Page 25 of Juliet's Echo

Then — "Those aren't mutually exclusive," she said, voice fully engaged. "Internal fragility and external pressure compound each other. I'm not excusing the system — I'm saying Othello was already too easily persuaded that he wasn't enough. His status felt threatened the moment it was questioned. Thought he was big shit because he was a Black man with power and a whitewoman in his bed. The moment that image hurt his feelings, he fumbled."

She finished with a roll of those beautiful eyes.

I didn't know what was sexier — her intelligence or the fact that she signed and verbalized her entire argument simultaneously.

Snap out of it, nigga. Before you lose this argument.

"Iago weaponized Othello's trust," I shot back — with a little more aggression than necessary.

"He was emotionally out of control and forgot who the fuck he was." She gave the aggression right back, and this time she slapped the desk when she finished her rebuttal. "He became the prey and lost the game — with his fragile-minded ass."

That made my dick twitch. One, because she was right. Two, because her mean ass refused to back down.

"Language, Ms. Everette," Hamburger said, as the class erupted around us.

"Sorry," she signed.

"Both of you are right," Hamburger said slowly, letting it settle. "Both answers are strongly supported by personal interpretation and Shakespeare's text. Hold onto them — and use them to answer your next reflection question." He paused. "Just without the profanity," he added, addressing the class with a smirk.

I glanced at her sideways as the lecture wound down. She was already writing in her notebook, body relaxed, energy completely settled — as if she hadn't just been ready to claw me to pieces two minutes ago.

Little passionate ass.

Shortly after, Hamburger released us with a writing assignment. "Everette, Mitchel," he pointed at us both with his stylus. "Great job today."

Without hesitation, I gathered my things, Juliet moving in my peripheral vision the entire time. We ended up side by side — honestly, by my own doing.

Looking at her up close, I noticed the natural flush of red in her chubby cheeks. Her eyelashes were naturally long and full. Then coconut and amber hit my nose — and was that raspberry underneath it all? A perfect mixture of sweet and velvet.

I lifted the bag with her slice of cake and she took it without a word.

"You know the actual Juliet was decisive, committed and in the end — wrong. Your mother named you right," I said. There was no way she was walking away with cake and a win.

"Juliet also had the most desired man drink poison to join her in death," she said pleasantly. "So whatever little joke you were trying to make — even when I'm wrong, I still get my point across." She smiled and walked ahead of me.

"You know she kills herself too, right?" I called to her back.

"Point still made," she said without turning around — lifting the Flip'd bag with one hand and her middle finger with the other.

I couldn't stand her ass.

Juliet

The annual vendor and food truck festival was one of Havenbrook's most beloved events. Every business thrived on this day — whether you were selling tacos or urban romance novels, it was a guaranteed sellout. Music filled every corner, and the smell of sugar and fried food would replace even the most expensive cologne in the fibers of your clothing. There wasn't a blank wall in sight that hadn't been turned into a grass backdrop for someone's next viral moment — and as always, the weather was warm, sunny and completely cloudless.

I wasn't mad at any of it. And neither was my fitted heather grey maxi dress. Breast stacked like two ripe melons and that ass — what little I had of it — was holding its own. The combination of the environment, the outfit and a full day of freedom from class and the sisters of ARS had your girl on cloud nine.

Yahya, Mega and I hopped out of the Jeep, feet hitting the ground in sync.

"Girl, can those bamboo earrings get any bigger?" Yahya teased, gently flicking one.

"The bigger the hoop, the badder the bitch," I signed.

We laughed as I positioned myself between my two best friends, one arm looped through each of theirs, and headed toward the festivities.

"This is cute or whatever, but I definitely could have coordinated this better," Yahya said through a stink face. "Here, Ju — decipher this for me."

She handed me a festival map and I read off some tables worth checking out. "It's a food truck festival," I said. "What exactly were you expecting — gold dipped chicken wings?"