Another Kind of Shakespearean Romance
Author
J.A.M.
Reads
55.1K
Chapters
33
“Take your shirt off,” Theo says. “For medical reasons.” 😇 Because nothing screams self-control like stitching up the guy who used to flirt with your crush.
Theo is trying to be normal. He’s trying to go to class, drink coffee, and pretend the café humiliation didn’t happen. Then at 2 a.m. his buzzer goes off, and Hamlet is on the other side with a bloody eyebrow and a stubborn little “I’m not going to the hospital.” So Theo drags him inside anyway, plays reluctant nurse, and tells himself he’s doing the right thing. Except Hamlet cleans his apartment like he lives there, cooks like he’s auditioning for Husband, and wanders out wearing Theo’s briefs like that’s a reasonable Tuesday. Theo should kick him out. He does not kick him out. You, however, will be screaming into your pillow. Theo’s fingers spread ointment over bruises he wasn’t supposed to see, Hamlet makes a sound he definitely wasn’t supposed to make, and then the phone rings… and Theo answers. “Is this the boy working the streets?” a man slurs.
Chapter 1: The Heartbreak in the Café
THEO
“Listen to me, both of you, I don’t like you. Not in that way. Either of you. Christ, seriously, I’m tired of being caught in this sick game you two have made up. Just stop it, okay? I’m seriously done.”
Every word out of her mouth feels like a punch to the gut. Like everything I’ve worked toward this past year is crumbling right in front of me, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
I force out a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “Hey, where is this coming from, Mona? Game? What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what the hell I’m talking about, Theo.”
I glance to my right and notice the asshole, Hamlet, is keeping quiet for once. His eyes are glued to the table. It’s weird, considering he usually can’t help but jump in every time I say something to Mona.
I know it’s a bad idea, but I do it anyway. I play dumb.
“I’m sorry, Mona, I really don’t know what you mean. I thought we were just hanging out like always.”
“You want me to be a bitch? I can be a bitch.” She leans back in her chair and crosses her arms. “I don’t know how slick you think you are, Theo Montague, but you’re way more transparent than you think.”
She narrows her eyes at me, and I swear the look could burn a hole straight through my chest. Even against her dark skin, I can see the flush of anger spreading across her cheeks.
“I tried to be subtle but clear that I had no intention of dating right now. And you said you’d accept that, yet you kept trying to be cute. Even if I wanted to date, you wouldn’t be one of my choices. First, you’re way too short for my liking.”
The silent asshole finally shows signs of life when he snickers at the insult.
“No idea why you’re laughing, chuckles,” Mona says, pointing her finger at Hamlet.
His smirk drops immediately.
“I was just as clear with you. And yet, you followed Theo’s every pitiful attempt at flirting. Since I don’t want you to be too high on yourself, I wouldn’t date you either. Unlike Theo, you’re borderline a giant, but you’re so skinny that I’m pretty sure I’d break you in half if I touched you.”
She grabs her bag and pushes back from the table.
“Please don’t talk to me at school anymore, Theo.” She shifts her glare to Hamlet. “And if you see me anywhere, Hamlet, just leave me alone.”
She takes her phone in hand and heads toward the door. She pauses, and I hold my breath as she turns back, hoping maybe she’s about to reconsider.
“Maybe since you’re both so hot and bothered, you could try fucking each other,” she snaps with a sarcastic smile. “Who knows? You might learn something about yourselves.”
The only saving grace I see in this whole mess is that the café is empty except for us and the new kid, who’s too busy making our drinks to even bother with our conversation.
I was supposed to surprise Mona with the movie tickets I already bought, but that’s sure as hell not happening anymore. So I pull out my phone and message my coworker, telling her I can take her closing shift today.
When I put it away, I realize that I’m not alone at the table.
I let out a long, annoyed sigh as I glance at the asshole. “What the fuck are you still doing here?”
Hamlet looks up from the table. His intense ocean-blue eyes peer at me through dirty-blond bangs. If looks could kill, I’d be dead right now.
“This is a café. I’m waiting for my drink.” He clicks his tongue and leers at me, smiling. “What are you still doing here, shortcake?”
“I can sit wherever I damn well please, asshole. After all, it’s not my fault that Mona left, it’s yours.” I let out a bitter laugh. “I mean, just fucking look at the state of you. You come here in your worn-down rags, stinking like a fucking ashtray and looking like a goddamn homeless vampire, and you, what? Expect to get the girl?”
I know I’m lashing out because I’m hurt, but Mona was nice. She made me laugh, and she was cute. That was the kind of girl Mom said I should end up with so I could live a happy life. It’d been a long time since I met someone who fit all three criteria.
“We take a lot of classes together, which is going to be fucking awkward as hell now. Honestly, she was the main reason I was sailing through a lot of them. She’s smart as hell, and all of that is fucked because you really thought you had a chance here.”
The laugh that comes out of me is venomous. I look away from Hamlet, unsure why I’m so upset.
“If you just wanted a fuck, you could’ve gone to some corner whore and paid to get some,” I hiss. “Since there’s no chance in hell that anyone would actually pay for you.”
A few beats of silence pass between us when I look back up to see Hamlet’s eyes brimming with tears. My heart sinks. I’m about to apologize when he pushes his chair back and stares me down, fists at his sides.
