Juliet’s soothing voice was the last thing I heard before I drifted off the sleep, but my waking up was anything but graceful as I was suddenly shook into disoriented consciousness. I forced myself to prop my head up on my elbows, my eyelids rebelliously flickering shut.
The waiter was turning to speak with someone in the kitchen, giving me a few more seconds to successfully wake Paris up.
“Paris,” I whispered urgently, snapping a finger in front of his eyes, which were once again drifting shut. But he was falling asleep again—and fast. Reacting purely on instinct, I placed my hand on his cheek and forced his head up until he met my eyes. “Up. The waiter is coming.”
I groaned softly as Juliet’s words began to register. It was soothing to just let her hold my head in the palm of her hand and let her handle things, but my parents would disown and kill me if I ever exposed that much weakness in public. “Right, right… sorry. I’m up.” I mumbled groggily, pulling away and sitting stiffly upright.
I pulled my shaking hand away from his skin as quickly as possible, heart racing from nothing but fear and regret. Why had I touched him like that?
“Rub your eyes,” I instructed softly, swallowing the lump in my throat.
I followed her instructions, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes without complaint. I wanted nothing more than to just give in to sleep on the spot…
The waiter approached our table before I could say anything else, his arms laden with two plates of pizza.
“Thank you.” I greeted the waiter as he set down the pizza on the table.
“Will that be all?” The waiter turned to look at me and for a second I got a terrible gut feeling that he was sizing me up.
“Yes, that will be all.” I replied back stiffly, only relaxing again once the waiter was out of sight.
“This looks good,” I murmured, eyeing the steaming plate of pizza. “Do you want me to pay?”
“No, I came prepared, that won’t be necessary.” I breathed out quietly, realizing I hardly had an appetite. I’d have to force myself to eat anyways.
“If you’re sure,” I murmured, lifting the pizza to my mouth. “I’ll pay next time.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I replied, my heart not really in the act at the moment. I pushed the pizza lightly with my finger, trying to convince myself to take a bite.
I began to work away at my pizza—which was perhaps the best I had tasted, despite the less-than-ideal circumstances. Occasionally, I would glance over at Paris, waiting for him to make conversation because I had no idea what to say.
“So…” I don’t know what was worse, the silence or my stiff attempt at breaking it. “You mentioned you liked plays, right?”
I nodded, dabbing at my mouth with a napkin. “Yes, I did. Acting, singing sometimes. I like Shakespeare.”
“You’re very well rounded.” I complimented her, still picking at the pizza sitting in front of me. “I never had much luck with Shakespeare. What do you like about his works?”
"Thank you…" I murmured, letting my eyes settle briefly on his untouched pizza before I pulled them away. "I enjoy the way he writes. It was confusing at first, the Shakespearian English, but I'm fairly used to it now. And I like how dramatic everything is. Overdone in the best kind of way, I guess. His tragedies make me cry and his comedies make me laugh."
“You made it sound so simple.” I managed a chuckle, using it as an excuse to lean away from the pizza. “You have quite the sophisticated sense of humor.”
"Thank you," I repeated, faking a bashful smile for good measure. "You can fine modern English translations of his play, too, if that helps. I think I own a series of books where each page of his plays is depicted in Shakespearian English on the right-hand page and modern English on its left, so you can compare as you read."
“I’ll have to borrow them sometime.” I forced a smile back, itching to get away from the food. Even the smell was making me nauseous at the moment, my nerves churning in my gut.
My smile tightened slightly. You most certainly will not.
But instead of voicing my thoughts, I tipped my head towards his untouched pizza. "Feeling a little sick?"
A whole new form of dread pooled in my stomach as Juliet gestured to the pizza I had been carefully avoiding since it was set down on the table. “No, no. Just a bit nervous is all.” I assured her, feeling a cold sweat drip down my back. Please don’t tell…
A tiny frown tugged at my lips. “Are you sure?” I asked him, “You don’t have to lie.”
“I assure you.” I smiled as convincingly as possible. “There’s a lot resting on my mission. I suppose it must be stress.”
I gave him a sceptical look, but played along anyways. "If you say so, Paris. How much longer will you be in Verona?"
“I wish I had an answer for you.” I wrung my hands, a pit of anxiety disrupting my stomach. “I haven’t been briefed yet.”