Be Mine: Valentine Novellas to Warm The Heart

by Nicole Flockton

  I shrugged again. “I don’t need to know what he wants to do.”

  “It’s not like you to throw away school work, Jess,” Norah said. She wasn’t impressed with me and I felt like it was somewhat unjustified.

  But I was saved answering as Miss Johnson and Mr Lawrence started addressing us and the camp staff started packing up breakfast. I only partially paid attention to any of them.

  Truthfully, I wasn’t throwing away an assignment. As much as I thought the whole thing was ridiculous and had no interest in getting to know Ryan at all, I also didn’t think that knowing someone’s favourite food or what they wanted to do after school was how you really got to know them.

  “So, if we can find our partner now, please,” Mr Lawrence finally said.

  “We can get on with it,” Miss Johnson added.

  I’d listened enough to get the gist that we were starting the day with one of our English lessons – it wasn’t all just having us run amok and play at falling in love – and that from then we were supposed to spend every possible waking moment with our partners.

  Ugh. Fine.

  I stood up, along with half the students in the mess hall, and looked for Ryan.

  He was sitting a couple of tables away, his hand wrapped around a cup. As I picked up my books, I nodded to my friends then weaved my way through the other searching kids over to him. He looked like the living dead. But he did look good for it in ripped black jeans and a black t-shirt, with his dark brown hair mussed in what I assumed was unplanned dishevelment.

  “Good morning,” I told him as I dropped beside him.

  Ryan shook his head. “No.”

  “No?” I clarified, trying not to laugh.

  He took a sip and said into his cup, “No.”

  “It’s not a good morning…or…don’t talk to you…?”

  “I’m not a morning person,” he grunted as he put the cup down, his hand still holding it protectively.

  I nodded. “Fair enough. Remind me not to make breakfast plans with you, then.”

  There was a slight smirk on his face, the mere shadow of one hinting at one corner of his mouth “If young people staying up late and sleeping ‘til noon was good enough for Shakespeare, it’s good enough for me.”

  I felt like I knew what he was talking about. “I don’t think that was in the original text.”

  “Should have been.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. “I assume you’ll have spent all night pining away for love of me then.”

  He shot me a humoured look, his green eyes shining. “Well, I certainly wasn’t fucking anyone all night.”

  I tried to hide my smile. “Oh, shucks. And here I thought everyone was invited to the orgy.”

  “Invite must have got lost.”

  “Damn.”

  “Probably a good thing.”

  “Yeah?”

  He nodded as he lifted his cup to his lips again. “I’m useless at orgies. Never know what I’m doing and end up just creepily watching from the corner.”

  “There are always too many limbs,” I mused, of course actually having no idea but imagining there would just be limbs everywhere.

  “Too many limbs?”

  I nodded. “Mhm. They should make that, like, a policy.”

  “What?” he asked. “‘Welcome to the orgy. Here’s your condoms. Leave your limbs at the door,’ kind of thing?”

  I laughed. “Definitely.”

  “Remind me not to go to any orgy you…” a pause, “organise.” He even pronounced it ‘or-jan-ise’.

  I threw him a look to see if he was for real, but Miss Johnson called for our attention and she and Mr Lawrence got the lesson underway.

  We started out with a recap of the expectations. We were meant to be exploring love and how real or not we thought Romeo and Juliet’s love was. We had three days after meeting to determine if love was possible in that timeframe. We were expected to write two thousand words on our experience and how we related that to the relationship in the play, taking into account, of course, contemporary life versus Shakespeare’s time.

  “We’re a bit young for this bollocks, aren’t we?” Ryan asked quietly. I wasn’t entirely sure the question was aimed at me, but oh well.

  I kicked my head. “Juliet was only thirteen.”

  “Wasn’t she sixteen originally?”

  “Still younger than me.”

  He inclined his head in a reluctant agreeing motion. “S’pose we’re all right then.”