From where I’m sitting, Hamlet looks far more towering than he usually does. I’m completely aware that even as skinny as he is, if he wants to kick my ass, he could.
I brace for the potential physical confrontation when his fists relax at his sides, and his tense body deflates. His voice comes out in such a pained whisper that the sound of it pangs at my chest.
“Why are you such a fucking asshole?”
Without waiting for an answer, Hamlet takes two steps back and just looks at me. Something inexplicable passes through his eyes before he turns and leaves.
Alone in the café, I try to make sense of everything that just happened. Mona breaking up with us, me using Hamlet as a metaphorical punching bag, and Hamlet’s eyes at the end. It’s way too early in the day for all of this.
“Latte for Theo?”
At the sound of the barista, I get up and take my bag, seeing as there’s no point in staying here anyway.
Handing me my drink, the new kid blurts out, “Sorry about taking so long. I was supposed to have a trainer with me today, but she’s sick or whatever, and I’ve never made a freaking coffee like this in my life. And I have no idea where everything is.”
Good God. “It’s fine,” I say, giving him the most charming smile I can fake. I’ve become a master of the craft by now. “It looks great. Could I get it in a to-go cup?”
The kid nods, his eyes sparkling with my compliment.
“Next time you come by, I can give you a discount,” he says, handing my drink back.
“That would be nice.”
He looks behind me before passing me a sugary monstrosity with Hamlet’s name scribbled on it. “Did your…friend step out?”
Friend? Out of every word in the English language, I think that would be one of the last words I’d ever use to describe Hamlet.
“I can take it to him,” I lie.
The kid smiles again, inching forward on the counter and licking his pink lips. I notice the gloss on them and wonder if it’s flavored, then chase the ridiculous thought away.
“Well, hope you have a nice day, Theo.”
“Thanks,” I say, flustered for some reason.
Taking Hamlet’s sugary monstrosity, I leave the café.
Outside, the sounds of the city rattle me for a moment, as does the glaring sun, and I wish I could pat myself on the back for remembering to take my sunglasses today.
As expected, Hamlet is nowhere to be seen.
I take a sip of the latte, finding it lukewarm at best. The new kid clearly made mine before he attempted to construct Hamlet’s Franken-drink. Chugging down my coffee, I throw away the cup before starting my journey home, deciding to try Hamlet’s drink of choice.
It turns out to be just as incredibly sweet as I thought. However, I enjoy its caramel flavor and the whipped cream. I doubt that I’d spend that much money on such an expensive drink for myself.
Before I’m even halfway done with Hamlet’s drink, the realization that Hamlet was right dawns on me. I am a fucking asshole.
***
The ringing wakes me with a start. The darkness of my room is disorienting. I blindly search for my cell to look at the time. 2:11 a.m.
Am I dreaming?
The ringing comes again. It’s from the door panel in the living room. With a string of expletives that would make a sailor blush, I rip the warm covers away as I stomp my way to the panel, cursing at the coldness of the apartment.
“Who the fuck is this?” I ask, switching from the speaking button to the listening button.
“It’s me. Hamlet.”
Hamlet? How does he even know where I live? What is he even doing here?
“Are you fucking insane? Did you follow me home?” I wait for an answer, but nothing comes. “What the fuck do you want? Have you seen the time?”
There’s silence, but I know the machine is working. I can hear the howling wind from the outside coming through.
“I know, it’s late. I’m sorry for that.”
I can hear his teeth clattering.
“I didn’t know where else to go.”
“Not here,” I say back immediately. “It’s late as fuck, and I have class in the morning. Whatever it is, you can come back at a normal time.”
I don’t even know why I offered for him to come back because I’m sure as hell never letting him in my place. I head back to bed and dive into the warm, cozy covers.
Apparently, I missed the news about the cold front coming through tonight, and my portable heater was already put away, so I had all the blankets I could find stacked on my bed.
I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself. How did that crazy bastard even find where I live?
It’s been a little over a week since the café incident. Mona and I keep to ourselves in class. I would survive the awkwardness, but that doesn’t mean I want to see Hamlet at all, especially at my own damn place.
I toss and turn, unable to get comfortable or warm as I think about Hamlet out there. I look at my cell again. 2:28 a.m.
I’m going to have a shit day at school tomorrow. I just know it.
The weather app on my screen says it’s twenty-two degrees out.
I hope he went home. Even if he’s an asshole, this cold could kill. I don’t think he has a coat or anything.
I groan, that nagging thought dragging me out of bed again and back to the panel.
“Are you still there?”
The howling wind is still there, but a shaky voice finally answers me. “I’m still here.”
“Fuck’s sake,” I growl. “Get inside. What’s wrong with you?”
I press the door button for five seconds before rushing to the bathroom and putting on a robe. It’s not warm, but it’s better than nothing. I rush back to the door and wait for a knock.
It’s five minutes later, and I’m still waiting. It shouldn’t take more than two or three minutes to get to my door. I’m about to go to bed when there’s the lightest rap on the other side.
I take off the security chain, ready to unleash hell, but every snide comment I have dies when I’m greeted by Hamlet’s bloody face.
Hamlet’s teeth chatter as he gives me a weak smile and says, “Hey there, shortcake.”
