Part the second of my first foray into the world of romantic fiction, Give Me Your Hands
"Hey, Ben." Denise sat down next to him. It was the third time they'd met and she was already greeting him like an old friend.
"Good morning, Denise." Ben closed his book and began smiling. He was sat on the same rock as he was yesterday, but was now sharing it with someone beside Shakespeare.
"How are you, today, Ben?"
"Pretty good. You?"
"I'm good. Say, is there anyone else that bothers you, 'cause saving your ass yesterday was fun?"
"Hmm, not to say it wasn't nice, but I'd rather you didn't beat everyone I dislike to a pulp. Not many people would be left, if I'm honest."
As if on cue, Dave and his friends were approaching down the path. Mike walked in front now, Dave trailing with Shaun. As they grew closer, Denise's eyes didn't move from Dave. When he passed, Denise started forward and her eyes widened somehow more "Grr!". Dave flinched and almost stumbled. Ben enjoyed a laugh and Denise joined him.
"It's great when things just fall into place like that, isn't it? Nice little coincidences." Ben gazed around, beaming.
"Yeah, almost like they're pre-ordained. Sometimes it's kinda spooky, though."
"You two young lovebirds!" The man had appeared in front of them and startled them both. The shock soon faded as they took in his sentence and urged themselves to respond.
"We aren't together."
"We're just friends"
"Understandable mistake but-"
"-not my boyfriend."
"Alright, sorry, my mistake, but you wouldn't be interested in helping me out, would you? We're staging a production of A Midsummer Night's Dream, and we're looking for teenagers to play the main characters. You two look just about right for Hermia and Lysander. Whadya say?"
"Gives you a chance to see it performed first-hand, I guess, Ben."
"I don't know, I'm not really the acting type."
"C'mon, live a little! We'll do it."
"Excellent. Here's all the information you need, our first meeting, when you'll get your scripts," He handed them each a flyer, "You won't regret this decision, after all, it's just a bit of fun." The man shook their hands and walked off. Ben looked at Denise dumbfounded. She just smiled back.
"Spooky, right?" Ben continued to stare, his mouth open in a lopsided fashion. He blinked a few times. He tried to form words, but his mouth just fell open again. He blinked and closed his mouth. He prepared himself and spoke.
"What the Hell just happened?"
"I signed us up to play Hermia and Lysander in an amateur production of A Midsummer Night's Dream."
"I thought that was what happened, but I didn't quite believe it. This is more than coincidental.."
"Ben, you strike me as a smart guy, don't tell me you believe in Fate."
"Do you?"
"Yeah. I just didn't think you'd be naive enough."
Ben continued to stare at her for a few moments, "I can't decide whether you're a blessing or a curse."
She hopped to her feet, "Can't I be both? C'mon."
Ben got up, "Where are we going?"
"Where do you think? We're going to rehearse."
"Where specifically?"
"My house." She turned and began slowly walking down the path. Ben picked up his book and ran his hand through his chestnut-hued hair. He glanced between Denise's figure- she looked pretty good from behind, he hadn't noticed before..- and the portrait of William Shakespeare that adorned the cover of his book.
"You had to go and be a brilliant writer whose work has lasted centuries, didn't you?"
Denise glanced back, "You say something?"
"Naw." He sprung to her side and walked with her down the dirt path.
It was a short walk to Jones Street. They stopped at number ten and Denise casually opened the door. Number ten. A nice, round number. It matched her nice, round-
Ben let out a giggle that was far girlier than he would later admit to anyone when telling this story. "What are you thinking about?" Ben realised the Denise had been holding the door open for him whilst he was thinking about her.. parts.
"Nothing." Ben hurried inside and Denise followed him, shutting the door behind her.
"Well, welcome to my humble abode."
"Ahem! I think you'll find that it's my humble abode." It was now that Ben found out that Denise inherited a lot of her looks from her mother. She had swept into the room, straw-like hair almost styled in a ponytail, and seemingly followed by a trail of note-paper. They shared the same nose and behind her mother's glasses, their eyes were similar. Their clothing choices, however, were rather different. While Denise was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, her mother was wearing a long flowing skirt and a blouse.
"Mom, this is the boy I told you about."
"You told your mother about me."
"It's not every day you save someone from a pack of wild chavs."
