Tangled in Red Threads

First on the List

Chapter 45: First on the List

The list sat on the counter like a quiet dare.

Romeo didn't say yes. He didn't need to.

Because the next afternoon, just before his evening class, Juliet was already outside the café, leaning against the wall with two iced drinks in hand, one green and foamy, one dark and sweet.

She handed him his without a word, her eyes scanning his expression like she was unsure if he'd already gone to class.

"I've got clear schedule today," he said casually, nodding to the list tucked in his jacket pocket. "Pick something that won't get us arrested."

Juliet gave a laugh, breathless with nerves. "So... skydiving with lit torches is off the table?"

He smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching like she'd said something impossibly endearing. "For now."

They ended up halfway out of town in Juliet's grandma's old pickup truck, borrowed with a wink and a "Don't be late for dinner" from the woman herself.

Juliet tapped the paper list taped to the dashboard. "Okay," she murmured. "Number six."

Break into the abandoned greenhouse and watch the sunset.

When they arrived, the greenhouse had been even more destroyed and a lot quieter.

Romeo raised an eyebrow. "Still standing?"

"Barely," she grinned, quickly exiting the passenger door with a squeak.

The greenhouse stood at the edge of the woods, long forgotten, its glass panels cracked, ivy crawling through the seams. Juliet slipped through a missing panel with the ease of someone who'd done this before. Romeo followed, his hand briefly brushing her back to steady her as they ducked under a low beam.

Dust floated in the golden air like glitter.

It was warmer inside than expected. Sunlight poured in through fractured glass, painting dappled patterns across the dirt-covered floor and the half-crumbling plant beds.

"It's... still kinda beautiful," she whispered, spinning slowly in the light.

Romeo just watched her.

The way her eyes sparkled when she turned. The way her smile curved when she wasn't trying to hide it. She looked so effortlessly herself here.

Like the girl from high school who once carved his initials into a potted cactus and dared him not to smile.

Juliet plopped down onto an old garden bench, patting the space beside her.

He sat.

For a while, they just watched the sky shift through the glass ceiling, the orange deepening into crimson, then indigo.

She was the one who broke the silence.

"You know I almost never wanted to come back," she said, voice soft.

Romeo's gaze flickered to her. "I figured."

"I thought I'd be ruining something. Or maybe... ruining you."

"You didn't," he said quickly. Too quickly. His jaw tensed.

Juliet stared at her hands. "Charlie made it easy to pretend I didn't miss this place. Or you. But being home... I can't fake it anymore."

The air between them thickened.

Romeo leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. "So why do you still let him pick you up after class?"

Her eyes shot to his, surprised. "How'd you know he does that?"

He replied dryly. "I've ran into you both once."

Juliet blinked, cheeks warming. "Oh." 

Romeo turned his head, pretending not to notice. "Does he know you're here right now?"

Juliet hesitated, then pulled something from her pocket.

His coat string.

Frayed at the end, still faintly smelling of roasted coffee beans and the faintest trace of cologne.

"I found this in the dryer," she murmured. "Guess it didn't make it into the gift bag."

Romeo stared at it.

Then at her.

The space between them narrowed as he leaned slightly closer.

"You keeping it?" he asked.

"Maybe."

"You always keep souvenirs of things you're done with?"

Her breath hitched.

Romeo smirked.

She shoved his shoulder lightly. "Shut up."

"You missed me," he said, quieter now.

Juliet looked away. "Maybe."

"Say it."

"No."

"Juliet."

His voice was lower now. A dare. A whisper only the dying sun and cracked glass could hear.

She finally looked at him.

Her eyes met his, full of frustration and longing and the kind of affection that refused to die quietly.

"I missed you," she said.

Romeo's chest rose slowly, like the words physically hit him.

And then, softly, slowly, he reached out and tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

She didn't move away.

And for the first time in a long time, they didn't feel like ghosts to each other.

They just felt... real.

Present.

Alive.

The sun dipped past the trees, bathing the broken greenhouse in dusky gold.

They didn't kiss.

Not yet.

But they sat closer after that.

And neither one moved away when their hands brushed, again and again.

Like they were ticking off a list much older than paper.

One memory at a time.

End of Chapter 45