Running from Romeo

by Diane Mannino

  I get back to the house I share with Bryn. The cream-colored stucco cottage is a welcome sight. The shutters are painted an earthy green and there’s a small front veranda. Bryn and I just planted white roses in three terra cotta pots on the front porch and I notice that they are already in full bloom. I walk up the winding stone path and notice the front door is ajar.

  Nervously, I peek in and call, “Bryn, you home?” She nearly knocks me on the ground when she dives at me. “Welcome home, Emilia! Let’s celebrate our first day!”

  “Jeez, Bryn. I love your enthusiasm but you scared me to death!”

  She bounds towards me and proudly displays a red velvet cake. “I’m sorry I scared you,” Bryn says sincerely. “Look, I made your favorite.” Yum. Red Velvet. Bryn eagerly continues, “Let’s eat cake and then go to Elsie’s Tavern.”

  “I like the eating the cake part but I think I’ll pass on Elsie’s.”

  “Oh. I thought you were going to be a party animal this year,” teases Bryn.

  “I said I’d go to Josh’s on Saturday,” I innocently smile and hope that’s acceptable to Bryn. She is hard to say no to. “I know I promised to get out of the library and have more fun our last year. Just remember this is new to me…baby steps, okay?”

  Bryn reluctantly relents, “Okay, Emilia. Baby steps. Now tell me about your day. Anything exciting happen?”

  I try to sound casual, “No – just the same old. I’m excited to have Professor Meyer for Shakespeare.” She is one of my favorite teachers. She’s so passionate about literature that every word that is written seems so special. But Bryn can tell I am holding something back.

  I try and change the subject, “How was your day?”

  “What are you hiding from me, Miss King?” she goads. I can’t contain my shock and I burst out laughing. “What’s so funny?” Bryn asks.

  “Sorry,” I giggle. I try to hold back my laughter.

  “Nothing. I just had to interview someone for Studio One this morning since Erin wasn’t available. He kept referring to me as Miss King.”

  I’m hoping Bryn will drop the subject but she presses me further, “Oh…who?”

  “Who? Another senior. It was a rather dull interview,” I try and sound disinterested.

  But there’s no fooling Bryn.

  “Dull? Your eyes lit up when I called you Miss King so if you think you are fooling me, think again.”

  She plops down on the white denim slipcovered couch and pats the spot next to her.

  “Come and sit and tell me all about your dull interview.” She grins.

  “Please, Bryn. Stop teasing. It was dull. Just some guy named Logan Prescott.” But when I say his name I can feel my face redden. What’s with my face always feeling flush when I think about him?

  “Logan Prescott?” Bryn frowns. “He’s the son of one of the top ten richest men in America. Last year, his dad was like number six on Forbes Top 100 list.”

  Of course Bryn would know this because she is also from a wealthy family. Her father is a big Hollywood producer.

  “Yes, that’s him,” I mutter.

  “Do you like him?” Bryn asks failing to hide her disgust.

  “No. Are you kidding? He was extremely arrogant and kind of rude.” I think about calling him cocky and I blush.

  “Hmm…Why do you seem so affected when you talk about him?” Bryn scrutinizes me.

  “I’m not affected by him. It was just awkward. You know how I don’t like interviewing people.” Bryn knows this is true.

  She finally relents, “Well, good. I’m glad he’s not affecting you. That guy is an egotistical womanizer and has got quite the reputation. Besides, you are way too good for him.”

  “Please, he’s out of my league.” I say.

  “No guy is out of your league. When are you going to realize that you are quite the catch?” Bryn says.

  I’m desperate to change the subject.

  “How about some of that cake?” I grin.

  It’s finally Friday and even though it was a short school week I’m exhausted. On the weekends I work at Spyder Surf. It’s a popular surf shop on State Street.

  I’ve worked there ever since I was a freshman. I’m not a surfer, but since my dad surfs I knew quite a bit about the surfing world before I started to work there which comes in handy since all we sell is surfboards and other surf necessities.

