New chapter! Don't start expecting updates every single day like this, though—it's not every day that I don't have any obligations except to write! I should probably be working on my ten sketches for art, actually...

The chapter's really long this time, but there just wasn't a good place to stop it!

Romeo and Julian

Geoff knocked on the bathroom door again. "Luke, if you don't hurry up in there, Greg's going to think you ditched him," he called through the cheap wood.

I stared into the dirty, cracked mirror and whined for what must have been the fifth time in the last three minutes. It wasn't easy getting ready for a not-really date in the public bathroom at Mamma Lu's Ice Cream Shoppe.

"Do you have a toothbrush on you?" I asked, starting to panic.

Geoff paused before answering. "I always keep a spare in my purse, Lucas dear. But I wouldn't loan it to you. Everyone knows that gays have cooties. Ew." He was using that 'you're pathetic beyond all belief and I'm going to laugh at you' tone. I hated that tone. He used it entirely too much. If I'd had anything in the bathroom with me, I would have thrown it at the door. There was a roll of toilet paper, true, but I didn't want to touch anything that I wasn't required to touch. So I settled for whining again.

"Do you at least have hair gel?" I begged. Please let him have hair gel. Most guys did, right?

"It's in my purse with the toothbrush," Geoff replied. I couldn't see him, but I knew he was rolling his eyes at me. "Just use water like every other guy out there."

I huffed a little. "That works on your hair because it's short," I argued.

Geoff probably shrugged at this. "Just pull your hair back and be done with it."

I nodded a little. Yeah... That would work. "Okay," I agreed, nodding.

Geoff gave a sigh of relief. "Good," he said.

I ran my fingers through my hair a few times before slipping my hand into my pocket and pulling an elastic out. I looked into the mirror, hesitating for a moment. "Do you have a comb?" I asked finally.

Geoff answered with a loud groan and a dull thud, probably his head, against the door. "I hate you," came his muffled response.

« o o o o o o o o »

In Geoff's car, I kept fidgeting and gnawing on my lower lip. I alternated between staring out of the window and staring down at my hands, which were currently fisting themselves in my shirt. It was relatively quiet, except for the steady rumble of the motor, until Geoff laughed. My head jerked in his direction quickly, my ponytail smacking me in the face, and I watched him shake his head at my piteousness.

"Chill out, Luke," he told me, grinning a little. "I mean, how am I going to explain to Greg that you passed out and can't practice with him?"

"Tell him I'm anemic," I replied. Geoff laughed again and made a left turn into a nice looking cul-de-sac. We wound through the little street, passing near-identical houses before pulling into the driveway of one with dark-stained shutters and a red door. Geoff put the car in park and unlocked the doors.

"He lives here?" I asked, surprised. The house wasn't that big, I guess, but it was nice.

Yeah, this is it," he replied with a smile, gesturing for me to get out. I swallowed nervously and started to open the door. "Now, I don't have to explain the bees and the bees to you, do I?"

I blushed and slapped at his arm. "Shut up!" I exclaimed. Geoff chuckled and shoved me lightly toward the car door. I grabbed my backpack and smiled nervously. "Wish me luck," I said.

"Good luck," he called after me before I closed the door. I slung my bag over one shoulder and waved at him as I crossed in front of the car. Then I began to make my way up the little sidewalk toward the front door of the house. Then I heard Geoff's power window roll down, and I stopped and turned to see what he wanted.

"Have fun," he called. "Use protection. And don't forget to bite a pillow to reduce the noise!"

Face red, I screeched, "Shut up, you jerk!" For the second time in the last twenty minutes, I wished that I'd had something to throw.

Geoff was still laughing when he rolled the window up and started to back out of the drive way. It was just me and Greg's house, now. Taking a deep breath, I started for the door again, trying to shove thoughts of Geoff's sex advice out of my head. Stopping in front of the door, I reached forward to ring the doorbell. I could hear a fain chime inside. I took another deep breath and waited nervously.

Then it hit me: what if this wasn't Greg's house? What if this was Geoff's way of playing a really mean joke on me?

