You're Not Enough

Chapter 21

We've switched seats now. He's sitting on my bed, and I'm sitting at my desk. I texted Violet back, telling her that he was here. She freaked out, of course, and then turned it into something it was not.

I told her I would call when he leaves, which I am now wondering when he will leave?

He's been on his phone this whole time; he hasn't said anything. He's probably thinking that I'm going to do all this work by myself, which I'm not. I would if I knew what to write. This is harder than I expected it to be.

I have read Romeo and Juliet several times, Ive seen all the movies and the remakes to those movies, so I don't know why it's so hard for me to recreate my own story. Well, I do know why I've never been in love, so how can I write about it?

"Have you even read Romeo and Juliet before?" I ask the mute boy sitting on my bed.

"No, but Ive seen the play," he says while still fixated on his phone.

"You? At a play." I tried to suppress the laugh that's building my stomach.

"I was there against my will," he explains, that makes more sense. "I hate plays."

"Well, I love them," I say back, defending the beautiful masterpiece ones before us put on for entertainment.

"Good to know." he rolls his eyes and looks back at his phone.

"So, what did you get from it?" I ask him. Was he paying attention to the play he claims to have seen? Just because he was there against his will doesn't mean he was paying attention.

I wonder if it was Ashely who forced him to go. She is in the drama club.

"Nothing." He scoffs."It was the stupidest thing Ive ever seen. Again, what boy in their right mind would kill themselves over a bitch?" he continues.

I scrunch my face at his remark. " Well bitch is a female dog; I'm positive Juliet wasn't a dog," I say sarcastically. "I'm sure Romeo didn't view her like that. So your right. He didn't kill himself over a bitch; he killed himself over someone he loved." I correct his derogatory statement. "He loved her, so obviously she wasn't a bitch in his eyes." I fire back. Thats not what you call someone you love.

He put his phone to the side and narrows his eyes at me. "And what do you know about love?" he asks, challenging me. He has the sneakiest smirk on his face.

I don't know anything about love. I only know what Ive seen in movies and from what I have read in some books. Im sure none of the things I have retained about love from fictional things is accurate.

From what Ive seen in real life, love is nothing like the fairytale way they show in movies and books. And love is not the extreme toxic relationship Hollywood loves to display.

"Do you really have no thought on what we should do for the first chapter?" I ignore his question; it's getting late. I don't want to spend more time with him than I have to.

"No, why don't you? Arent you supposed to be a fantastic writer?" He says, emphasizing the word 'writer.'

Who did he hear that from? "Yeah, well, I'm not. And no, I don't know what to write, obviously. If I knew what to write, trust me, I wouldn't be asking you." I roll my eyes and turn around back to the table.

...

"Ok, maybe we have been going about this wrong. We need to make a story without our Romeo and Juliet without our Montagues and Capulets?"

"What?" He says, narrowing his eyes clearly confused.

"We need to figure out our characters, our two sides. I don't want to use Montague and Capulets. We need something different."