  Then it was onto analysis. It seems Our Ladys wasn’t the only class who’d gone through everything up to the balcony scene before hopping on the bus the day before. And since we’d caught up to that in our bogus experiment, it was now time to go through the next bit – Act 2, Scene 3.

  “So,” Miss Johnson started, “here we have Romeo hurrying to the friar to make plans…”

  “Damn. That’s right,” I murmured.

  “What is?” Ryan asked quietly, so as to not interrupt the class.

  “We’re supposed to get married today.”

  He looked thoughtful as he leant towards me. “What do you think they’d do if we actually staged a wedding?”

  He smelled like some kind of aftershave or – judging by the hint of shadow on his face – just deodorant or body spray. I had no idea what it was, but it wasn’t terrible. My brother always wore something hideously musky that made me think of old people. Ryan’s wasn’t like that at all. I just couldn’t put my finger on what it was.

  “Depends,” I replied, trying not to get distracted by the scent. “Do we have to consummate it, too?”

  “Obviously.” His eyes shone with mischievous challenge. “How else do you do it?”

  I nodded. “True. Know any decent friars?”

  “Out here?”

  “No. In Verona.”

  “We travelling for this?” he asked.

  “Where else do you get a decent friar happy to facilitate the secret wedding of a couple of underage kids?” I asked like it was obvious.

  I looked at him and, while his eyes still shone, his mouth and jaw were pensive.

  He licked his lip before replying, “Look, I’ll climb up your terrace. I’ll even marry you. But I’m not sure I’m ready for the commitment of travelling to the other side of the world yet.”

  “Fair. How about friars here, then?”

  “Still can’t help you.” He shook his head.

  “Ah well,” I sighed. “Can’t say we didn’t try.”

  “Jess,” Mr Lawrence called as Miss Johnson said, “Ryan.” They both said a bit about not leading each other astray before realising they were talking at the same time. Then they looked at each other and both tittered.

  We were spared one more look by the awkward teachers, then they went back on with it.

  Deciding it was probably not ideal to be called out by the teachers again, Ryan and I just sat and listened for the rest of the lesson.

  I kept sneaking looks at him and finding him looking at me, then we’d avert our gazes quickly. Or he’d turn to me and find me looking at him. It was the weirdest thing, but any time my head came up with a quip to whatever one of the teachers was saying, I wanted to tell him. I felt completely gypped that I didn’t get to share my hilarity with him and hear whatever he’d reply with.

  Had he been Tibby or Norah, I’d have written it down and passed it to them. But I’d just met the guy, that felt like it’d be weird even for my usual standards. Instead, I satisfied my itching fingers by playing with my pen until lunch.

  4

  Ryan

  Jess was…definitely not what I’d expected. I certainly hadn’t been expecting to have a conversation about orgies in the middle of a lesson. I’d be lying if I said it was the first time, but it was the first time it’d happened with someone I’d just met.

  Our lesson went through until lunch. I spent the whole time wondering what she was thinking. I’d had trouble keeping my eyes off her, this stupid feeling niggling at me
to talk to her – lesson be damned – to say something to make her smile again.

  I was not that guy and it gave me this unnerving nervousness I wasn’t used to.

  “Okay,” Miss Johnson said as she clapped her hands. “I think we’ll leave it there for today. Tomorrow we’ll start with Juliet being told about Tybalt’s death. Lunch is up next.”

  Mr Lawrence picked up the discussion as though they’d practised the whole camp all Summer holidays. “This afternoon, you’ll have time to get to know your partner some more. Swimming will be allowed, as will any activity that takes place on the grass, in the mess hall, or down to the billabong. Don’t forget your sunscreen and your hats.”

  “Discuss the texts. Compare the adaptations. Have a look at the themes. And keep in mind this assignment will be worth a significant portion of your internal grade,” Miss Johnson finished, yelling to be heard over the movement of students.

  Jess shifted and I looked over to see she was standing up.

  “I will…see you after lunch then, I guess?” she asked slowly.

