A 'Liv' by Any Other Name (Romeo and Juliet)

I took a careful sip from my chamomile tea, still steaming as tiny tendrils wafted around my nose, then set it down gently on the side table and flipped to the next page in my book. Exhaustion from all that social interaction earlier had my eyes finding difficulty focusing on the letters on the pages, but I was unable to rest just yet. The soft glow of my book light cast a small shaft illuminating my precious pages in the darkness of the moonless night. From my balcony, I could hear the distant hum of crickets and the occasional bark from a neighbor's dog. I leaned back in my chair a moment to stretch, the cool night air brushing against my skin, and then I went back into the pages. To get lost in the world of a fierce heroine and her daring adventures.

A rustle from below broke my concentration. Perhaps it was the sweet family of raccoons that frequents our backyard for fresh water and any leftover treats from our dogs. I glanced down and saw a figure clumsily scaling the trellis. My heart jumped, a thrill of terror tearing through me, bringing a slick sheen of sweat to my face, despite the cool of the night. 

I chanced a glance down once more, heart pounding in my fingers, then sighed when I recognized the guy from the party earlier tonight. He was from Ridgewood High, our ‘rivals’, but he’d shown up to the party like he belonged, and got on well enough with the annoying footballers, despite being supposed enemies. With his tousled hair and a confident, lopsided grin, he was every bit the stereotypical heartthrob. Not my cup of tea, and I think he sensed it. So why was he climbing my trellis? This isn’t West Side Story, and it certainly isn’t a play from Shakespeare.

He reached the top, breathing heavily, and shot me a grin. "Hey, there, Juliet." He scrambled over the railing, nearly toppling over in his attempt to right himself on the deck, though nobody had invited him onto my balcony.

I raised an eyebrow. "My name’s still Liv, actually. Juliet was a thirteen-year-old with a death wish. Seems like you’re the only one here who’s got one of those. You’d better hope my parents don’t find you up here."

He chuckled. "Right, Liv. I’m Marcus, remember?"

"How could I forget? You were the guy who spilled beer on my shoes and called me Lisa all night. I think once it was even. Leann. A real stretch."

He winced. "Yeah, sorry about that. But hey, you didn’t seem too mad."

"Not mad. Also not impressed.” I huffed, then added, “Honestly, slightly annoyed. My shoes are in the wash right now, thanks to you. How’d you even find out where I live? That’s big creep behavior. Maybe I should just call out for my parents right now,” I said, my head tilted and an unamused stare that I’d gotten quite good at in recent months. I wanted to unsettle him. Who does he think he is showing up here? 

He leaned against the railing, trying to look suave. "No, no, please don’t. I’m sorry. I–I just couldn’t stop thinking about you. You seemed really cool, at the party, I mean, and I don’t know. I thought I’d take a chance and see if you wanted to hang out."

"Hang out?" I echoed. "You climbed up to my balcony at midnight to ask if I wanted to hang out? Do you have any idea how ridiculous that is?"

His grin faltered, but he recovered quickly. "I guess I thought it was kind of romantic. You know, like in those old movies."

I closed my book with a snap. "Oh, you mean like when the guy thinks he’s being all charming and irresistible, but really he’s just annoying the girl who was perfectly happy reading her book?"

"Uh, yeah… Something like that?" His look, at first askance and hopeful, turned sour when he saw my eyes. The set of my jaw.

I stood up, crossing my arms. "Look, Marcus, I get it. You’re probably used to girls falling all over you because you’ve got that whole ‘handsome rebel’ thing going on. But here’s the thing: I’m not interested in being someone’s conquest. I’m not a ‘pick me’ girl. I’m interested in someone who gets me, or makes a real effort to, at least. Someone who can hold an actual conversation."

He blinked, clearly taken aback. "I can hold a conversation!"

"Really? What’s the last book you read?"

His defensive eyebrows faltered, then lowered. "Uh...well, does a car magazine count?"

I rolled my eyes. "Figures."

He frowned. "Okay, so I’m not a big reader. But I’m more than just looks, you know. Give me a chance. I might surprise you."

I shook my head. "I think we both know that’s not what this is about. You saw me, thought I was cute, and figured you’d have some fun. I’m flattered, but this has gone too far. I’m not here for your entertainment, Marcus. In fact, I’m here, at my house by myself, because I didn’t find anyone worth my time at that party. Serina and Jackie weren’t there, anyway. I’m looking for real connections, real conversations. And frankly, you’re just not up to par."

He opened his mouth to argue, but I held up a hand. "It’s late. Go home, Marcus. Find someone who’s impressed by your beer-spilling skills and your car magazines. But that’s not me."

For a moment, he looked genuinely hurt. But then he nodded slowly. "Alright, Liv. You’re something else, you know that?"

I smiled, a real smile this time. "I know. Goodnight, Romeo."

He shuffled to the edge of the railing, sloppily heaved himself over the edge and back onto the trellis, then climbed back down. A bit more slowly this time, but he disappeared into the night. I settled back into my chair, opened my book, and let out a contented sigh. Being alone was infinitely better than being with someone who didn’t appreciate the real me.