I could hear footsteps from inside the house and started to panic again. What was I supposed to say if I had the wrong house? How was I even supposed to explain that?

Just then, the door swung open, and I nearly died of a heart attack. In front of me stood a tall, somewhat overweight man who was slightly balding and had a thick beard and moustache. Oh God, I was so screwed.

"Is, um... Is Greg home?" I managed. The man didn't say anything, so I did what I always do when I'm nervous: I babbled. "You see, he's in my class and he invited me over to study with him. Well, not study, really. We've got drama together, and he wanted to practice for this semester's play. It's Romeo and Juliet, so you know we've got to do a good job. He called like half an hour ago, and he was getting in the shower then, so I thought he'd be out by now, and—" I paused, my brain finally processing the verbal diarrhea pouring out of my mouth. I shuffled my feet nervously before mumbling, "So...yeah."

The man studied me with narrowed brown eyes, then chuckled at me. "You've got the wrong house, kid," I could imagine him saying before shutting the door in my face. But he didn't say or do that at all. "Yeah, he's home," the man said, stepping aside and gesturing for me to come in. I sighed, more relieved than I'd ever felt in my entire life. I stepped into the house, and the man, probably Greg's father, shut the door behind me. "What's your name, kid?" he asked.

"Um... Lucas," I replied with a nervous smile before starting to untie my shoes.

"You can leave 'em on," the man said, gesturing at my feet. I stopped my task. He took a step toward the hallway on the left and shouted, "Hey, Greg! Lucas is here!"

After a brief pause, I could hear Greg's faint response: "Just a second, Ted! Let me get pants on!"

Oh God. I wasn't going to blush at that thought. I was not, I was not, I was not.

"Greg'll be out in a minute," the man, Ted, told me, patting my shoulder. "You need anything, just let one of us know." Then he turned and headed into the room on the right, a moderately sized yet nicely furnished living room. He sat down on the couch and resumed watching something on TV, leaving me to shift my weight from foot to foot and tug at the straps of my backpack nervously while waiting for Greg to finish...getting dressed. Oh boy. I didn't need to think about that for very long. That wouldn't be very good at all, no sir.

Great. Now I was blushing again.

"Hey, Lucas!" I looked up quickly, just in time to see a flash of tan abs before Greg pulled his shirt down the rest of the way. I'd gotten a quick glimpse of his boxers, too: blue and purple plaid. I'd always liked plaid.

I smiled at him nervously, willing the blush I knew was there to go away. "Hey, Greg," I replied, taking a step toward him.

"Come on, my room's this way," he said, gesturing for me to follow him. I did so all too eagerly—I was actually going to enter Greg Hatley's room! He led me down the hallway on the left toward a half-open door with a simple sign reading "GREG" on it. He stopped before entering his room and turned to face me.

"That's the bathroom," he said, pointing to the door on his right. "There's a door to it in my room, too." He pointed around the corner to his left. "That's the kitchen. We've got Dr. Pepper in the fridge. And Kool-Aid, I think." He trailed off for a moment before looking down at me. He almost seemed a little nervous, but there was no way that a person like Greg Hatley would be nervous over a person like Lucas Neely. "You, uh... Want something to drink?" he asked.

I shook my head and smiled a little. "No, thanks," I told him. "I'm fine." Actually, all this being nervous had made my mouth pretty dry, but I wasn't going to trouble him.

Greg shrugged a little. "Okay, just tell me when you're thirsty. Or hungry. We've got snacks, too." He smiled at me and I smiled back. Then he turned back to the door to his room. "It's, uh... A little messy. I tried to clean up a little, but..." He trailed off as he nudged the door open, then stepped aside to let me enter first.

He called this messy? I couldn't even see my floor half of the time. There were a few articles of clothing, yes (like another pair of plaid boxers that Greg quickly kicked under his bed), and a few cans of soda, supposedly empty, sitting around, and a dirty dish or two, but it was actually really clean.

"Sorry about the mess," he apologized, picking up some empty cans and dropping them into the aluminum trash can beside his computer desk.

