You're Not Allowed To Fall in Love With Me (COMPLETED)

Chapter 9

Roman sighed and ran his hand through his hair. English was so difficult at GCSE level. Of course he had to take it, he had no choice, but he wished that Shakespeare would use words he could actually understand.

"God, I hate Shakespeare." He muttered to himself, reading the text over once again but drawing no more knowledge from it. Eventually, he gave up and raised his hand for help.

"What is it, Mr Winston?" The teacher asked.

"I'm really stuck, sir. Can I please get some help?" Roman asked, slightly embarrassed. The teacher tapped his pencil against his chin as he looked around the classroom.

"I think Mr Summers is finished." He said finally. "Mr Summers, could you help Mr Winston with his work?"

"Yes sir." Virgil muttered, standing up and walking over to where Roman sat. The normal quiet buzz of the classroom resumed. "What d'you need help with?"

"I don't get it."

"All we have to do is work out the meaning." Virgil said, pointing to the different words with his pen. "For example, 'That my keen knife not see the wound it makes'. What d'you think that means?"

"Um... the knife's keen as in it's bloodthirsty?" Roman guessed. Virgil nodded slowly.

"That could be interpreted as one of the meanings. The great thing about Shakespeare is that there aren't really any right answers. You interpret it how you see it."

Roman nodded and reached for his pen, his hand accidentally nudging Virgil's. Virgil snatched his hand away, feeling tiny electric currents travel up his arm.

"Oh sorry. Are you okay?" Roman asked, clicking his pen.

"Yeah. Just an electric shock."

***

Virgil ran into his room at the end of the day and threw himself face-first onto his bed. He rubbed the spot where Roman's hand had brushed his and growled in confusion, the sound muffled by his pillow. It had just been an electric shock, he knew that. Had Roman felt it too?

Virgil shook away this thought and sat up, listening for the lock to click downstairs. His mum had finally found time to pick Issac up so Virgil was off the hook. Grabbing his notebook and headphones, Virgil went to sit in the attic, writing down all the notes he had recorded in his head from school today.

Looking down, Virgil grinned as he saw his mum and Issac, two black and brown specks on the pavement below. Virgil's house was an old Victorian structure and very tall. The roof was slanted but flat enough so that Virgil could climb out the sky-light and sit on it if he wanted. He sat on the roof regularly. The Wi-Fi was surprisingly good, meaning he could listen to music all he wanted.

His mind wandered back to Roman and how odd it was that he was being nice to him. England was a very rainy, cold country and people did not just lend other umbrellas when it was bucketing it down without a good reason. What was Roman's? Roman was a very odd boy. Popular and with the right build for a sporty kid but he loved drama. He was a thespian through and through. It puzzled Virgil. The seven groups Virgil had assigned his school never really mixed. Roman was a special case. He'd started as just your regular drama kid, if a little more handsome, and then moved on to better groups.

Virgil could puzzle over Roman for hours if he wanted. But he didn't. Roman wasn't worth puzzling over, Virgil told himself. He was just the same as he's always been. Arrogant, egotistic and self-centred. And he would never change.