Star-Crossed (12 page)

I won't be me.

I can't resist,

It's like your kiss,

It's murder.
”

 

You feel yourself letting go.
It's time to party, methinks.

You look over your shoulder. Rubes looks nervous again. He was scanning the crowd, but now his eyes have stopped travelling and he is transfixed – staring at the bar, where a guy dressed like a pirate is standing with a drink in his hand. The guy turns to the stage where Chaos is playing, giving you a view of his back…

Recognizing the cutest behind on earth, you nudge your buddy out of his trance and take his hand. It's clammy, and it grips yours tightly. You lean over and whisper in his ear.

“It's OK, Rubes, you'll do fine. He asked
you
out, remember? I'll see you later, OK?”

He nods, showing that he heard you, and saunters over to J, who beams sexily as Reuben meets him.

You pull your eyes away from Reuben and his date, and feel a shiver of excitement go through you. You realize your hips are swaying slightly to the beat. You make your way into the crowd, alone, and start to dance. It feels so good dancing with a few cute guys, but none of them are worth more than one song. You dance for a couple of hours, with some other girls and guys from your school (who, you suspect, were also let in by Steve), some more boys you don't know, and no one in particular. You're having a great time, not having to think about anything, anywhere, or
anyone
…

A song finishes. You applaud with everyone else, and realize that you are thirsty. You go to the bar to get yourself a drink, looking around for Rubes and J. They are nowhere to be seen.

Go, Reuben!

Waving over to the bargirl, you start to order a bottle of water, but see the shot glasses in the back and they start to call to you. You remember earlier at the bus stop, when Reuben turned to you, suddenly serious, and asked you not to drink tonight.

“
I'm worried about you, Jen. I don't want you to drink. I want you to look after yourself and have good, clean fun, OK? You don't need alcohol to have a blast. So promise me?
”

You had promised him, but you can see the bottles. They are staring at you.

Drink me.

You feel like Alice in Wonderland, or Eve with the apple. But you owe Reuben. The least you can do is keep your promise.

You grab your water and turn to look around the room. Your eyes flick past the door, but they spring right back to it when you recognize the person walking through it. Steve starts to look around the room.

He's trying to find me. I need to hide
…
you panic, but then someone walks in through the door and wipes it from your mind.

Madonna, aka Misha Reeves, has made her entrance. She's dressed in silver hot pants, a cone bra and knee-high boots, and wiggles her butt over to Steve's side. You watch his frowning face clear as she latches on to his side, distracting him from his search as her checks her out. She looks determined to have his attention, flicking her hair and stroking his arm, leaning in close to hear what he has to say and laughing hysterically when she hears it. She reaches up, whispering something in his ear. They disappear out of your sight. You feel yourself relax and smile.

Let's dance.

You duck down and make your way through the crowd to the thickest bit, and start to bop to the beat, dancing with yourself. Not for long.

You feel a pair of eyes on you. Next to you is a guy dressed all in black, with a long black cape. He's wearing a mask, like you, over the top half of his face, but you see his eyes lit with a fever, the music a fire in his soul. Those eyes captivate you for a second, their scorching heat burning you. He takes your hand in his gloved one, and pulls you a little closer. He smiles. It's familiar, that smile, but in the darkness you can't place it. You place your hands on his hips. He slides closer to you and sways his hips in time to the music, effectively swaying yours too. Your breath dries your mouth, as the two of you dance closer and closer. Your face is centimetres from his. You can see a slight sweat glisten on his forehead, and his eyes – those amazing eyes – lock on to yours. You can't pull away.

You are standing, hardly breathing, not hearing the deafening music, just staring into those eyes, lost. You lean forward those few extra centimetres and connect your lips with his. He hesitates first and then falls into the kiss. The place is empty. It's just you and this handsome stranger, intertwined in an embrace.

I know you…
you think.
I know that kiss…

You gently pull away, leaning your forehead against his, looking back into those eyes and knowing who he is. He leans into you too – breathing deeply, and silently asking you if you want to carry on.

I so want you
…
you think
. But it's not right, we're enemies, how can I do this…?

You bring up your hand and stroke the line of his jaw, up to where his mask starts.

“
Chris?
” you whisper.

He turns his head so his lips are at your ear. You close your eyes. His hot breath feels electric against your skin. He whispers something, but you don't quite catch it.

Your eyes flicker open, but he's gone. You turn a full circle, straining to see any sign of a cape. Nothing. Chris isn't anywhere near. The crowd bumps against you and you frown, confused.