I shook my head. "No way. This is really neat compared to my room." I smiled again. I did that a lot, too, when I was nervous.

Greg smiled back. "Still...do you mind if I pick up a little?"

"Not at all," I told him. After all, if he wanted to do something, I wasn't going to tell him no. "You don't have to, though. I mean, I really don't mind." He was already tidying up, though.

"Nah, it'll only take a second," he insisted, picking up an empty glass. "Just drop your bag anywhere. I'll be right back. You can have a seat, if you'd like." He gestured toward his bed, and I nodded nervously. Then he had left the room, leaving me to look around. I dropped my bag on the floor and did just that.

His walls were relatively bare, except for a few posters and papers here and there. There was a poster for last year's production of Dracula, for example, and the playbill beside it. There were two Pirates of the Caribbean posters beside each other, one being the regular movie poster and one of just Jack Sparrow. I had wanted the second one myself, but probably for entirely different reasons. He had a print of van Gogh's Starry Night and a Les Misérables poster, one for Dashboard Confessional and one of the Dalai Lama. There was one for The Phantom of the Opera, and I could catch a glimpse of another one on the back of his door, a person, but I couldn't tell exactly what it was. I moved toward the door and closed it slightly to get a better look.

It was two very busty, very naked women. It took me a moment to realize that, no, they weren't naked; just topless. They were, after all, wearing very skimpy black bikini bottoms. One woman was more or less behind the other, so her breasts couldn't be seen, and her hands were cupping the breasts of the other. So...nothing was really showing.

Still, it wasn't a shot I wanted to look at for very long. I reached to open the door fully so the picture would be blocked from view, but Greg had returned, and he opened it himself. Hitting my forehead in the process. I let out a pained sound and jumped back, holding my head, while Greg just stared with wide eyes.

"I'm sorry!" he exclaimed, sounding worried. He moved closer. "I didn't see you!"

I shook my head from side to side, wincing a little. "No," I said with a grimace, "it's my fault for standing behind the door."

"Standing behind the—" he started to repeat, then stopped, realization dawning on him. "Oh." He smiled sheepishly. "I, uh, guess you saw the poster my mom got me."

I looked at him in disbelief. "Your mom got you that?" I asked. "What kind of mother buys a poster like that for her son?"

Greg looked a little uncomfortable at the question, and I immediately regretted asking. "You haven't met my mom," he said simply.

"I'm sorry," I apologized, feeling even worse.

He shook his head. "Nah, I'm the one who hit you," he said. He ushered me a little further into the room so he could step in and close the door. "It's not going to bother you, is it?" he asked, referring to the poster. I glanced at it before slowly shaking my head. I could ignore it, right? Or maybe stand with my back to it. That would work. "I could always cover it up," he offered.

I shook my head again. "No, no," I insisted. "It's okay."

"Okay," he replied, nodding a little. We both stood there in silence for a moment before Greg spoke again. "So... You want to start practicing?"

I nodded quickly. "Sure," I said. "Sounds good to me."

"All right," he replied, sounding a little relieved. He turned and picked his messenger bag up off of the floor and set it on his bed, then dug through it for something. Finally, he pulled out the script that Mr. Louis had passed out today.

The script... I had left it at school!

"Um..." I spoke up, nervously. "I think I left my script in my locker."

Greg looked at me, seeming to be a little surprised. His expression returned to normal, though, and he smiled. "It's okay," he said. "You can use mine. I've got a copy of it that I can use." He held his script out to me, and I took it, not really knowing what else to do, then watched as he walked over to his bookshelf. It only took him a moment before I could hear him say, "Here we are!" probably to himself, and pull a book from the shelf. Then he walked back to where I stood. This had the potential to be another uncomfortable pause, so I took the opportunity to speak up.

"Where do you want to start?" I asked, opening the script he'd handed me to avoid looking at his eyes. I kept thinking about how glad I was that the poster was behind me.

"How about where we first meet?" Greg suggested, following my lead by opening his own copy of the play and starting to flip through pages.

"Act one, scene five?" I asked. I'd read Romeo and Juliet way too many times.

