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My heart flutters hearing the Old English words spoken with such passion, and my eyes widen. He says it with such feeling. I know we’ve practiced these lines a hundred times. But now, at this moment, it suddenly feels like he genuinelymeansthem.
“Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this.” I turn to face him fully as I lift his palm, intertwining our fingers. And as I look deep into his stunning hazel eyes, I can’t seem to catch my breath. “For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.”
“Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?” Cassio asks, stepping forward as his voice drops to a stage whisper, intensifying our intimate moment.
I shudder at his proximity, the warmth radiating from his chest. I need to get ahold of myself, or I’m going to miss a step. “Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer,” I explain like the dutiful innocent daughter of Lord and Lady Capulet. However, my pulse quickens in anticipation of the very real kiss to come.
“O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do,” he pleads. “They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.”
“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake,” I counter, my heart thumping wildly.
“Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.”
The room is utterly still and silent as Cassio leans in, his lips meeting mine as he kisses me chastely. As if the oxygen’s been sucked from the room all at once, I suddenly can’t breathe. Everything falls away around me, leaving only Cassio and his captivating lips as they gently mold to mine. For an instant, it’s as if he stops time. He lingers there, the moment drawing out deliciously as tingles race up and down my spine, and then it’s over.
Cassio pulls away, his eyes finding mine once again. “Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged,” he whispers just loud enough for all to hear, reminding me we have an audience, though I can hardly bring myself to care.
“Then have my lips the sin that they have took,” I breathe, my voice too weak to carry as my heart does cartwheels in my chest.
“Sin from my lips?” Cassio sounds utterly mortified to think he might have passed his sin to me. “O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again,” he insists.
His lips meet mine more intensely this time, his arms pulling me close. I’m utterly helpless, too overwhelmed with a hot, intense craving to think of anything but him and me. Trembling against his strong chest, I lean into him, deepening the kiss for only an instant.
And then he pulls away.
Aching longing constricts my chest as I breath heavily, and then reality hits me.Everyone’seyes are on me, and I have a line to say. For a single moment, I panic, terrified that I don’t remember what to say.
“You kiss by the book,” I gasp, this time loud enough to count as a stage whisper, though my stomach is all tied in knots. We’ve never kissed in public before, and somehow, that makes this moment that much more intense and overwhelming.
And then Ellie appears beside me, her eyes twinkling with mirth as she fights to keep a straight face. I can only imagine how frazzled I must appear. “Madam, your mother craves a word with you,” she commands, drawing me away from Cassio and shooing me off the stage.
Somehow, Cassio manages to finish the exchange, giving me time to collect myself before I have to ask Ellie to identify the youth who so boldly kissed me. Ellie takes my hand as we end the scene, and her reassurance helps me immensely. She’s familiar, supportive, and from the look of it, absolutely loving the fact that Cassio and I have to kiss.
“Well done, everyone,” Professor Burgmann calls as Ellie and I make our way off stage, his praise ending our performance before we can begin Act Two. He follows with a slow clap that says he’s none too impressed but not put out enough to scold any one person.
“I see some of you have been practicing. Mr. Marchetti, for someone new to the program, I must confess you’re picking things up rather nicely. Great interaction between you and Miss Popov. Wonderful chemistry. I know the first time performing a stage kiss can be daunting, but you seem to have enough confidence for the both of you,” our professor compliments.
A deep blush warms my cheeks as I recognize the subtle scolding for what it is. I need to keep my shit together, and Cassio did a far better job of it than I did.
“You did great,” Ellie encourages me in a whisper, her smile kind.
“Thanks,” I say gratefully, abashed by how unprofessional I appeared. Then again, this is my first romantic stage role, and apparently, my real-life inexperience is coming into play more than I thought it would.
“I don’t know,” Hannah Fiore drawls from the far side of the classroom, near where Cassio stands. “That kiss looked pretty real to me. Is something going on between the real-life Romeo and Juliet?” she teases, her expression an uncomfortable combination of mocking and envious.
Not that I can blame her. Kissing Cassio is nothing short of a heavenly out-of-body experience. But lead drops in my stomach as I realize my acting has completely fallen short. I’m not allowed to appear to like itthatmuch.Oh god, is this how we get caught?
“Oh, please,” Cassio cuts in, looking perfectly at ease as his face shifts into boasting amusement. “Kissing Bianka is as bad as kissing my sister–maybe even worse because she’s just an annoying spoiled brat. At least my sister is sweet.”
Laughter rises around him, Hannah guffawing extra loud, and their mirth is like a knife to my gut. I know I should be relieved that Cassio could recover the situation so quickly, turning any suspicion on its head.
And itisthe pretense we’ve been putting on for months to hide our romance–acting like partners who can barely stand each other but will tolerate one another for the sake of the play. Still, he lays it on thick, his words bringing tears to my eyes as he cuts me down in front of my peers.
“It just proves what a good actor I am that you would believe I enjoyed kissing her. Clearly, I deserve to be Romeo if you think I would ever kiss Bianka for any reason other than a play,” he adds, slinging his bag over his shoulder in a cocky display.
I snatch up my things as well, on the verge of crying and desperate to escape before he can catch up. But as always, his long legs close the distance between us before I reach the door.
“So, Bianka, what time can we meet up to run lines today?” he asks, his voice just loud enough to carry back to our peers.
