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Cynthia didn’t share Owain’s level of enthusiasm for Shakespeare. Actually, she wasn’t sure if anyone shared Owain’s level of enthusiasm for the bard. When partners were assigned for an in-class Shakespeare performance, Cynthia was excited that she was paired with Owain; Owain was probably just excited that they were performing Shakespeare.
Shakespeare or not, being partners meant that Cynthia got to spend a lot more time alone with Owain. Cynthia loved her friends -- she was definitely the social butterfly of the group -- but having a friend group with thirteen other people meant that quality time with just one person wasn’t easy to come by.
Once upon a time, Cynthia would have given anything for that person to be Inigo. That was before they stopped playing Justice Cabal, before the flirting, and before Inigo developed a crush on Gerome that was obvious to, well, everyone but Gerome. Somewhere along the line, Cynthia’s thoughts had shifted from her childhood crush on Inigo to Owain, the boy who trusted her before anyone else with his stories. She couldn’t deny how special it made her feel knowing that Owain trusted her more than anyone else. Not to mention, Owain was the only one who took her seriously when she pitched epic superhero entrances and catchphrases.
Macbeth, however, was not one of Owain’s stories. In Phila’s class, they were set to perform a section of Act I, Scene VII of Macbeth. Cynthia had to talk Owain down from dressing up in full costume. She compromised on wearing clothes that were reminiscent of Shakespeare’s time. Owain wore a loose white shirt underneath a black vest; where Owain got these clothes, Cynthia wasn’t sure. The ginger elected to wear a peasant tunic with a long skirt.
Cynthia took a deep breath to steel herself before opening the door to the classroom and walking in.
“How now! What news?” exclaimed Cynthia. Owain was sitting at a pair of desks made to look like a table ready for a feast, complete with plastic food. “He has almost supped. Why have you left the chamber?” Cynthia was trying her best to sound irate, but she knew her delivery was weak. Owain looked up from the fake banana he was holding and cast a worried look in Cynthia’s direction.
“Hath he asked for me?” asked Owain, his tone hesitant and almost fearful. Cynthia sighed and rolled her eyes as she strode over to Owain.
“Know you not he has?” Cynthia retorted in reply. She put her hands on her hips and glared down at her “husband” sitting at the table. Owain dropped the banana with a flourish and stood up.
“We will proceed no further in this business. He hath honored me of late, and I have bought golden opinions from all sorts of people, which would be worn now in their newest gloss, not cast aside so soon.” Cynthia paused a moment, trying to remember her lines. She had set up her script on the podium, but she knew she’d get points taken away if she used the script for assistance. Why did Phila have to give them a scene that was so heavy on the female part’s dialogue? Why did performing have to be part of Public Speaking? Why did she even have to take Public Speaking?
She was really starting to hate the school board.
“Was the hope drunk wherein you dressed yourself? Hath it slept since?” Cynthia asked scathingly. “And wakes it now, to look so green and pale at what it did so freely? From this time such I account thy love. Art thou afeard to be the same in thine own act and valor as thou art in desire?” At this point, Cynthia drew forward and jabbed her finger into Owain’s chest. “Wouldst thou have that which thou esteem’st the ornament of life, and live a coward in thine own esteem, letting ‘I dare not’ wait upon ‘I would,’ like the poor cat i' th' adage?”
“Prithee, peace!” Owain raised his hands defensively and took a step away from Cynthia. “I dare do all that may become a man; who dares do more is none.”
“What beast was ’t, then, that made you break this enterprise to me? When you durst do it, then you were a man; And to be more than what you were, you would be so much more the man.” Cynthia attempted to take another step toward the retreating Owain, but her foot got caught onto the support for the podium. She yelped in surprise and braced herself for the unfortunately far-too-familiar feeling of crashing onto the ground -- but the feeling never came. She felt herself being held up by a pair of strong arms instead.
A blush gracing her cheeks, Cynthia stammered as she tried to remember where she had left off. The script was scattered at their feet after falling with the podium; she’d never be able to find the page she needed. All she could hear was the incessant ticking of the analog clock that hung over the doorway. Her mind went completely blank; all she could think about her the eyes of all her classmates on her.