Greg nodded, an action that I could barely see with my peripheral vision. "Yeah," he agreed. "Sounds good."

I skimmed through the lines until I found my first speaking part. I waiting for Greg to start, but he didn't. "You first," I said, a little quietly.

"All right," he said, nodding again. He cleared his throat softly. "If I profane with my unworthiest hand / This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: / My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand / To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss," he read, easily slipping into character as he grabbed my free hand and quickly kissed my knuckles.

I risked glancing up at him quickly, catching the smile he gave me. Or rather the one Romeo gave Juliet. The combination of the kiss and the smile made me want to blush, and I quickly looked back down at the script. "Good pilgrim," I read, "you do wrong your hand too much, / Which mannerly devotion shows in this; / For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, / And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss." I tried to get into my character as easily as he had, and I looked up at him, attempting to return the coy smile.

"Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?" he shot back, not bothering to look down at his book. He'd read Romeo and Juliet too many times, too, it seemed.

I glanced down at my script briefly, making sure I had the line right before saying it. I looked up at Greg again and slipped back into character. "Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer," I told him.

It was his turn to glance at his script. "O, then, dear saint," he started, then raised his eyes to meet mine again, "let lips do what hands do; / They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair."

"Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake," I pointed out. I was smiling, but then I remembered what was coming up. My smiled faded a little. Was he really going to do it?

"Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take," he said, his voice between normal volume and a whisper. Then, before I could protest, he leaned down and quickly kissed me. "Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged."

I stood there, mostly in shock, just staring at him. He...he'd actually kissed me. Greg Hatley had kissed me. I was still just standing there, so Greg cleared his throat a little to snap me back to reality. I jumped a little, startled, and looked up at him with wide eyes. I mumbled a quick apology, then looked down at my script again. Greg Hatley had kissed me! All things considered, it was just because of a play, but a kiss was a kiss.

"Then have my lips the sin that they have took," I said, my voice a little dull. I mentally kicked myself; some acting there, Lucas.

Greg didn't seem to mind, though. "Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!" he exclaimed. "Give me my sin again." Then, as quickly and as easily as the first time, he leaned down to kiss me again.

I was more prepared this time, and managed to easily reply, "You kiss by the book," with only a slight falter.

Romeo and Juliet's actual interaction was over, now, and neither of us was really sure what to do now. At least I wasn't, anyway. Not to mention the fact that I was still dazed from the two kisses.

"So..." Greg started, but was cut off by my ringing phone. I was grateful for the interruption.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and looked at the display. I wasn't really sure if I was glad or saddened by what I saw. "It's my mom," I told Greg, who nodded, then I flipped open the phone. "Hello?"

"Lucas? It's getting late. You need to come home." Typical mother statement. Not worried, just wanting her baby home.

"All right, Mom. I'll be there soon." I hung up, then looked over at Greg. "Mom wants me to come home," I told him.

He nodded. "I figured as much," he said. "Do you want me to give you a ride?"

In all honesty, yes. Yes, I did want him to give me a ride. A ride that ended with the two of us making out in his back seat. But that was something that I wanted in my dreams, not now. And how would I explain my kiss-bruised lips and hickeys to my mom when she was only somewhat okay with me being gay? Exactly.

"Nah," I said, shaking my head. "I live pretty close, so I'll just walk." It was a blatant lie. I would call Geoff and get him to come pick me up once I was a reasonable distance away from Greg's house. "Thanks, though. I appreciate it."

Greg accepted the lie and nodded, smiling. "No problem." I started to hand his script back to him, but he shook his head. "Just give it back tomorrow. You can use it to practice on your own tonight, since I've already got a copy for me to practice with."

I nodded a little and smiled. "Thanks." Greg moved past me to open the door while I picked up my bag and slung it over my shoulder again. "I'll see you tomorrow?" It was more of a question than a statement.

Greg nodded and smiled. "Yeah. I'll walk you to the door."

I started out of his room, then hesitated for just a moment. "You don't have to," I told him.

