Act 2, Scene 7

Julien was in my English class when I walked in. Sitting on my seat in the back, he talked to a few of the girls with a wide grin painted across his face. Then, as I approached, his eyes zoned in on me. My cousin's beanie was a luminous yellow today and I hated it.

"Lottie!" He jumped up. I eyed Julien warily. Neither of us had spoken since the argument. When I didn't answer though, his large smile dropped slightly. It was almost unnoticeable but I saw.

"This isn't your class," I spoke slowly.

As the teacher had yet to arrive, students sat on tables and messed around with the papers left out. They talked loud enough so that Julien and my voices would go unheard and I was glad for it. I couldn't guarantee that the girls he'd left weren't eavesdropping, though.

"I came to see you." Julien extended his arms out into an exaggerated shrug as though it were the most obvious thing.

"Well, listen," he began. "Since Christmas is coming up, I've decided to forgive you for what you said. Do you forgive me too?"

I snorted and walked to my seat by the window. "As if."

He crouched in front of my desk to get eye level, I refused to meet his gaze though. "Aw, come on Lottie. Gran would be so pissed if we're arguing during Christmas dinner."

I didn't respond, only grabbed my notebook from my bag and placed it on the desk in front of me, ready for the lesson to begin.

He huffed. "I know you don't like what I said but I still stand by it. Khaleel's...weird."

I kept my eyes down and allowed the strands of my hair to come forward and be used as a barrier between Julien and me.

"Stop ignoring me," he whined while dragging out the words like a child. "Whenever I want you to shut up, you don't. But now that I'm asking you to talk, you won't." Julien sounded beyond frustrated by now and I smiled inwardly. Good, I wanted him to feel annoyed because I was too.

He grabbed my pencil case and dropped the contents onto the table as my pens and pencils fell to the floor and scattered in front of me. Still, I didn't give a reaction. I knew he wanted one and I wouldn't do it.

He wrote stupid phrases on a blank piece of my notebook with a smirk, expecting my explosion like usual but I didn't give in. I was proud of myself. Instead, I kept my eyes to the window, only flickering my gaze to what he was doing every other second when I knew he wasn't watching me.

Finally, he gave in with a deep sigh. He got up to his full height and walked away. Just as I was about to breathe a sigh of relief, a shoe was thrown at my desk, bouncing against the window and just narrowly missing my face to settle on the paper in front of me on the desk.

I snapped my head around to see Julien still stood in the classroom, looking guilty and wearing only one shoe. I jumped to my feet and his eyes flickered with satisfaction that he'd finally gotten a rise out of me.

"That's it!" I grabbed his shoe and pushed the window open beside me. The wind whistled roughly and so powerfully that my hair rustled. I extended my arm and dangled his shoe by its laces above the puddle littered, soggy grass outside.

His eyes widened and he gasped. "Wow! Lottie, please don't do that. You know my dad will kill me if I mess up these shoes. Remember when I scuffed my last pair? It was like I'd killed a kid." He approached me slowly, as though I were a wild animal he was trying to tame.

The wind swung the shoe back and forth outside and I saw his chest rise and fall with panicked breaths. "Let's speak about this like mature adults, yeah?"

"You threw your bloody shoe at me!" I exclaimed. "That's not very mature, Julien."

"I was only trying to apologise!"

"And I told you to bugger off but you wouldn't."

He lifted his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. Now, give me back my shoe."

I saw the urgency in his eyes and gave in. As I was about to retract my hand, he spoke up again. "God, you're dramatic."

I paused. "I'm dramatic?! You're the one crying over getting your shoes dirty!"

"Fucking hell, Charlotte. Your behaviour makes me glad I called your dad, now."

Then, I dropped the shoe. It landed with a splash down below and Julien paled.

"Mr Monet, what are you doing in my class? Shoeless, no less," my English teacher asked my cousin, seeming amused and curious.

He didn't answer, just pointed weakly to the window where everyone who was watching the great Monet cousin argument had witnessed me drop his shoe.

"Dead," he mumbled under his breath. It was so softly and so feebly that I almost didn't catch it. I raised my eyebrow in question.

His eyes darted from the window to mine and his cheeks blossomed red. "You're dead!" Then, he lunged.

It wasn't rare that we fought but considering the circumstances, it was unwise of him to be shouting death threats for everyone to hear. His fingers didn't even graze me before one of his friends held him back.

"You know my dad will come to get me! You knew and you still phoned him! You knew, you knew, you knew. How could you?!" I exclaimed. It was a betrayal.

"Screw the promise I made," he called sharply to me. "I don't care what I told Henri. You're on your own." Shoeless and fuming, Julien hobbled out of the classroom and it all went quiet.

I knew he was joking and I knew he didn't mean it. We were cousins, we'd spent most of our life living in the same house. I knew most definitely that he didn't mean it. Yet, it still hurt.

X X X

Khaleel met me outside after school that day as I was on the bench. It was one of the nicer days, which meant that the wind had tamed and the rain had cowered. Still, the chill pierced through the atmosphere like a knife and caused goosebumps to align across my skin.

"I heard that you and Julien argued again," he frowned.

