“He turned to me. “Call me later?”“Yes.”“Promise?”“I promise,” I said.And then he leaned down and kissed me. And this time it wasn’t Romeo kissing Juliet. It was Quinn kissing Delia. And that was even better.”

“I can't today," I said. "Maybe tomorrow?""Can't tomorrow," said Quinn. "I have a family thing. I guess we're logistically star-crossed, Juliet."Sometimes Quinn calls me Juliet because of how we had to do that scene together, and whenever he does it's good for another bout of brain paralysis. So all I could manage back was "Oh.""But I'll talk to you later, okay?" he said.I didn't even try to say anything else but just nodded, wondering as I did what would happen next. The steps had largely emptied by then.But before I could do much wondering, Quinn's lips were on mine.And this time it definitely counted.”

“I was Juliet and Quinn was Romeo, and the lines weren't dead black-and-white words on a page but somehow alive, as natural and real as the argument we'd had about the spider and the fly. The rows of empty seats were gone, and we were in a candlelit ballrooom, wrapped in our own cocoon of words. But the playful banter of our words couldn't mask what we both knew--that after this, nothing would be the same .And then we got to the kissing part, which we'd only read through together and had never really rehearsed. But it didn't matter, because I was still Juliet and Quinn was still Romeo, his gray-green eyes fixed on mine. And when he bent to kiss me, it was Romeo's lips on Juliet's. Even so, Juliet was just as stunned as I would've been. When I said the last line, I was speaking for both of us. You kiss by the book.”

“He turned to me. “Call me later?”“Yes.”“Promise?”“I promise,” I said.And then he leaned down and kissed me. And this time it wasn’t Romeo kissing Juliet. It was Quinn kissing Delia. And that was even better.”

“That was Hunter,' said Quinn as his father's footsteps faded away.'I figured. Since he said to call him Hunter and everything.”