Page 50 of Bullied By The Bad Boy

“Nuh-uh, I don’t want to kiss Mother Theresa. How about we do a Romeo-Romeo? Or Whitney plays Juliet? She, I can kiss,” Noah says. His voice snaps me out of my daydream. Chuckles follow his remark, and I chew on the inside of my lip. Ms. Jota opens her mouth to say something but his head rounds to a giggling Whitney. “Yo, Whitney. What do you think? Want to be my Juliet?”

As I rise to my feet, a new wave of anger rolls off me. The sound of their laughter increases, and my fists clench at my sides. I beat Whitney or Ms. Jota to reply to the mannerless prick. I won’t let him take this moment from me. “Even if I have a gun pointed at my head, I won’t kiss you.”

Fury shadows Noah’s face at the hoots and cheers that follow my clapback. I match his stony gaze with a wicked smile, and he finally looks away after a few seconds of intense glaring.

Who wants to touch that public toilet he calls his lips? I am sure his mouth has been on half the cheerleading squad and places I never want to talk about. Disgusting fellow. Ben, I can kiss.

On instinct, my eyes locate Ben. He arches a brow, and a corner of his lips lifts in a smirk. I pretend to be unaffected by him. He’s so fine without even trying. If only he isn’t an asshole or is as nice as Asher. I plop on my seat, and a smile finally breaks out on my lips. He’s impressed.

I impressed Ben.

A stifling silence takes over the hall. I look up to see Ms. Jota glaring at me, and I shrink in my seat. Her disappointment is heavy. Noah started it first. “There will be no kissing anybody in this place, Noah. And nobody, no one will be pointing a gun to anyone’s head.” She narrows her eyes at everyone seated as if asking if we get the point. “Settle down now. Tessa, join me on stage.”

Thirty

A hush fallsover the hall. I head for the stage, nearly exploding with anxiety. Someone puts out a leg to trip me. Ben. My eyes lift to his face, and he smirks. Idiot. My heart beats against my chest, I feel eyes on the back of my head, and all I want to do is scream. Instead, I hurry to join Ms. Jota.

She points to a line in her script—scene two. “We can start from here today,” she says. Unable to talk, I can only nod. Her arm lowers, and she frowns at my empty hands. “Where’s your script?”

My finger juts out in the direction of my bag, and she lifts a thin eyebrow, probably wondering why I left it there. I forgot it in my hurry. “Do you know the lines?” I don’t know how I manage to move my head, but I do, and she walks off the stage. When she’s downstage, she says, “Start.”

Blondie puts two fingers in his mouth to let out a whistle of support, and Ben kicks the back of the boy’s chair. Ms. Jota’s stern gaze lands on them. Blondie offers her a sheepish apology, but Ben shrugs. She ignores them, and her eyes fall back to me. “Tessa, over to you. We are waiting.”

I don’t know why my gaze scrolls to Ben. He frowns when I delay, and I lose focus.

He’s making me nervous.

The scene opens up with Romeo sneaking into Juliet’s room. I know the words she says to him and his replies, but they evaporate into thin air once I open my mouth. I can’t remember.

“Tessa, do you need help?”

My mind blanks. Ms. Jota walks up to me with a script. I accept it from her with a small smile.

“It’s okay. You can read from the script today.” But that’s not my problem. That boy in front with a smug smile playing on his lips is. She gives me a thumbs up. “You can do it. Go on, Tessa.”

The lines blur. I shake off the nerves and pretend there’s no one watching. I can’t fuck this up. Ms. Jota must not regret making me Juliet. With my nerves under partial control, I clear my throat and let it flow. To the thin air where Romeo should have been, I say, “Good night, good night.”

As I continue, I start to really get into it. I can tell something is lacking in my performance, but I am not sure, so I don’t dwell on it. I soon forget about the script as the lines flow from my lips.

“Your emotion, Tessa.” The disapproving tone permeates my bubble. I pause without turning to Ms. Jota because turning means facing Ben. “Put your heart into it just like you did yesterday.”

Only yesterday, there wasn’t a group of hot jerks hoping I failed. My head jerks furiously in a nod. The crowd will be massive on the D-day, and I’ll have to still perform.

Ms. Jota’s voice breaks through my thoughts a second time. “Again. Do it again. You have to make the audience feel it.” The bells in my head trip when I hear a snicker. I don’t bother to confirm the source, but it heightens my nervousness. “Tessa? We don’t have all day. Start over.”

And so, I start all over. My nerves are worse this time. I can hear them in my voice. My palms grow sweaty, and my speech falters multiple times. Ms. Jota stops me from continuing and walks over to the stage. I look down at her, and my teeth sink into my lip as she crosses her arms.

“What’s going on, Theresa?” She called me by my full name. She’s disappointed in me. Tears burn the back of my eyes. I’m nervous, but I can do this. “You were doing so good yesterday.”

“She needs her mask, Ms. Jota,” someone yells. “Can’t do shit without it.”

What mask? Juliet doesn’t need a mask for this scene.

“Language, Mister Carter.”

Mister Carter. Benjamin Carter.

My eyes snap to the audience to find him, and he cocks his head as if daring me to argue back. I would have if Ms. Jota was not here. Hasn’t he gotten over losing that match to me? He won all his games after that. I know because we both qualified for the All-Rounder coming up next year.

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