  I nodded. “I’d tell you it’s all good, but I don’t think it’s optional.”

  “Believe me,” she snorted as she started moving away. “I wouldn’t wish my company on my worst enemy.”

  “Aren’t you kinda young for one of those?”

  She shrugged. “I’m just that charming.”

  Her smile warned me she was trouble. The kind of trouble I recognised. The kind of trouble I knew. The kind of trouble I was usually responsible for. The kind of trouble I couldn’t help responding to.

  I leant my elbows on the table. “You think you’re that charming.”

  “Are you saying I’m not charming?” she asked, gasping sarcastically.

  I shrugged and played coy. “I doubt I’m qualified to have an opinion.”

  “Oh, really.” Her mouth was subduing a smile, but her eyes were full of humour. “Well, we’ve only got another three days of forced interaction. Will that qualify you?”

  “Without a doubt.”

  “Great. You let me know when you’ve got an opinion?”

  I nodded. “I will let you know.”

  She just smiled and wandered over to her friends. As she sat next to them, she caught my eye and I was still staring at her when I felt Mark and Ben sit down around me.

  “Well, you look like someone spiked your coffee,” Mark commented.

  I pulled my eyes off Jess and looked at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Mark shrugged. “Just that you look unusually…perky.”

  “I’m not unusually anything,” I told him.

  After waiting for the line to die down, we got up to get our lunch. I saw Jess once in line, exchanging a smile with her, then forced myself not to look at or for her until we were hovering around outside the mess hall after we’d finished eating.

  “I’m just saying, it could be worse,” Ben was saying as I pulled my sunglasses on.

  “Because I’m not a total dog?” came a sassy voice I already recognised too quickly.

  Mark whirled me around like I’d suddenly lost the ability to spin and I came face to face with Jess. It was the first time I’d really looked at her that day. She was wearing much the same thing she’d worn the day before. Her hair was up again. She had that quality in her that said she really didn’t care what anyone else thought of her because she was comfortable in herself. Even having zero interest in attaching any kind of sexual thoughts to her, it was attractive. She was attractive.

  Okay, she was hot.

  I still had needs. It wasn’t going to kill me to admit she was hot.

  “Uh, no. Because you seem…?” Ben wasn’t often at a loss for words. Ben also wasn’t often called out by anyone other than Mark or me.

  “Nice,” Mark finished for him.

  Jess’ lips rose in a cocky half-smile. “It’s adorable you boys care more about our personalities than our looks.”

  “Oh, well…” Mark grinned winningly. “We’re not all shallow arseholes.”

  Jess nodded. “Better man than me, then.” She then proceeded to wink at my friends before looking at me. “You wanna–?”

  “Mark!” came a high-pitched call.

  Jess bit back a laugh. “Oh, that’s me out. Ryan?” She kicked her head and then hurried off before Mark’s Juliet arrived.

  I was lucky to have been blessed with long legs, so I didn’t have to jog to catch up with her stroll.

  “You know her well?” I asked as we fell into step.

  “Your friend’s Juliet?”

  I nodded once. “Her.”

  Jess nodded and we started heading for the billabong like some unspoken agreement. “The girls and I were good friends with her until about year eight, I think it was. We got a whole new influx of kids coming in from the junior schools–”

  “As you do,” I commented dryly – we’d had the same thing at Prince Edwards.

  “As you do,” she agreed. “Anyway, Flick made new best friends and thinks she’s terribly clever and more popular than us now.”

  “You don’t agree?”

  Jess shrugged. “I agree she thinks she is.”

  “So, she’s not more popular than you, then?”

  She threw me a look. “Well, more people like her.”

  I understood Jess’ tone and I totally concurred. “My condolences to her, then.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” she snorted. “So, don’t even think about double-dating.”

  “Won’t be a problem.”

  “Really?”

  She was challenging me again – her eyebrow quirked and all. This time it was whether I was going to play the game or not. But honesty was also required. It was a fine line to tread, but I was more than up to it.