  Mr. and Mrs. Sutton are kind, warm employers and I’m always happy to see them. Today, I’m especially relieved to be at work to keep my mind off Logan Prescott. It’s annoying that it’s been a couple days since that uncomfortable interview and I still keep thinking about him and his piercing blue eyes.

  I work for just a couple hours by helping Mrs. Sutton open the new UPS shipment. There are five huge packages filled with Billabong shorts, Quicksilver trunks, Roxy bikinis and a wide variety of tees and tanks. We organize, sort, and restock the shelves. It’s busy work but mission accomplished. No time for thoughts about piercing blue eyes.

  Bryn would be horrified if she knew I’m slightly obsessing about Logan Prescott. She made it clear that she is not a fan. I know I will get him out of my head. Next week, I will have a full class load and will be far too busy with books, papers and studying.

  When I return home, Bryn is sitting on the couch with a pint of Haagen-Dazs. She hears me come through the door and quickly turns her head in my direction. I plop myself on the couch next to her.

  “How was work?” She says with a curious spark in her eyes.

  I’m not sure where she’s going with this but I’m too tired to care.

  “Work was fine. Emptied a bunch of boxes. Really exciting stuff.” I say.

  She offers me the container of Haagen-Dazs with her spoon in it. I happily take a bite. Yum. Rum Raisin.

  “Well, I just finished watching ‘Live from Studio One.’ It was quite – hmm – what’s the word I’m looking for? Entertaining.” Bryn says.

  I’m enjoying my spoonful of ice cream and trying to act indifferent.

  She adds, “Mr. Prescott obviously is attracted to you but that’s no surprise. He’d be a complete idiot if he wasn’t.”

  Ugh. I feel my face go red. I nervously twist a strand of my hair and try to gather my thoughts.

  “He was just being accommodating.” I say in a casual tone.

  “Accommodating? That’s what you call all that sexual tension? He’s a player, Emilia. Just…take baby steps.” She says, remembering my earlier words.

  “Jeez, Bryn. He is out of my league and I wouldn’t be interested even if you were right.”

  “He is drop dead gorgeous. You can’t deny that, Miss King.” Damn, she won’t let this go.

  “Please stop with the Miss King. Yes, he’s a good-looking guy.” I say.

  Bryn arches her perfectly threaded eyebrow, “Just good-looking?”

  “Gah! Okay he is probably the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. You happy?” I snap.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to tease. Well, that’s not true. I do mean to tease. I’m your closest friend…your best friend. You have an obligation to tell me these things,” she playfully baits.

  “He’s very arrogant. It annoys me that he affected me so much,” I try to be honest.

  “You handled him well. I can’t believe you called him a cocky, spoiled brat!”

  “You are misquoting me,” I laugh. “But, yea, not one of my better moments.”

  “I think Logan Prescott enjoyed you giving him a piece of your mind. I’m sure he’s not used to that. In fact, he looked like he was quite caught up in your spell.”

  “Oh, please, Bryn! I think you have that mixed up.”

  “This is a first. You are captivated by someone of the male species and it’s SBU’s most eligible bachelor,” Bryn jokes.

  We are about to walk to the kitchen to get a bite to eat when Bryn turns and says, “By the way what did he whisper to you at the end of the interview?”

  “Something about when will I see yo
u next time. I think he was referring to my sign-off and was curious about when the show airs.”

  “Oh please. Are you kidding?” Then she takes my hands, does a little dance and sings, “He likes you. He wants to see you again.”

  We are all giggles. Then Bryn turns stone-faced and says, “That good-looking bastard better not mess with you!”

  2

  THERE ARE TWO THINGS that I am passionate about: reading and running. It’s Saturday morning and I’m eager to get up and go for a run. I roll out of bed and slide on my Nike running shorts and matching tank. I glance at my reflection in the mirror and see my red, weary eyes. Another restless night, I squirt in some Visine and pull my hair up into a ponytail.