Where did he go?
you think, touching your lips where he had been just seconds before.
And what did he say?
“I'm still your Romeo”?
What does
that
mean?

Suddenly, you feel far too hot, and way too claustrophobic. Your head spins, and you fall back a little into another girl.

“Hey! Watch it!” the girl cries.

You move away from her, pushing your way through the crowds to the back exit. On your way, your hand gets grabbed and you are pulled backwards by Kate Littleton, her face flushed from dancing with a hot guy from the year above. She leans over and shouts to you.

“I'd get out of here if I were you – Misha's on the warpath. Steve knocked her back to come and find you, and she's bitter as hell!”

You nod to show that you heard, but continue to push your way through the crowd. You need to get out, get into the night, into the fresh air. You reach the door and push it, but it doesn't budge.

“Stupid handle…” you mutter. But then you catch sight of the plaque that says, “Pull”, and you do just that.

You practically fall out on to the street, the warm breath rising quickly from your mouth into the pitch-black night. You immediately start to shiver. The door bangs shut behind you, leaving you alone in an alley beside the club, with a few rubbish bins for company. You take out your mobile phone and check the time. 12.17 a.m.

God, Rubes is gonna kill me…
you think fleetingly, before calling his phone and waiting for him to pick up. You can't think about Reuben for long, though. Your mind suddenly takes you back a few minutes to when Chris found you on the dance floor. You inhale sharply at the thought of his touch; shivering, but not from the cold.

What does this mean? What is he doing? What am I going to—

Your thoughts are interrupted when Rubes picks up the phone. He sounds worried. And a little pissed off.

“Where in hell are you, Jen? You were supposed to meet us at eleven thirty. Where have you been?”

You realize you don't have a good explanation.

“Tell me where you are and we will pick you up,” he hisses.

“Down the side alley near the band entrance,” you whisper into the receiver.

“Don't move,” Rubes sighs. “We'll be there in five.” You hear the dial tone as Rubes ends the call.

Oh God, I kissed Chris. Again!

“Here you are.”

A voice to your left makes you jump. You look up. The lust in the Steve Watts's eyes is apparent, and you realize you are alone and vulnerable. You come to your senses quickly.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I must have not seen you. It was very crowded in there, after all…” You stop mid-ramble.

“Well, I've got you here now. We're alone. Just what we wanted.”

He grins in what he thinks is an attractive way, but actually makes him look quite dumb and slightly creepy. He takes a step closer to you. You take a step back, closer to the wall.

“No, babe, don't turn away. Come to me and we can have a little” – he reaches out and runs his fingers up your arm so that you flinch with disgust – “
fun
.”

You find your voice beneath your fear. “Thanks, Steve, but … er … no thanks…” you mutter, your hands finding the clammy wall, as you inch towards the street at the end of the alley. “Reuben is waiting for me. I have to go now.”

You start to move, but Steve is clearly hoping for more. He moves in for a kiss.

You struggle with all your might, but since Steve is one of the best athletes to go to your school, as well as a part-time bouncer with large muscles, your attempts are useless.

You have to stop this now. “I said NO!”

“WHAT THE—”

A voice comes from the other end of the alley and you use the distraction to pull away from Steve, but he has already let go. The force of your pull causes you to fly back. Stars erupt in front of your eyes as your head connects with the ground with a sickening bump. A guy dressed all in black, wearing a cape and mask, sprints past you and after Steve, who is using his athletic training to run as fast as he can.

You're beginning to pick yourself up when the caped boy returns.

“You OK?”

You try to speak but find it difficult. You nod slightly. More footsteps echo in the alley. They quicken.

“HEY!” someone shouts angrily, rushing towards you. The whole world slants and your vision starts to fade away into black. The blue eyes are gone and replaced by Reuben's eyes – round and full of concern.

Your rescuer's voice floats into your head.

“It wasn't me… Watts, he … I heard her shout … I couldn't leave her … I've gotta go.”

Reuben's voice again.

“Wait, come back!”

Pause.

Another voice, also concerned and comforting.

“Let's get her back to yours, I'll drive…”

You walk into the rehearsal with Rubes holding your hand. You stayed at his after the club and woke up with a pounding head from your fall. Much as you try not to think about him, Chris's kiss won't leave your brain. When you think about it your heart rate picks up, and you have to concentrate very hard on not drooling.

It's like not knowing it was Chris suddenly made everything seem possible. His kiss cast a spell on me,
you think as you shuffle down the corridor to the hall, where you can hear people chatting, shouting and rehearsing.
And now I can't get him out of my head. This is getting out of hand.