"Oh, you told her that part."
"That is what you call them, right, chavs?"
"Well, it's good to meet you, Ben," She stepped forward and offered her hand, "Elaine Sullivan."
He shook her hand, "The pleasure's mine. If it's not rude, could I ask why you're at home in the middle of the day?"
"Oh, I'm an author, I get to sit around the house all day."
"An author, really? I've always aspired to be an author."
"Word of advice: Get one book out quickly, get a grant and spend the rest of your life doing nothing. That is until they pressure you for another book. Then tell them you're working on the last chapter and get writing!"
Ben looked at her. As she was Denise's mother, he couldn't know whether or not she was joking. He lightly said, "I'll keep that in mind." so he didn't have to acknowledge one way or the other.
"Well, what've you brought him here for?"
"I signed us up for the lead roles in a play, we're gonna rehearse in my bedroom."
"Oh. Alright." Ben was now sure that one of them was insane, if not both. This couldn't be commonplace in America, he was sure of it. Despite his befuddlement, Denise led him up the staircase. As they turned left into her bedroom, Denise's mother popped her head around the corner to the staircase and called up,
"And if I hear bed-springs, there'll be trouble." Ben enjoyed one of those moments where it's clear that your friend is incredibly embarrassed by their parent, but you get to laugh.
Once Denise's face was a less red colour, she sat down on her bed and said, "Shall we get to it, then?". Once Ben had gotten over the obvious innuendo in that, he opened The Complete Works of Shakespeare to A Midsummer Night's Dream.
"Right.. Where shall we start?"
"Well, seeing as we total two people, I'd guess in the first scene with just Hermia and Lysander." She gave Ben the look that most people gave him whenever he asked a question with a retrospectively obvious answer. It said, 'Aren't you supposed to be smart?'
Ben cleared his throat and threw himself into the performance, "How now, my love! Why is your cheek so pale? How chance the roses there fade so fast?" He sat next to Denise so she could see the book.
"Uh, belike for want of rain, which I could well beteem them from the tempest of my eyes."
"Ay me! for aught that I could ever read, could ever hear by tale or history, the course of true love never did run smooth; but, either it was different in blood,-"
"O cross! Too high to be entralled to low."
"Or else misgraffed in respect of years,-"
"O spite! Too old to be engaged to young."
"Or else it stood upon the choice of friends,-" Denise noted that Ben spoke this line with his eyes closed.
"You really get into this Shakespeare stuff, don't you?"
"Yes, I suppose I do." They looked at each other to say, 'Shall we carry on, then?'
"O Hell! To choose love by another's eyes."
"Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, war, death, or sickness did lay siege to it, making it momentany as a sound, swift as a shadow, short as any dream; brief as the lightning in the collied night, that, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth, and ere a man hath power to say 'Behold!' the jaws of darkness do devour it up: so quick bright things come to confusion."
"If then true lovers have been ever cross'd, it stands as an edict in destiny: then let us teach our trial patience, because it is a customary cross, as due to love as thoughts and dreams and sighs, wishes and tears, poor fancy's followers."
"A good persuasion: therefore, hear me, Hermia. I have a widow aunt, a dowager, of great revenue,-"
"How long does it take to say, 'Meet me in the forest'?"
"Shakespeare just has a way of saying things with poetry, rather than the straight-to-the-point way we speak in everyday lives. He has the time to say things how they should be said, expressing every mood in each word."
"Smartypants.." Denise looked at Ben with feigned scorn. They continued rehearsal to the first appearance of Helena, and then flipped to their next solo appearance. They continued until the afternoon, when Ben's eyes happened upon his watch.
"I'd better be getting home, my parents will be worrying. Well, I know my mam will be.."
"Alright, I guess I'll see you tomorrow at the proper rehearsals."
Ben unfolded the flyer from his pocket, "Tomorrow? How could that man had known he'd get his actors in time?" He stared at it with confusion.
Denise shrugged, "Lucky guess?"
Ben looked from the paper to Denise, "Bye." He folded the flyer away and made his way to the door. He put his hand on the doorknob when he heard Elaine.
"Hey," He turned his head to look over his shoulder, "Don't you go breaking her heart, now." Once again, Ben couldn't decide whether or not she was joking.