“I am not man enough for this task,” Owain confessed. Cynthia stumbled to her feet in surprise; this wasn’t part of their scene. “I was not chosen by the gods. Nay, ‘twas not me, but an illustrious maiden destined to save our realm.” Cynthia’s eyes widened as the realization hit her that Owain was narrating one of his stories; he had been texting her about this one the previous night. She just couldn’t understand why he was creating their scene to monologue about his story.
“The fell dragon returned, born amidst fire and brimstone, casting the world into perpetual darkness! Only the princess of exalted blood could save humanity by returning to the origin of the monster’s resurrection! She braved the journey alone, no one there to support her.
“But her true, faithful companions followed her when the opportunity arose for them to join her in the past. Thirteen knights of the future past, returned to fight their fates! The power of the dragon threatened to overwhelm them; the heroes were on the verge of defeat!” Owain thrust a hand into the air dramatically and clenched his fingers into a fist. He drew his fist to his heart and closed his eyes.
The class was still silent; they were most likely stunned into silence at the odd performance going on in front of them. Cynthia didn’t even want to look in Phila’s direction to see their teacher’s reaction; they were so going to fail. The ginger girl turned to Owain to stop him when she felt a pair of lips pressed against her own. The kiss was over as quickly as it began, and Cynthia had to steady herself to avoid tripping again.
“The young hero missed the call to be the chosen one, but he could not allow himself to die without a kiss from the one woman who mattered the most to him, the beautiful and kind Pegasus Knight.” Owain stroked Cynthia’s cheek lightly before taking an over-dramatic bow. Cynthia smiled sheepishly, still dazed from the earlier kiss, and dipped into an unsteady curtsy.
When Cynthia gathered the courage to look at Phila, she saw a near smile on their teacher’s face, a far cry from the stern fury that Cynthia was expecting to see. The class clapped enthusiastically -- gods, Inigo was actually wolf-whistling at them -- and Cynthia tried to catch Owain’s eye as they returned to their desks. Owain was staring steadfastly ahead, almost like he was trying to avoid her.
With a sigh, Cynthia picked up the paper on her desk from Phila. Her eyes widened comically as she saw her grade circled in red ink; she’d gotten a B. True, it was a low B, but it was definitely not the F she had been expected. Cynthia turned to Owain with a smile, but his eyes were firmly set on his desk. Dejected, Cynthia placed the paper in her folder and turned to the front of the room to watch Lucina and Severa perform as Olivia and Viola from The Twelfth Night.
Cynthia was getting annoyed. Owain had burst out of the classroom after Public Speaking, and he’d avoided her in all of their shared classes. Finally, when she went to her parents’ bakery after school, everyone was there except Owain. Her multiple texts had gone ignored, which led her to enlist the help of Brady.
“Please, Brady, I need to know where he is!” Cynthia clutched onto Brady’s arm; she could feel Noire glaring daggers into her back at how close she was to Brady, but she knew that Brady would be the only person Owain would tell where he was hiding.
“A’ight, a’ight, just get off’a me…” Brady grumbled. He pulled out his phone and typed out a quick text to his best friend. Cynthia smiled gleefully and sat down across from Brady. As soon as his phone buzzed with a reply, Cynthia snatched the device to read his text. Owain was with Inigo at his house. That would explain why Lissa told her that Owain wasn’t home when she called. She wouldn’t have suspected Inigo’s house to be Owain’s hiding place; Inigo would disappear at least once a week with the claim that he had a date, but even Cynthia could tell that he was actually going to practice his dancing.
With a hasty goodbye, Cynthia ran out the door and grabbed her bike. Thankfully, Inigo’s house wasn’t too far away from the bakery. As long as Brady kept his promise not to tell Owain anything, she could get to Inigo’s house while Owain was still hiding out there.
Leaving her bike on the side of the house, Cynthia rang the doorbell while butterflies fluttered around her stomach. The door opened to reveal a smiling Olivia, who immediately welcomed Cynthia in.
“Oh Cynthia, it’s so good to see you,” said Olivia kindly. “It’s always a pleasure to see you. Inigo and Owain are upstairs in Inigo’s room, if you’re looking for them.” Cynthia nodded politely and waited for Olivia’s permission to go upstairs. Without knocking, Cynthia burst into Inigo’s room to find Owain moping on Inigo’s bed -- a rare role reversal, since Inigo was usually the one moping about his latest rejection from his affection of the week.
