Page 35 of His Juliet

Juliet

Not really. Thanksgiving isn’t really my thing

What about you?

At least, it hadn’t been for the past couple of years. The last Thanksgiving I celebrated was before everything happened. Breanna, Vivian, Daniela, and I had gone to this hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant in Harlem near our group home. It was owned by an older couple, and throughout the years, we’d gotten to know them, their kids, and their grandkids. Viv translated their Mandarin when needed and taught us phrases to say in return.

That Thanksgiving, we’d stayed late into the night as we laughed and talked about school and internships and our dreams for the future, not knowing that everything would fall apart shortly after and we’d never return to that Chinese restaurant again.

Romeo

It’s not a huge thing for me, either. My mom always said she didn’t understand why she should spend so long cooking a turkey when we could have pasta

Juliet

I’m having pasta for dinner

Spaghetti from a box and sauce from a jar. Somehow I didn’t think that’s how Romeo’s mother would do it.

Romeo

I knew you had good taste

* * *

Romeo

How’s your day going?

Juliet

Ugh people are so annoying today. Books are so much better.

Romeo

What are people doing?

Juliet

This guy just came into the bookstore and was so condescending talking to me about how romance books aren’t “real literature” blah blah blah. And I just had to be polite.

Romeo

What’s his name, baby?

Juliet

*snort* Why, are you going to hunt him down and yell at him?

Romeo

Yes

Juliet

You’re cute

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