Excerpt: Romeo and Juliet and Me

“Wait,” I said it before I could stop myself. Usually I just wait for the next one but I really wanted to get back to my apartment and see what clean clothes I had. I saw a hand stop the door and everyone inside groan. I got to the door and there were six other people, all in business attire, save one.

“I would wait for you forever if you would just ask me,” he said it with sincerity and for a moment my breath caught in my throat. I stood just outside the elevator and blatantly stared. He was a Greek God in my eyes, though maybe not to others. He had fitted jeans that fit but weren't sew onto his body, a black thermal under a red t-shirt that look as if he wore it every day. He was lean, but not skinny. He had dark black hair and beard that was just long enough to be a beard but short enough that I could still see his beautiful bone structure. He had his nose and lip pierced but they were subtle, and not excessive. He had these piercing brown eyes that I couldn't look away from.

“Are you getting on or what?” Someone shouted from behind him and he smiled at me. I broke out of my revelry just as he offered me his hand. I took it and pulled me into the elevator. Standing next to him I could feel his warmth penetrating my air conditioned skin, and he smelled clean. I don't know how to describe it; it wasn't floral or musky, he just smelled clean and soft, even though he looked dirty and haphazard. On the bottom floor I made a beeline towards the doors but he followed me. I stopped at the door because it was raining and so I turned to face him but he must have been following close because he bumped into me.

“Excuse me.” He exhaled in my face, which I usually find disgusting but his warm breath smelled like cinnamon and being this close to him made me feel warm inside.

“You're excused.” I sputtered and he laughed, too loudly. The kind of laugh big bosses do when they want everyone else to laugh with them even if it's not funny except his was so pure. People who work in this building don't laugh like that, because they all take themselves much to seriously.

I turned away from him and pushed through the glass doors and glanced over my shoulder to see him follow me. He pulled his messenger cap down to cover his face a little more from the rain and smiled at me.

“No umbrella?” He asked casually, and I found myself stopping and turning to face him. He stopped to, patient and smiling.

“What do you want?” I know it sounded horribly rude but I said it before I could stop myself. Things like this, men following me, doesn't happen. I'm not fat, but I am sort around the edges and I'm not very fashionable. I've only been told I was beautiful once and it was by an ex who said, 'You're so beautiful... because you're plain.' Not a nice fellow in the end, really. So, here I am, standing in the rain (which isn't too different) with an incredibly handsome man standing in front of me (which is very different).

“You're name to start,” his smile turned into this devilishly impish lopsided grin, “and you're number if it's not too much trouble.”

“Why?” He seemed taken aback by my response but I wasn't really comprehending the situation.

“Well, so that when I call to ask you out, I know to whom I'm speaking.” He rolled his eyes and I continued to stare uncomprehendingly.

“Oh.” That was the best I could come up with?

“Oh indeed.” He took a step closer to me and I felt myself get weak, my body
suddenly aching to be embraced by him. What's wrong with me today? Low blood sugar? I need a candy bar or something. “My name is Romeo.”

“Romeo? Are you serious?” I could stop the grin from creeping onto my face and his eyes seem to light up at my reaction.

“My parents were romantics, what can I say?” He smiled and the was a short paused before he rolled on his toes and looked at me expectantly. “Now is usually where you reciprocate with your name.”

“Oh, yes, I'm sorry.” I swept my hair out of my face, which is a dark boring brown. “My name is Audrey. Nothing romantic about it really, just plain Audrey.”

“No, I think it's perfect. It suits you.”

“Why, because it's so plain?” I rolled my eyes, but he got serious.

“No, because it starts off soft but has a solidity to it – you seem soft spoken but I think you understand yourself better than you give yourself credit for.” My hair fell in my face again and he and I went to brush it aside at the same time and bumped hands.

“I'm sorry.” My immediate response puzzled him.

“Why are you apologizing? I'm the one who was trying to cop a feel.”

“What are you? Some kind of psycho-analyst.”

“No, I'm a bike messenger.”

“Are you serious? How old are you?” He seemed to take offense and I immediately regretted saying anything.

“Does it matter?”

“Well, I don't want to rob cradles.” He laughed again, laughing was a good sign.

“Would you like to go out sometime or not?” I couldn't believe how forward he was. Part of me wanted to say yes and the other part knew I should say no. This would never work.

“I don't know.”

“Let me know when you make up your mind.” He took a card, his business card, out of his pocket and handed it to me. I was trying to think of something clever to say or even just something to say but my mind was blank. He waited for a moment and then spoke again, “I'm going to kiss you now.”

He hesitated for the briefest of moments, as if waiting for me to just slap him, and then he leaned over just slightly (since he was only a couple inches taller than me) and pressed his lips gently against mine. I felt like my lips were on fire and he was a cool compress; our mouths met in a harmonic beauty that I am still trying to understand.