Masquerade || Niall Horan

8 ♥ Romeo's Juliet

“No,” he said as soon as I walked through the door. He started shaking his head, and our eyes locked on one another. “No, no, no, absolutely not. Turn around and walk back the way you came,” Jackson instructed, in total disbelief by my presence. He walked away from the circle of friends he was previously speaking with. I laughed and continued down the aisle of the auditorium between two of the three sections of seats. He had caught everyone else’s attention now, and all eyes of the waiting and hopeful play participants were either on me or Jackson.

“What happened? I thought you already auditioned,” I teased him, now standing closer to face him.

“There were some complications.”

“Really? How interesting.”

“Jackson,” called one of the women holding a clipboard. She looked to be familiar with him just by the smile she offered, and he nodded signaling he’d be there in a moment.

“It doesn’t matter anyway. You’ll never get the part. Romeo and Juliet is no easy play, and you’re unexperienced.”

“Ouch. What a blow to my theatrical self-esteem,” I sarcastically remarked.

The truth was, he was right. I had never really acted in my life, and I barely had time to run over the lines I’d be performing for my audition. I was going out for Juliet. Go big or go home, right?

“Lucky for you, there’s a new director this year so past years leading roles won’t make much of a difference. Still doesn’t give you much of a shot. Don’t take this personally, but I hope you bomb your audition.”

“Oh thanks, pal. Truth is, I’m here because Pearson forced Ida and I into extra activities. We were busted last night trying to sneak out, and this is my punishment.”

“He made you do theatre?”

“No, I had a choice. But I’d much rather be in drama club watching you humor me than sitting around playing chess with a bunch of people I don’t know. Or have any interest in knowing. To be honest, the drama kids seem pretty cool.”

“You’re calling me cool.”

“No. I’m calling the drama kids cool. You don’t hang out with the drama kids outside of drama club. You hang out with me and our loser friends, so you’re a loser.”

“You’re a loser too.”

“Thanks.”

“I have to go audition,” he ended our argument.

“Good. Break a leg. Literally.”

He made a face at me, and I smirked while he walked up the steps onto the stage.

“Alright, so you’re trying out for Romeo, correct?” the director confirmed. Jackson replied with a solid “yes ma’am” although I knew he was well acquainted with this new director already.

My breathing almost hitched, but then I figured “this could be fun.” Say I did get the part of Juliet with him as my costarring lead. I could get a front row seat to observe Jackson’s supposedly amazing skill for myself.

“Great,” she said, smiling. “Whenever you’re ready.”

He smiled back and nodded, clearing his throat and adjusting his footing. As if that would somehow help his audition. The paper he held crinkled as he moved it to read.

“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the East, and Juliet is the sun! Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief that thou her maid art far more fair than she. Be not her maid, since she is envious. Her vestal livery is but sick and green, and none but fools do wear it. Cast it off. It is my lady; O, it is my love! O that she knew she were! She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that? Her eye discourses; I will answer it. I am too bold; 'tis not to me she speaks. Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, having some business, do entreat her eyes to twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars as daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven would through the airy region stream so bright that birds would sing and think it were not night. See how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek!”