  I started competitively running in sixth grade when I joined the cross-country team. I ran cross-country and track all through high school. My success in meets and my remarkable times established me as one of the top high school runners in the state.

  This made it possible for me to get a full ride to SBU. When I’m not running with the team I love running by myself. I feel like I’m always training for the next meet. But it’s not just the competition that gets to me. It’s the feeling I get from pounding on the pavement. It clears my head, makes me feel strong and gives me purpose.

  I quietly walk down the stairs because Bryn is still asleep. I grab some blueberries and a Greek yogurt. I take a seat on the step on the back porch and watch as the sun rises.

  This is my favorite part of the day. There is nothing more beautiful than watching the sky before the sun rises. I love the way the sky looks like its been painted in beautiful pastels. Then the sun slowly starts to rise and the orange, pink and lavender hues melt away. Once the pastels diminish from the sky, the sun turns the sky into a brilliant blue.

  It’s a comforting feeling…that feeling of starting a new day. It’s much more comforting than the night.

  I clean off my spoon and throw it in the dishwasher. I tiptoe back up the stairs, brush my teeth and grab my iPod. I’m back downstairs and doing my five-minute stretching when Bryn walks in the room.

  “I wish I was as dedicated and motivated as you,” she yawns.

  “Would you like to join me?” I ask.

  “I’ll join you on a run as soon as you join me at one of my yoga or pilates classes.” She teases.

  Bryn knows this will never happen just as I know she will never join me on a run. I went to one of her pilates classes and hated it. It’s not for me. I need to be outdoors. I crave the feeling I get from the wind blowing in my face and the thumping of my feet on the pavement. It’s exhilarating.

  “You running with someone from the team?” Bryn asks.

  “No. I’m just going by myself. I won’t be too long. I have to get to work by ten o’clock.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t go by yourself.” She says. Bryn likes to worry about me.

  “If I’m not back in an hour you can call search and rescue,” I tease.

  I turn up my iPod and listen to Bruno Mars sing, “Runaway Baby.”

  Well looky here looky here

  Ah what do we have?

  Another pretty thang ready for me to grab

  But little does she know

  That I’m a wolf in sheep’s clothing

  Cause at the end of the night

  It is her I’ll be holding

  I love you so.

  That’s what you’ll say.

  You’ll tell me.

  Baby, baby please don’t go away.

  But when I play, I never stay

  To every girl that I meet here this is what I say:

  Run run run away, run away baby

  Before I put a spell on you

  Your poor little heart will end up alone

  ‘Cause lord knows I’m a rolling stone

  So you better run run run away run away baby

  Well let me think let me think

  Ah what should I do?

  So many eager young bunny’s

  That I’d like to pursue

  Now even now they eating out the palm of my hand

  There’s only one carrot and they all gotta share it

  I love you so

  That’s what you’ll say

  Baby baby please don’t go away

  But when I play, I never stay

  To every girl that I meet here this is what I say:

  Run, run run away, run away baby

  Before I put my spell on you

  You better get get get away get away darling

  ‘Cause everything you heard is true

  Your poor little heart will end up alone

  ‘Cause lord knows I’m a rolling stone

  So you better run run run away run away baby

  See I ain’t try to hurt you baby

  No no, no I just wanna work you baby

  See I ain’t try to hurt you baby

  No, no, no I just wanna work you baby

  You better run

  You better run

  You better you better you better

  After I run I stop at the SBU track to stretch. I see Sebastian Hyde out of the corner of my eye. Oh no. I hope he doesn’t notice me. No such luck.

  I see him striding over to me just as I’m about to head home. Sebastian has brown hair that sweeps over his head. His eyes are also brown but they are so dark that they look eerily black. He’s also on the cross-country team but he’s not very good which is probably due to his incessant smoking.