I shrugged and reached into the pocket of my jacket to retrieve the flask from inside. It was a bit too empty for my liking but I unscrewed the cap and brought it to my lips. I hadn't drunk as much lately, my head felt somehow clear enough that I didn't need the alcohol. Except, after that fight with Julien today, when he looked so deep into my eyes that I flinched, I felt my throat was dry all of a sudden. I craved that reassurance that only my flask could've provided.

Khaleel grabbed my wrist before I tipped my head back.

"You shouldn't drink so much," he scowled. My heart skipped a beat and the wind brushed against my cheeks.

"Have you eaten anything today?" Khaleel asked, looking down at my stomach. "I have a sandwich in my bag if you'd like."

I shook my head no but didn't open my mouth. I pulled my grasp away from his and returned the flask back to my jacket before tucking my trembling hands under my things. As the wind whipped my brown hair around my rosy cheeks, I looked down at my black oxford shoes as they tapped against the cobblestone.

"Are you okay?" He asked softly and gently tucked my hair behind my ear so that the barrier between us was broken momentarily. I glanced up at him through my lashes and for a second, just a single brief second, I wanted to cry.

I wasn't sure what for or why now but the feeling was so overwhelming and palpable that I could practically feel it like a hand clutching at my heart.

"I'm fine," I bit out, trying to ignore the feeling of the whole sky falling down on me.

"You know you can talk to me," Khaleel smiled crookedly. "As I said, you don't always have to be strong."

"I'm fine," I repeated, getting increasingly more frustrated with myself more than anything.

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks," Khaleel recited calmly.

At his words, something struck in me. I rose to my feet with a huff and patted down my skirt. I turned my back to him and breathed deeply. It felt as though a knot was stuck in my throat and I swallowed harshly to get it to leave. My eyes burned, my chest heaved but I refused to cry. Not a single tear.

A hand was placed on my shoulder as Khaleel pulled me to face him. It was obvious from the raise of his eyebrow that he was expecting a snot-nosed girl to turn to face him. Instead, my lips pulled into a thin line and I refused to meet his eyes.

"You're upset," he whispered.

"You have a good eye," I muttered while rolling my own.

"Two, actually," he responded with a lopsided grin. Without another word, he pulled me to his chest with a strong hand to the back of my head and tangled into my hair. He softened down the frizz as I breathed his familiar scent. I wasn't good with hugs, so I patted his back carefully while my other arm tensed beside me awkwardly.

My face was stuck in a wince but Khaleel didn't seem to notice the way my body reacted to touch, he just kept me close. And, as the moments passed with his gentle embrace and smooth words, I slowly and unknowingly relaxed until my body leaned into his.

He pulled away, only slightly, and cupped my face. Khaleel was handsome, with his soft eyes and a small smile, and my heart sped up just a fraction. This new perspective of Khaleel made me feel dizzy and I tried to not let my knees buckle under the pressure of his stare.

"You have witchcraft in your lips," he whispered against my own and swooped down.

It was soft at first, just skin pressed against skin before it spiralled. My mind fogged with all the memories I could have grabbed ahold of, but none at the same time. I could barely breathe or think or stand - only feel. I felt his rough hands on my cheeks, holding me up. I felt the rush of wind, the stammer of my heart and the warmth that rushed through every cell in my body as his lips claimed my own.

Then, when I threw my fingers through the soft curls of his black hair, my rings didn't get caught in the strands. They glided through perfectly and the butterflies in my stomach swarmed.

I couldn't control the shudder that tore through my spine and suddenly it hit me full force and a feeling of unease dropped down on me like an ice-cold bucket of water.

I shoved his hands from me and watched as he stumbled backwards with flushed cheeks and wide eyes.

"D-don't touch me!" I spluttered weakly, trying to look strong.

"Charlie-" Khaleel began but I cut him off.

"I can't...I can't kiss you. I can't be with you like that. Have you seen me lately? I can't- I can't do that."

He tilted his head to the side and my chest exploded in protest.

"Why not?" His voice was quiet...it was sad.

"I don't like you like that!" I lied. I lied because once I cared for a boy and he killed himself. The last time I lost myself in a boy's company, he was murdered. Each time I trusted myself to be vulnerable, it fell down on itself. So, I lied because I felt like I had to. "You're not my boyfriend, Khaleel. You're just somebody I felt bad for and tried to help."

His face fell, eyes downturned and lips pulled into a frown.

"You're- you're a fool to want me," I spoke. And, God, I hated myself. I hated those words so much that I wanted to take them back right away but if I did, I was afraid we'd return to kissing and I couldn't let that happen.

I couldn't let myself fall back to that comfort that Khaleel showered me with. My throat felt itchy now and my eyes burned once again.

His mouth opened and closed but no words escaped.

I refused to apologise or take it back or move my face an inch from the mask of indifference I wore now. Underneath it all though, I was broken.

"Why do you start and seem to fear things that do sound so fair?" His voice was weak and the wind carried it like a song through the trees. The look in his eyes, paired with Shakespeare's words made it feel like he understood me. It felt as though he'd slunk through my mind, picked it apart and everything he did resonated deep within my bones.

When I didn't answer, he turned to leave. And, with a heavy heart, I watched him.