“Of course I’m not in love! It’s a bizarre chemical reaction that’ll pass. I’m not going to ask her to marry me just so I can fuck her.”
My mind goes to very porny places.
“Taylor!” He clicks his fingers in front of my face. “Focus.”
“So … uh … you think a strong reaction to someone of the opposite sex is always purely physical?”
“Yes. If Romeo and Juliet had happened in real life, minus the ridiculous deaths, Juliet probably would have destroyed Romeo in the end by fucking Mercutio.”
He’s dead serious. It’s funny and tragic at the same time.
“Think about it, Taylor,” he says as he leans forward. “If Romeo thought he loved Rosaline and she broke his heart, why wouldn’t he be terrified of Juliet, considering his connection to her is a hundred times stronger?”
I raise my eyebrows. “Maybe he’s brave enough to think it’s worth the risk.”
“Yeah, and maybe he’s just horny and stupid.”
“The romantic argument would be that if they’d denied their … love … connection … whatever you want to call it, they’d be hollow. Isn’t that the point of living? To find the one person in all the world who’s your perfect match?”
“Actually, Taylor, the point of living is not dying. Romeo and Juliet failed at that part.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “What you’re telling me is that if you were Romeo, you’d have walked away from Juliet.”
“Yes,” he says, unblinking.
“Hmmmm.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. It’s a contemplative sound.”
“Contemplating what?”
“How much you’re deluding yourself.” I narrow my eyes while tapping my chin with my finger. “Hmmm.”
He exhales and glares. “Don’t fucking ‘hmmmm’ me, Taylor, okay? I don’t need your condescending little sounds.”
“Hmmmm.”
“Goddammit.” He looks at his wrist and says, “Wow, look at the time. We have to go. The show’s starting soon.”
Right. Benzo Ra.
He walks off, and I follow, saying, “Uh … Holt? You know you’re not actually wearing a watch, right?”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Just checking.”
When Holt and I emerge from the theater an hour later, we’re barely out the door before we’re snorting out all the repressed scorn that built up during the performance.
“Oh … man,” Holt says as he starts to calm down “That was the funniest thing I’ve seen since Keanu Reeves did Much Ado About Nothing.”
I wipe the laugh tears from my eyes as we walk to our next class.
“Seriously. “I sigh. “That’s a professional theater company. That could be our future.”
He laughs and groans at the same time. “It would be the ultimate torture. Those guys couldn’t actually classify themselves as actors, could they? Surely their résumé says ‘Professional Pretentious Prick.’”
We continue chuckling as we make our way into acting class. Erika is already there, sitting on her desk.
As the class settles around her, she says, “So, that was one of the most highly respected avant-garde theater troupes in the world, ladies and gentlemen. What did you think?”
The class babbles excitedly. Phrases like, “Oh my GOD, it was AMAZING!” and “SO unique! Really powerful!” and “The most stunning piece of theater I’ve ever seen!” fly around the room, overlapping.
My mouth drops open.
They loved it. They all loved it.
They saw the same collection of embarrassingly obtuse scenes as I did, and they all came to a completely different conclusion.
God, I’m such an uncultured idiot.
“Their use of stylized movement was so precise,” Zoe says excitedly. “It was incredible!”
Next to me, Holt scoffs, and Erika turns to him.
“Mr. Holt? Did you have something to say?”
“Nothing good,” he says and raises his chin defiantly. “I thought it was a pile of shit.”
Erika tilts her head. “Really? And why did you think that?”
“Because,” he says, exasperated. “There’s supposed to be a difference between random noise and movement, and theater. Even experimental theater is supposed to represent ideas and emotions. It’s not supposed to be a bunch of idiots walking around the stage like they have sticks up their asses.”
“You don’t think the performance achieved communication on an emotional level?”
He laughs. “Not unless they were trying to communicate that they were all enormous jerk-offs.”
Zoe rolls her eyes, and there are murmurs of disagreement from other members of the class.
Holt looks at them with disdain. “I can’t believe you guys didn’t think it was crap. Did you all see a completely different show? Or were you blinded by their ‘reputation’ because you’re a bunch of fucking sheep?”
I hear several murmurs of “Fuck you, Holt,” until Erika shushes everyone as she turns to me.
My stomach convulses.
No, no, no, no, please don’t ask me.
“Miss Taylor? I haven’t heard your opinion yet. What did you think?”
Oh, God.
Holt is looking at me.