Romeo and British

𝟏: 𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

"You have trust issues, not paranoia."

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𝐌𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 solemnly in my hands as I endured the intense conversation my best friend and her boyfriend were having in my kitchen. My kitchen. They couldn't argue in her's because her parents weren't aware of her relationship and they could ague in his because.... well I didn't know and due to that fact, I was stuck right in the middle of it.

"Are you kidding me?" My best friend held her hands up in exaggeration, as she stared daggers at her now dead boyfriend.

"No, it was one night, coach needed me to stay and practise, we have game on--" He tried to speak, but it wasn't working for Maeve who seriously looked like she would have murdered him if I wasn't there.

Which was the precise reason I was there. To stop her from strangling him or as she put it, having contact.

"You stood me up, Will. Okay, the damn waitress gave me a shit amount food to make me feel better. Feel better." She was yelling now, and the only thing left in my mind was the fact that she was going to include me in her plan of revenge. That was the 'given' I had in life.

"You know, as much as I love..." I stopped at the identical death stare both of them were sending me, "No, and I mean I adore being a third wheel," Continuing, I put my hands up in surrender in case they had the idea of shouting at me next, "I'm not the biggest fan of you shouting in my kitchen. The room that holds knives." I smiled, eagerly raising my eyebrows trying to calm them both down.

This wasn't their first fight and it certainly won't be their last, especially as the fight of whether to tell Maeve's parents about them was still going on.

"Now," Will turned towards me, giving me a look at made any form of a sarcastic comeback disintegrate from my brain, "you can shut up Hermione Granger, because we don't need your English input."

I glared back, chucking the empty Cadbury's packet I was eating from, at his face before getting up and walking out. If she straggled him, I wouldn't able to stop it anyway, she was stronger and taller than me and had that head strong mind set.

The fact that he didn't know any other British person, let alone fictional character to compare me to was more embarrassing for him, than his insult was to me. Which meant that backfired. Twat.

Will was tall and looked a bit like how I imagined Gilbert Blythe to look when I read Anne of Green Gables. He had a strong physique, with muscles probably gained from going to the gym in his free time as well as from playing basketball for a considerable amount of his life. His eyes were a rough dark brown; solid with no light reflecting off them, even in the heights of Oregon summer. His hair wasn't black but, like his eyes, was a dark brown, almost black, like half of his hair was covered with a shadow. It was curly and flopped over his forehead slightly, giving him an attractive look. He was attractive and maybe if I got to know him better, I wouldn't think of him as just a pretty face and stale soul.

My house was like no-man's land. That meant they could both shout at each other, or have a discussion, without someone getting a greater advantage, but seeing as Maeve was my best friend, the odds were still in her favour.

Maeve, or should I say Anne Shirley, was an opinionated red head -ironic-, and also the only person who knew everything about me, other than my brother. She could turn from a immature 5 year old, to the most loyal demon from hell, in a matter of minutes if you said the wrong thing. Her problem was, she was desperate for boyfriend, like any other 17 year old girl and that was her down fall because no boy she went out with was 'right' and I was stuck with her after the break up watching a black and white romantic movie eating chocolate ice-cream, with strawberries and cream.