"I don't mind," he replied, walking beside me until we reached the front door. It wasn't really dark out, yet, but he flipped a light switch, turning on the front porch light, anyway. "You sure you don't want a ride home?"

I smiled genuinely, trying not to blush at all the attention. "No, it's okay. Really. But thanks for offering."

He held the door open for me. "Well, okay, then." I stepped outside. "See you at school tomorrow!"

I waved a little, still smiling. "See you," I replied, then turned and made my way back to the driveway. I started for the road and glanced back over my shoulder. I couldn't be sure, but I thought I could still see Greg at the front window, watching to make sure nothing happening to me.

Since no one was around to see me, I didn't bother hiding my blush.

I made my way down the street in the direction Geoff and I had come from earlier, smiling like an idiot. I actually walked a little further than I had to before pulling out my phone to call Geoff.

"Lucas?" he asked, sounding a little confused. "What's up?" In this case, 'what's up' meant 'what's wrong.'

"Nothing," I replied. "I just need you to come pick me up. Mom wants me to come home."

"Sure, man," he said, sounding a little relieved. "Where are you? And why not just get Greg to drive you?"

"I'm halfway between his house and the neighborhood entrance," I replied. A rough estimate, but he knew what I meant. "And I'll explain when you get here. And hurry up; Mom'll give me hell if I'm late."

"Okay, okay," he replied. "I'll be there soon." Then he hung up.

I went back to smiling like an idiot.

« o o o o o o o o »

Geoff was a man true to his word. Although it had felt like quite some time before he got there, it had probably only been five or six minutes. He pulled up beside me, unlocking the doors, and I climbed in. "Thanks," I said as I shut the door. I dropped my bag in the floorboard and fastened my seatbelt.

"No problem," Geoff replied, pulling into the closest driveway so he could turn around. Within seconds, we were heading back toward my house. "Why didn't you let Greg drive you?" he asked. "I know he must have offered."

"He did," I agreed with a nod. "But I was...too nervous...to let him drive me home." I smiled a little to myself. Greg was watching me out of the corner of his eye.

"You made out with him, didn't you?" he asked, grin apparent in his voice. "Slut."

"I am not!" I protested, slapping at his arm. I was in too much of a good mood to put any sort of effort into it, though. "And we didn't. We just...kissed."

Geoff was silent for a moment. "You really did?" he asked finally. "I was just teasing about that!"

I blushed again, this time more out of embarrassment than anything else. "Well, it was just in the play. It was the scene where Romeo and Juliet meet. And Romeo kisses her twice, so..." I trailed off.

"So he kissed you twice," Geoff finished. I nodded, though he probably couldn't see it. He chuckled softly. "Lucky dog, you," he said, teasing.

I grinned. "I know."

Geoff drove fast, so we were already to my street. "What was it like?" he asked. I didn't answer him. "Well?" he pressed once we had pulled into my driveway. I had my things gathered and was ready to get out of the car before I responded.

"Fantastic," I breathed, smiling. I was probably over romanticizing it already, but what did it matter? I climbed out of Geoff's car and waved at him. "Good night, Geoff," I said.

"Good night, Lucas," he replied, grinning at me. "Try to get to at least first base next time, though, okay?"

I laughed and shook my head. "Perv," I said.

"You know it," he replied. I closed the door and headed for my house.

It had, all in all, been a good day.

For the record, I know nothing about Dashboard Confessional. I'm just good friends with a person who absolutely adores their earlier stuff, and I decided that Greg would be a person who would like them, too.

Like I said earlier, don't get used to having updates this frequently! I just happened to have a lot of spare time today, which left me with plenty of time to write. If I had to guess, I'd say that it would be safe to say that updates will be a week apart, on average. Keep in mind, though, that when I say "update," I don't just mean new chapters of R&J; I mean rewritten chapters of WtCH, too. Yes, I've finally gotten around to starting that project, and I'm very pleased with it so far. I hope you guys will be, too!

Keep in mind, gentle readers, that reviews make the author very happy. I actually posted a LiveJournal entry about my first review last night; emotional hangover, this chapter was dedicated to you!