'Journey's end in lovers meeting, every wise man should know this." I scoff at this, running my hands down the gold leafed pages of the book. The words 'Twelfth Night' glittered, though faded. I shut my play, knowing that Mrs. Baterman will enter soon. My other classmates languidly find their seats, scattered around the room. By the time the class should start, our teacher is nowhere to be found.
The excitement among my classmates in palpable; they look back and forth to each other, confirming their sudden good luck. I, on the other and, don't share their joy. Shakespeare is where I thrive, and I've been waiting to immerse myself in his plays all day. It's funny; my mother always pegged me as a romantic. 'Riley, my boy, you've got that look in your eyes. That look when you're somewhere else, with someone else.' She was right, but I'd never admit to it. Having these illusions about a life I could have with someone isn't the manliest thing. But it's better than admitting I've had a total lack of that since, well, forever.
It's then that the quick turning of the doorknob breaks me from my tangent, as well as settling the rest of the class. My teacher rushes in, flustered.
"Sorry class!" She huffs out, propping open the door. "Everyone take out Twelfth Night-hope you're finished act two!" She drops her bags with a loud 'plop' onto the scratched, old wooden desk, and then pauses turning back around. Her eyes go to the hallway them, and out the door.
"Come in sweetie!" She smiles? "They don't bite."
And then she was there.
She entered the room like a doe, weary about exploring the woods for the first time. Her eyes were bright, pools of light blue, and wide with wonder. Her pale skin was burdened only by the sprinkling of freckles on her cheeks. And her hair, a deep amber, fell easily on her slim neck and shoulders.
She was perfect.
"Class, this is Cassandra-,"
"Cassie." She quickly corrected.
"Right, Cassie Giacomo. Her family just moved here from London, and she's getting acquainted with the school. Let's all say hello, yes?"
"Hello Cassie." Came out jumbled and different forms from the class.
Everything seemed to calm them. As we began to explore the loves lives of Shakespeare's puppets, I pondered one with a new subject, Cassie. I couldn't stop, but I had to. I kept my head down till the bell saved me.
Rushing out, I held my breath in anxiousness as I passed her. But someone bumped into me, hard, and the books in my hands went flying. I paused, staring at them on the ground.
"Need some help?" I looked up, in a sort of daze. I managed a 'yeah'.
"This school is so big." She began, I, nearly shaking, began hastily picking up my scattered supplies. Again, I mumbled a yeah.
"Um," She said, handing me my books. "Do you think you could show me where my next class is?" I stuffed the books into my backpack. "It's Spanish, in,…B105?" She stopped, as I had stopped responding.
"Oh, yeah sorry. Yeah." I lead her out into the hallway and covered the several steps to get her to the classroom.
"Already here? Wow." She giggled. It was adorable. "I should hire you as my personal tour guide.
` And I don't know where it came from, but I blurted out "I could show you around town one night!" Stupid Riley, stupid Riley, I screamed at myself, mentally.
"You free tonight?" Her words surprise me, to say the least. Am I free? Is she-accepting? I can't believe-I should answer!
"Tonight? Yeah, yeah I'm free tonight!"
"Great! Meet you at…" She looked at me, confused.
"Could you find 'La Bella Italia?" I ask
"Yeah, but would you mind a late dinner? I'm afraid I'm still on London time."
"That's perfect." The bell almost interrupts me. She smiles as she waves goodbye and quickly enters the classroom. It's amazing.
I walk away, enamored by her eyes, her smile and the fact that I'm seeing her, tonight.
I cough as I inhale the thick scent of my cologne. I think I put too much on. Luckily, the smell of the grease from the kitchen is covering it up.
I glance at my watch. It's a minute past nine.
My immediate thought is that she isn't coming. I'm the product of a family who doesn't say the word proud too often, and I certainly don't know the word confidence. SO I've always assumed the worst in myself, as there usually wasn't someone there to tell me otherwise.
So why would she show?
The clock becomes a personal TV screen. It's a whole thirty minutes before the waitress finally approaches.
"I don't think she's coming." She sounds more like my mom telling me my dog died. I just nod. She tells me I've got to order something, or that they'll give my table away.
I order a salad.
It takes me two hours to eat it. And she's still not there by the time I pop the last tomato into my mouth.
I leave right before closing. It's a little while after eleven, and the bell that chimes as the door closes behind me seems to laugh at my misfortune.
I drag my feet, walking towards home. It's chilly out, but my jacket keeps me warm. I'd rather it be keeping her warm.
And then I see her. She's walking ahead, far ahead, but her amber hair is reflecting in the dim light of the street.
"Cassie!" I yell out. I'm running now, sprinting to get to her. She stops, but she doesn't turn around. I'm catching up to her, I'm on the same block.
And then she turns.
Its her eyes that hit me first. They're red, unnaturally red. And cold. Icy cold.
"I'm not Cassie lover boy." But then she smiles, her face warming. "But you look like you could use some company?"
So when she took my hand, I let her.
And when I kissed her at the end of the night, she let me.
"So," I say, a little over confident. "You free this weekend? We could go to the park-"
"I just need you to do one thing for me first." She takes my hand.
Before I had the chance to respond, she pulled me in, her teeth hitting my neck.
And she bit.