It's one week to the play, so everyone is in a flurry of activity. Someone calls Rubes over to practise with them, and he squeezes your hand, then goes to join the other cast members. You smile at him and stride confidently over to Walker, who is rifling through a large yellow folder and muttering to herself.

“Hi!” you say.

She looks up and stares at you, confused.

Your confidence starts to fade at the blank look on the teacher's face.

“I'm here to do the lighting, remember?” you say nervously. You start to panic and feel stupid.
She obviously doesn't want you here. Go, go!
“Unless you don't want me to do it any more. I'll just leave…”

She smiles apologetically, patting her hand against her forehead.

“Of course! Sorry, Jen, I forgot you were doing the lights … things are so hectic … so little time, so much to do…”

You nod and follow her as she leads the way to the lighting room, which is a room to the right of the stage with a one-sided window – you can see out, but not in. You look feebly through the glass at the rehearsals going on on the other side. They all look so excited. Your smile slips. You can't help but feel left out, stuck in a little box away from it all, separated from the energized pleasure you could have had out there with them, enjoying the lead role.

“Here,” Walker says, dragging you from your thoughts by gesturing around the small room. It's got a big switchboard filled with buttons and tiny lightbulbs, two chairs and a table in the corner for drinks. “You remember what to do, right?”

You nod, smiling, as you look around the tiny room. You're sure that you can remember how everything works. You smile, glad that you are still contributing, even if it isn't the most ideal way to be part of the play.

Walker opens her folder, flicks through it hurriedly, and pulls out a copy of the script with a flourish. Its pages contain lighting cues and directions.

“This is your cue sheet – Miss Phillips wrote it up, so if you have any problems, ask her.”

You nod. “Thanks.” You put your bag down. “Should I fix the angles of the lights now?”

“That would be fantastic!” she exclaims, gesturing to the hall. “The ladder is in there already. Just be careful, OK?”

You follow her back to the hall and find the ladder. Walker saunters over to the stage, and starts to direct the people up there.

Chris and Misha are standing next to each other, about to do a scene. You push the ladder over to the lights left of the stage, and start to climb it. You listen to the lines. The scene … it's THE scene …
your
scene…

Oh God…

You realize that you are staring into space, so you shake your head and carry on climbing.

 

“
If I profane with my unworthiest hand

This holy shrine, the gentle fire is this
…”

 

You listen to Chris talk, his voice deep and earnest. You shut your eyes, his voice like a drug that you can't get enough of; sweeter than honey.

What am I thinking?! His voice is like honey?! What am I doing?!
You shake your head again.
He is just an ordinary boy! One that you
hate
, if you've forgotten,
you think to yourself, as you descend the ladder to move it to another light.
Just look at him. Look at him and you will see everything you loathe. Take one look.

You are a few metres off the ground, and turn your head up from the floor to look at Chris's face.

Oh my God…

His face is like an angel's. Everything from the way his lips curve as he smiles, to the crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he laughs – amazingly beautiful. Your eyes travel from his chin to his lips, nose, cheeks, eyes – those scorching, stunning blue eyes…

Oh my GOD!

Your right foot slips on the ladder and it crashes down at your feet.

“AHHHH!”

You stumble sideways, straight into Chris, who catches you before you hit the ground alongside the ladder.

“You OK?” he says huskily.

You look deeply into his eyes, your own squinting slightly. His face is full of concern. He is amazing. He's handsome. He's everything you've ever wanted. But hated. A stray thought enters your mind before you can stop it.

I love you, Chris…

Your whole body jumps, and you pull yourself out of Chris's strong grip. You glare at him. He glares right back.

“Yeah,” you say. You clear your throat and straighten your jacket. “I'm fine, thanks.”

“Shame,” he replies quietly, and goes back on to the stage.

You smile, reassuring Walker and the others that you are fine, but you just need to splash your face with cold water.

You get to the bathroom and look at yourself hard in the mirror.

“You. Are. Messed. Up,” you murmur to your harassed reflection. “You. Have. Screwed. Everything. Up. He doesn't like you! He
hates
you, remember?!” You feel tears in your eyes. “Why couldn't he be someone else? Why couldn't he be anyone except my enemy? He will never like me the way I like him.”

Your lip trembles. The first tear rolls down your cheek.

“I'm so screwed.”

You lean back against the wall and sink to the ground. Your shoulders sag and you cry like you never have before. You're crying your heart out.

“
My only love sprung from my only hate…
”

Shakespeare didn't know how right he was.