Why I Hate Romeo and Juliet

Why I Hate Romeo and Juliet - Chapter Twenty-Three

Hey guys!

So...it turns out that my vacation was delayed. But at least I got to upload this! I really enjoyed writing it. It's a fun chapter where everyone has a good time. Mostly. :)

But you just wait - there's some dramatic stuff on the way! ;)

Hope you like it! Vote & Comment, please!

-jennaxxx

ps. Let me know who you think should play the characters? Comment or private message me:)

Chapter Twenty-Three

It seemed like Dad was around more and more those days. Regardless of how many times I’d told him that there was absolutely nothing going on between me and Erick, or anyone for that matter, he was still suspicious for the past few weeks.

In the mornings, I’d run out to Erick’s car. It’d become a habit that he would zoom off before I even shut the car door. And after school, I would have to stay behind a couple of hours. Seeing as Erick had made the team, I was stuck ride-less if I didn’t wait for him. It wasn’t that bad actually; he would lend me a book or two at the beginning of the week, and I would read them after gawking at the players for a while. Between the gawking and the reading, I actually managed finished some really great books.

I think he actually enjoyed being on my Dad’s bad side, which didn’t make anything easier for me. Dad pretty much hated Erick now, and was even more apprehensive because I was coming home late. He didn’t believe that Erick was on the team – something about how ‘no-good do-nothings didn’t make athletes.’ I don’t even know how he came to that conjecture, because he had spoken all of twenty words to Erick.

The worst part of it was that I didn’t know whether to be offended because Dad didn’t trust me, or because he thought I’d become a slut.

 “This is your fault, you know,” I huffed, shutting the car door as he stopped briefly at the red light.

“Yeah,” he said, with a small, smug smile on his face. “It’s entertaining, to say the least.”

“Why are you doing this, Erick?” I blurted, thinking back on that night. The question had been eating at me ever since Dad brought it up.

“Doing what?” he glanced sideways at me.

“Why do you drive me around all the time?” I asked. I was a bit frustrated; here I was, freeloading off of this guy. “I don’t pay for gas or anything. Aren’t I a bit out of your way? I mean, I don’t see how this benefits you at all.”

Sometimes, I wish I could just shut my mouth.

He raised his eyebrows at me. “Do you want me to stop driving you places?”

“No!” I yelped. “It’s not that,” I smiled sheepishly at him. “I just don’t see why…”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Thanks,” I grumbled dryly. “That was plenty of confirmation.”

“So you’re looking for confirmation?”

“What? No – I mean. Yes? NO!” I babbled.

“You’re not that big of a bother,” he cracked a grin.

“Wonderful. Just, fantastic. Thanks. I mean really, thank you for that.”

“I’m joking,” he stifled a laugh. “You’re not that far out of the way, and I like driving,” he said. “And you don’t talk a lot. And like I said earlier, you’re entertaining.”