  I try to act like I don’t see him but he is impossible to avoid when he gets just inches from my face. I can feel his hot breath and I smell the stench of cigarettes. Gross. What is it – about nine in the morning and he’s already smoked?

  “Hey Emilia, you are looking mighty fine. When are we going to get together and go out?”

  “Seriously, Sebastian. For the thousandth time, we are never going out.”

  “I want to take you out. I’m not just talking about having sex. I’ve liked you since Early British Literature – our freshman year and this is how you treat me?”

  “How am I treating you? I politely said never.”

  “You’re such a bitch. I could really show you a good time. Wine and dine you. It’s your loss, honey.” And with that he turns and marches off.

  I shake my head. That guy has some serious issues. I don’t know what his problem is but good luck to whoever dates his sorry ass. My heart is pounding and I sprint home.

  After showering, I put on my favorite pair of faded jeans and throw on a white tank top.

  Bryn strides in my room like a supermodel.

  “You like?” She spins in a circle and shows off a revealing but beautiful one-shoulder dress. It’s turquoise and looks stunning on her sun-kissed skin.

  “I’m going to wear this to Josh’s party tonight. You think he’ll like?” She asks.

  “I think he’ll love,” I beam at Bryn. Josh Harding has been Bryn’s on-and-off-and-on-and-off boyfriend since we started at SBU.

  “You sure? I can try on option number two?” She’s eyeing herself in the mirror behind me.

  “I’m positive. As much as I would love to sit and watch my favorite fashion show…I have to get to work. I’m going to be late. It’s Saturday and it’s the store’s busiest day so I need to move it.”

  “Why don’t I give you a lift? I need to head into town to pick-up a couple things.”

  “You are a lifesaver, Bryn. That would be awesome.”

  The store is already filled with people when I get there. I recognize several of the familiar faces – local surfers. There are also some people that look like tourists.

  “Good to see you, Emilia,” Mr. Sutton says appreciatively. After the morning rush, there’s a quiet lull around lunchtime.

  “Mrs. Sutton and I are going to grab a quick bite to eat. Are you okay handling things on your own for a bit?” Mr. Sutton kindly asks.

  “No problem, Mr. Sutton. I can always text you if it gets crazy again. You and Mrs. S go and have some fun
,” I playfully tease.

  Mr. Sutton laughs, “Can we pick you something up? Salad? Sandwich?”

  “No. I’m good. I brought a Kind bar and some almonds. Thanks for asking.” I say.

  “If you change your mind and want some real food…you can text us.”

  I’m alone in the shop so I decide to tidy up the store to keep busy. I grab a soft cloth from under the counter and start to lightly dust off the

  surfboards that line the back wall. While I dust, I move my hips and sing to the music that plays on the iPod dock with speakers. It’s one of my favorite songs, “Everybody Talks” by one of my favorite groups, Neon Trees.

  Hey baby won’t you look my way.

  I can be your new addiction.

  Hey baby, what you gotta say?

  All you’re giving me is fiction.

  I’m a sorry sucker and this happens all the time.

  I found out that everybody talks

  Everybody talks, everybody talks

  It started with a whisper

  And that was when I kissed her

  And then she made my lips hurt

  I could hear the chit chat

  Take me to your love shack

  Mamas always gotta backtrack

  When everybody talks back

  Hey honey you could be my drug

  You could be my new prescription

  Too much could be an overdose

  All this trash talk make me itchin

  Oh my my sugar

  Everybody talks, everybody talks

  Everybody talks, too much

  It started with a whisper

  And that was when I kissed her

  And then she made my lips hurt

  I could hear the chit chat

  Take me to your love shack

  Mamas always gotta backtrack

  When everybody talks back

  Everybody talks

  Everybody talks…back

  I can sense that I’m not alone in the store any longer. I turn and find myself staring at Logan Prescott. Oh My God! How long has he been standing there?

  He applauds and smiles, “Nice show.”