my mistake too late.

“I knew it! I knew it! You got hots for Romeo! Can’t say I blame you, he is hot! Sooo hot in fact…” – as always Sara went on and on about how hot Romeo is. I was relived a little that I wasn’t the only one, but at the same time I felt angry at Sara for noticing Romeo…He had noticed her too, after all. Do I feel…jealous? Oh no, no, no, this is bad, really, really bad.

Walking down the stairs I tried not to cringe at the thoughts that were swirling around in my mind. What am I doing? Marrying Paris?! No! Never… but neither Father nor Mother will listen…Will Romeo find out? And what if he does? It’s none of his business anyway... But I do wish it was… Stop it!!! He isn’t going to find out, and even if he does, there is no way he will care…I wish he did… No, no, no!!! He murdered your cousin, Juliet!! Stop thinking about him like that… Argh!!!

Breathe. Just breathe. Inhale, exhale.

Scanning through the crowd, my gaze stilled as I looked straight into piercing emerald eyes behind a silver-black mask… They were his eyes.

Inhale, exhale.

“There you are. I waited for you to come down. Come dance with me.” – The disgustingly familiar voice from behind me interrupted my thoughts. Turning around to face Paris, I growled under my breath “No way in hell.” Preparing to leave him standing there, I came face to face with my Father.

“Juliet.” – His voice was dripping with poison and rage, and his eyes were throwing daggers at me. He nodded at Paris, making his point clear: Go with him.

Inhale, exhale.

Oh hell! Fine then. Glaring at my Father’s back, I turned towards Paris, who has already wrapped his furry paws around my waist. Trying to keep my face expressionless, I put my hands on his shoulders and let him lead us to the dance floor. I cringed, knowing from experience that by the end of the dance, Paris will definitely bruise my toes. Argh!

Inhale, exhale.

As soon as the song ended, someone taped Paris on his shoulder.

“May I?” – said the voice that I have been dreaming about last night. His voice. Paris, being himself, squizzed my hand and waist tighter for a moment, to the point of hurting, then quickly let go of me, saying “I’ll see you later, love”, making me cringe.

Inhale, exhale.

Romeo’s gentle hands took the place of Paris’s cruel ones. I shivered, knowing clearly that it was not from cold, and definitely not from disgust.

“Cold?” – His whisper asked in my ear, his hot breath sending more shivers down my spine.

“N-no…” – I replied honestly, unable to think straight.

He’s a great dancer, I’ll give him that. Leaning onto his chest, I whispered into his neck “Thank you.”

“What for?” – How is it possible for his voice to get huskier?