"What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason, how infinite in faculty! In form and moving how express and admirable! In action how like an angel, in—"
Cora stopped. Looking back down at her script, at the words she had read over and over and over again yet somehow seemed unable to stick in her brain. She knew this would happen. She hated Shakespeare, and she hated the fact that her classmates didn't care about that.
She was still chosen to play in it. And to make it worse, she was playing as Hamlet.
The fucking man in the title. Everyone was expecting her to act the best out of all as a man. That was more than twice the work of the others.
"This is exactly why I volunteered to be in charge of the lighting," Cora muttered, her fingers skimming over the paper, tempted to just rip it in half but held in the urge just because she didn't want another hour standing in front of her printer, staring at the newly printed ink until her eyes began to hurt. She took a deep breath.
"What a piece of work is a ma—"
"What are you doing?"
As cliche as it was, in that short second she felt as if she was taken back to the past.
It was a voice she had been trying her hardest to forget. The one she, deep down, knew she missed a hell lot but her brain wasn't letting her to.
So she stopped like he was just some other passerby, lowering her script slowly until it rested on top of her lap. "Practicing."
She forced herself to remain calm even when Pierson Wood sat down on the spot next to hers.
"Another play?" He was still the same as he was the last time they were face to face, hair messy and eyes tired and still smelled (comfortingly, if she were to be honest) of sandalwood—only, this time, he didn't reek of tobacco.
That small difference was enough to make her feel like they were strangers.
"Yeah," she answered curtly.
"What is it this time?"
She hated the way he could act so nonchalant.
"It's . . . Hamlet. Shakespeare." Why her fingers were shaking, she had no idea. She had no reason to be nervous.
After all, he was the one who cheated.
Pierson leaned back onto the tree, unintentionally shifting closer until their arms brushed lightly. Cora moved away almost immediately.
"I thought you hated him," he noticed that Cora had created a new distance between them, but he turned away like he didn't care. That small gesture annoyed Cora. She wanted him to look sad, to feel much guiltier. But she of all people must've known that he wasn't one to show such emotions. "You were always complaining every time your class did a play based on his works."
"Why are you here?"
He was silent. Not letting away any signs that he was affected by her question, instead shrugged like talking to her was something he did everyday.
Like it was fucking normal to strike up a conversation after practically telling her that she was, simply, was not enough.
"Okay, then," her head was pounding and her hands are shaking and then she was seeing red, feeling like she was a second away from swearing him to hell. And then she was already gathering all her things, clutching them hard enough to make her forget the urge to slap him across his stupid face.
To hurt him, somehow.
Just as she was about to stand up, he finally opened his mouth. "Where are you going?"
Cora didn't answer. She stood up to her full height, fully determined to go far away from him, and if possible, avoid him. No more curious glances in the hallway, no more conversations with his friends, and no more irritating coincidences in the classes they had together—times when they had to sit next to each other or that one time they were partners in a History project.
And she walked away, cursing herself for feeling even a little bit disappointed that he didn't make an effort to make her stay.
2
Lauren was her best friend.
Out of all people, it just had to be her. Cora had always wished that she had never ever introduced the two of them, because that way Pierson wouldn't have realized how much prettier Lauren was compared to Cora, and they would've never had the chance to have a moment alone together.
But she knew that no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn't hide the amazing little things about Lauren from Pierson. Everyone who knew her was bound to find out, and sadly, he was one of them.
Little did he know that her best friend was her biggest insecurity.
That was the thing that hurt her more than it should have. She had always known that Lauren was better than her in any ways, but knowing that someone else agreed stung. So right now, she only had herself to blame.
She shouldn't have ever felt curious at the growing closeness between Lauren and Pierson. She shouldn't have ever confronted Pierson about this, because maybe, maybe, that was the trigger. She shouldn't have been mad enough to make a distance between her and the both of them, because she could bet that it was then that their friendship grew. She shouldn't have been angry at all, because deep down, she knew that it was bound to happen all along.
But still, it crushed her—especially when she went through Pierson's phone when she had the chance, and when she found the never-ending conversations between the two of them.
That was the moment when she had hoped the thing they had going on was purely physical. That way, she was sure that she could have handled it better. But no. It wasn't physical.