  “Really,” I said slowly. “I’m not big into sharing.”

  She looked me over for a moment, then bit her lip as she nodded. “I’ll remember that.”

  “I’m glad.” We stopped at the bank of the billabong. “Did you have a plan? It’s a little early for the suicide scene.”

  “Drowning isn’t very thematic.”

  I pointed to her. “True.”

  “Okay. So, marriage is out,” Jess said as she dropped to the bank.

  I followed suit and sat next to her. “Until we find a friar.”

  She nodded. “That. What shall we do instead?”

  “What are we supposed to be doing again?” I knew, I was just hoping she’d forgotten and we could do…anything else instead.

  “Trying to find something in each other worth loving.”

  I sighed, “Because that’s how it works…”

  “All right. Then, tell me about yourself.”

  “What’s not to love?” I asked sarcastically.

  “You tell me. So far I’ve seen nothing to love.”

  I threw her a look. “Oh, good. Here I was, worrying you were hopelessly smitten.”

  She grinned. “Afraid not. Sorry.”

  I shrugged. “Don’t apologise. This whole this is ridiculous.”

  “Right?” she asked, relaxing back on her hands. “Utter bullshit.”

  I nodded. “Don’t tell me you’re the cliched cynic in this piece?” I asked. “Destined to be an old maid surrounded by cats?”

  “I’m more of a dog person, actually.”

  “Hardly the traditional image of the spinster aunt, then.”

  She shrugged. “I like to break the systematic shaming of women over a certain age who don’t feel the need to be tied down by useless baggage.”

  I had to hand it to her, she was a girl after my own heart. As it were.

  “Besides,” she continued, “if I’m the clichéd cynic, what does that make you?”

  I huffed a breath as I thought about that. “I’d have to say I’m the bad boy afraid to love again.”

  “I don’t think your traditional bad boy would admit to being afraid to be honest.”

  I wouldn’t say I was afraid either. “No?�
��

  “No.”

  “I thought that was a trope.”

  “Oh, it’s a trope. They just don’t say that about themselves. Too brooding and emotionally stunted and all that.”

  Of course they were. “Ah, my bad. Right. So that would make me…?” I paused. “The strong man refusing to waste his time on the ridiculous feminine notion of love?”

  “Yeah. That sounds about right.”

  I looked at her and saw the smile I’d heard in her voice. “Oh, does it?” I asked, unable to stop smiling in response.

  “Yes, it does,” she laughed.

  “Okay, then,” I laughed with her.

  We sat in what I thought was a companionable silence for a while as we looked out over the billabong. Well, we were silent. All around us, were our classmates laughing and talking and squealing. Water splashed. There was the occasional whack synonymous with sports. It was peaceful. Sort of. It was pleasant. Sort of. But it wasn’t going to get me through my assignment. Damn it.

  “Aren’t I meant to kill your cousin this afternoon?” I mused.

  “Who says you’re Romeo?”

  I found it hard to hide my smile again, so I looked back out over the billabong and hoped she wouldn’t notice it. “You wanna be Romeo?”

  “Why not?”

  I nodded. “I agree.”

  “Have you got any cousins for me to kill?”

  “Uh...yeah, actually. One’s a constant dick. Feel free to kill him.”

  “Okay.” She pulled her legs up as she brushed a strand of hair from her lipgloss. “Consider him killed.”

  “He should probably kill your best friend first,” I reminded her.

  Jess inclined her head. “Look, it’s only fair.”

  “Which one would that be?”

  She looked back to where Tibby and Norah were with their Romeos. “I’ve known Norah longer, I guess.”

  “Who hates love more?”

  She sniggered. “That would me.”

  Was it weird I liked that about her?

  Okay, maybe not liked.

  Appreciated. I appreciated that about her.

  “I figured” I told her. “After you?”

  “They’re both pretty high on the hopeless romantic scale, but I’d say Tibby. Norah likes to think she’s not such a romantic, so she hides it. Poorly.”