Marty McFly imagines!

Do You Bite Your Thumb At Me, Sir?

PART TWO

You both tried to fight Strickland's decision with tooth and nail, but ended up begrudgingly accepting it because you knew Marty would hate it and Marty knew you would hate it. It was an interesting paradox. Not exactly as interesting as some of the paradoxes Marty had experienced in his lifetime, but it was certainly going to keep him on his toes.

It had been a while since the two of you had fought as rivals, or even given each other a grimace in the hallways, but that didn't mean that you couldn't get back into the rhythm of things. It gave everyone grief. The drama teacher actually cried in front of Strickland, begging him to let them get rid of Marty, but he wouldn't budge. And so he stayed, questioning his lines every chance he got ("You mean he's just standing outside her window like that? Without her knowing? Well that's just creepy!"), and refusing to be any closer to you than he had to be. You, on the other hand, were right there arguing with him every time he made a comment ("He wanted to see her again! Are you actually telling me that you've never done something like that because of a girl?"), which set off a whole new chain of yelling and screaming. Almost every day at least one person was going home with a headache.

In fact, the only thing that you two could agree on was the kiss. The school had cut down on the play so that there was only one kiss in the show, but every time someone brought it up, both of you would change the subject. This particularly got the attention of everyone else, who thought it was interesting that you two were avoiding the topic rather than shouting something like, "There's no way I'm kissing him/her!"

You had both thought about it extensively, and while you both denied it profusely, the reason you didn't yell something like that at the other was because it would be a lie.

It frustrated Marty the way he sometimes caught himself thinking about kissing you, which only made him hate you more. You were the same way, and you gritted your teeth every time his hand rubbed the back of his neck in that cute way that you despised, every time his tongue slid over his bottom lip when he spoke in that way that you loathed, every time he stumbled over his words, filling the gaps with 'ah's and 'uh's in a way that was somehow attractive and charming and that made you want to wring his neck with that stupid calculator watch that he was always wearing.

But currently you were standing on the stage-prop balcony trying not to think of all these things while reciting your "Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo" in perfect iambic pentameter. While you did most of your lines by memory, Marty read his off of the script. Honestly, the drama teacher was just happy he wasn't complaining as much anymore. Things went well for a little while longer, but when they got to the part where Romeo reveals himself to Juliet, the drama teacher interrupted.

"Marty, why don't you try climbing up the balcony at this part? There's stairs at the side, so it won't be too hard. It'll be easier to do the kiss if you're up there."

Both of you blanched and turned towards the drama teacher.

"But we cut out the kiss at this part. The only kiss we kept isn't until the wedding scene," you said.

"Yes, well, I decided it was important enough to add it back in," the drama teacher replied. "Okay, so Marty, if you could go up-?" She gestured to the stage-prop balcony. You gripped the edges of the balcony as you waited for his reaction. Obviously you expected him to refuse, but the second he saw the look in your eyes like you knew exactly what he was going to do next, he did the opposite. He climbed up the stairs on the side of the stage-prop balcony until you would be close enough to bend down and kiss him, or he would be close enough to reach up and kiss you.

Marty took out the script in his back pocket and continued. They went on reciting lines until the part where the Nurse calls Juliet to come back inside and there is supposed to be a kiss goodnight.

Neither one of you moved to do anything.

"This is where the kiss is!" the drama teacher called up.

Still no movement. Both of your gazes were on anything else but each other. The drama teacher sighed loudly.

"People! We are not in Junior High! I don't care if you two hate each other; it is just a kiss! We have to rehearse this! Someone! Please do something!"

"Oh, for the love of-" You grabbed the collar of Marty's shirt with both hands, half bent over, pulled him up the rest of the way, and then pressed your lips to his with a sharp tug. Marty's wide eyes could rival Doc Brown's if you could believe it. He flailed for a few seconds before finding his footing on a higher step, climbing up until he was your height, and effectively, though not purposely, increased the pressure between your lips. In response, your grip on his collar tightened and his eyes slid closed. Marty's lips were softer than you'd imagined (not that you've imagined what his lips felt like) and they tasted like the Pepsi he drank before they started. The longer the kiss lasted, the more you both started to panic because the longer the kiss lasted the more you both started to realize how much you were liking it.

You let go off his collar and your lips separated when you heard the distinct sound of clapping. The drama teacher was standing up, smiling.

"That was beautiful, you two!"

Suddenly feeling the weight of the situation, Marty clumsily missed a step and teetered backwards, falling off of the stage-prop balcony. It was a short fall, the balcony wasn't that high, but he landed with a loud THUD and a following groan.

"Well, uh," the drama teacher started, "I guess that's it for rehearsal today."