Inigo looked between Owain and Cynthia a few times before giving the excuse that he was going to check on his mother; he bolted down the stairs, leaving Cynthia and Owain alone together. Owain opened his mouth to speak, but Cynthia cut him off.
“You don’t get to kiss me and then ignore me without even explaining what happened,” hissed Cynthia, but her anger quickly faded back into hurt. “Why are you avoiding me? What did I do wrong?” Owain quickly jumped to his feet and shook his head.
“No, gods, no, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Owain replied. “I thought…” The boy ran a hand through his hair nervously before sitting down and motioning for Cynthia to sit next to him. “I thought you’d be angry at me, kissing you like that in front of the whole class, and I didn’t want to lose my best friend because I embarrassed you.”
“Owain…” Cynthia said softly. “I’d never be mad at you for that. I was mad because you were avoiding me, like kissing me was some stupid mistake.” Even saying the words out loud hurt. She didn’t want to think of the possibility that Owain would never think about her in that way. She wasn’t sure how they’d be able to go back to normal after this; she didn’t want to let go of the feeling she got when Owain kissed her.
“Kissing you could never be a mistake, Cyn.” Owain’s ears burned red. “This is probably going to sound weird and cheesy, but bear with me. Remember how we used to fight when we played Justice Cabal about what the hero should be like?” Cynthia remembered that very well; Cynthia always loved playing the hero who charged headfirst into battle and was an inspiration to everyone around her, and Owain always wanted to be the hero who came in at the darkest hour and sought vengeance for his fallen brethren. Cynthia rarely let him play that role, mostly because she didn’t like that everyone else had to be dead or dying for him to play his role.
“It was kind of like that when you tripped and I caught you. You had this look in your eyes like you were asking me for help, and your papers were scattered everywhere. I figured if Phila was going to mark you down because you forgot your lines, I could be the hero who took the focus off of you.”
“And the kiss?” Cynthia prodded.
“The kiss…” Owain trailed off sheepishly. “The kiss was because in all the stories, the hero gets to kiss the girl of his dreams…because you’ve always been the girl of my dreams. Gods, Cynthia, I’ve liked you forever.” Cynthia’s heart began to pound in her chest, and a beaming smile spread across her face. She couldn’t resist the urge welling up inside her; she kissed him. Her hands cupped Owain’s cheeks to keep him from moving away. With a soft giggle against his lips, Cynthia pulled away with a smile still on her face.
“I like you too,” whispered Cynthia before kissing Owain again. This time, Owain’s arms pulled Cynthia close by the waist. He guided her to lie down against the bed, and Cynthia’s hands tangled themselves in Owain’s unruly hair. Owain’s lips were soft against hers. He pulled her lower lip between his teeth and sucked gently, earning a low moan out of the girl. Cynthia’s hands traveled down from Owain’s hair to his chest to tug at the laces of the ridiculous vest he was wearing. Once the vest was finally unlaced, Cynthia’s hands roamed across the planes of Owain’s chest; she’d never realized how defined his abs were, but she was definitely appreciating it now.
Cynthia’s thoughts on Owain’s abs were interrupted by Owain’s lips traveling down her neck. Her fingers clutched the loose material of Owain’s shirt as his lips began to suck on her collarbone. Her body felt like it was burning as Owain’s hand dipped under her shirt and skimmed along the delicate skin of her stomach. She hooked her leg around Owain’s hips to press his body closer to hers.
“Oh GODS,” a horrified voice exclaimed. Cynthia immediately blushed bright red in embarrassment when she saw Inigo standing in the doorway to his room. That was right; they were still in Inigo’s room. Owain sat up and smiled sheepishly before offering a hand to Cynthia.
“Great,” Inigo moaned, “my bed has seen more action from my cousin than from me. Where’s the justice in this world?” Cynthia giggled and grasped Owain’s hand to tug him along. Still giggling, Cynthia apologized before leading Owain downstairs. They called out their goodbyes to Olivia before exiting the house and kissing again as soon as the door closed.
“My parents are both at the bakery,” Cynthia whispered against Owain’s lips. She winked playfully before grabbing her bike and daring Owain to race her to her house. Cynthia had already pushed off and was pedaling toward her house before Owain got to his bike. She shouted for him to catch her and laughed as she raced away.
The wind flowing through her hair, Cynthia smiled. If this was the outcome of being forced to take Public Speaking, maybe the class wasn’t so bad after all.