*A/N: Hi y'all! Yes, I know it's been forever. Sowys! Um, please don't kill me, but Mercutio isn't gonna be in this. Exactly. Um . . . yeah, Mercutio is now Meredith . . . Maybe it's too much. But, I mean, I didn't want it to be exactly the same . . . And actually, I haven't decided what to do about Benvolio yet. Tybalt . . . well he seems wonderful now . . .*
Chapter 4
When we got inside, everyone and everything went silent. Everyone had gotten word that Romeo and I were there together--and that we had taken a limo with Paris and Gaby, who had walked in ten or fifteen minutes earlier. Then, most surprising of all, we had walked in holding hands, neither of us in more than one piece.
Tybalt and his date, Meredith, walked over to us, grinning. I glared at Tybalt, who was glancing at Romeo, our hands, and me alternately. Then I glanced at Romeo, who couldn't help grinning.
"Oh shut up, Tybalt," I said, smiling--however unwillingly.
Eventually, everyone at least tried to forget that we were enemies--including us--and it was the best prom ever--according to the whole senior class.
Early the next morning, we had to call it quits. We dropped off Paris and Gaby, then began the short ride home. Suddenly, Romeo pushed the button to bring down the divider. (A/N: I have no idea what that thingy's called. :) You know, the little window thing that you bring down to talk to the driver guy?)
"Hold up a sec," he told the chauffeur.
When I looked at him questioningly, he said, "Do you wanna go to the beach?"
I stared at him for a second or two while I tried to process everything that was going through my mind. None of which is necessarily necessary to explain.
"Sure, but in this?" I asked, gesturing to my dress and shoes.
"Well, we don't have to swim. And you can take your shoes off in here before we get out."
So we did. We walked along the beach, talking about our lives that were lived separately, but together. He told me the real stories behind his pranks, how he never liked the way he acted. But everyone else did, and it was hard to change once you got started. He told me of his secret dream of acting, and that he'd never told anyone the things he'd just told me. Then he asked me if I might ever consider going on another date with him. Willingly.
I told him the real stories behind my "hating" him, and how I knew exactly what he meant about not liking the way he acted. I told him I'd always wanted to act or sing, too, and that I'd never told anyone all of those things either. I also said that I would definitely consider going on a date with him. Very, very willingly. But only if he was himself.
He smiled. Sigh . . .
