“You’re seriously going to do that right now?” Cross asked.
Catherine giggled, but stayed firmly on her stomach, refusing to roll over on the bed. “I have to; I have an essay due on Monday.”
She continued reading the paperback copy of Romeo and Juliet. Cross decided to continue trying to distract her by kissing a path up her spine while his fingers edged along the waistline of her boy shorts.
“Are my clothes dried yet?”
“No, the machine will beep, and be quiet.”
Cross kissed the back of her neck.
“Stop that,” Catherine half-heartedly muttered.
He sighed, and rolled off her to his back on the bed. “They die, Catherine. That’s what happens. They’re stupid, and they die. Spoiler alert, babe.”
Catherine glowered at him. “First of all, you’re supposed to tell me a spoiler is coming before you give the spoiler. Never watching shit with you because clearly you don’t respect the spoiler alert, Cross.”
He just shrugged.
“Secondly,” she continued, “I know they die. That does not make them stupid. They died together. It was the only option in the end. I think that’s—”
Cross quickly rolled over and came close enough to Catherine that their faces were just centimeters apart. “If you say that’s romantic, I’m burning that damn book.”
“It’s the school’s book, so go for it.”
He didn’t miss how she didn’t say it was romantic, though.
“It wasn’t their only option. It was the shit option they put themselves into because they weren’t smart enough to figure out a way to be together and stay alive,” Cross said.
“Fact,” he interjected.
“You better stop interrupting me.”
Cross smirked. “Or what?”
Catherine smacked him in the forehead with the book. “Or that. And it does not make them stupid, Cross.”
“Okay, maybe stupid was a bad word choice.”
“Try again, then.”
Cross rested his arms behind his head as a makeshift pillow. Although, Catherine’s bed had more than a half of a dozen decorative pillows to use. He didn’t understand why she needed that many pillows, but whatever.
“It’s not romanticto die together because that’s the only option,” he said quietly, “that’s sad. It’s fucking sad. You don’t give up, not on anything, not on anyone worth having. You just don’t give up—ever. You figure shit out. You fight. Or you take a step away and come back at it when you’re ready to, but you don’t roll over and die. So no, it’s not romantic, it’s just sad. That’s the end of it.”
Catherine stared at him for a long while before she said, “This is supposed to be one of the greatest love stories ever written.”
“Yeah, well, I prefer my love alive and well, not cold and dead.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re kind of terrible. You totally just ruined Romeo and Juliet for me.”
Bethany-Kris is a Canadian author, lover of much, and mother to three young sons, one cat, and two dogs. A small town in Eastern Canada where she was born and raised is where she has always called home. With her boys under her feet, snuggling cat, barking dogs, and a hubby calling over his shoulder, she is nearly always writing something … when she can find the time.
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