Free The Artist and Me by Hannah; Kay

stepped over to my bookshelf and pulled a worn copy of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet from the shelf. I’d loved the play when we read it in freshman English so I’d ordered this paperback on Amazon so I could keep it and read it at my own leisure. The pages were brittle because of the frequency. The words were underlined, highlighted, starred—favorite passages, hidden meanings, character notes for the various CAs—character analyses—I’d done over the years, out of boredom.
    I flipped the copy open to the dog-eared page, and started reading. I always read Shakespeare aloud as it was originally intended. I’d put on my one man show, adopt and commit to all the roles. I liked to think of Shakespeare as a lifestyle.
    The next time I looked at the clock, it was six-twenty-two. I grinned down at the book. It was the best way to pass time by far. Looking at its cover, I decided to bring it along. Stick it in the space between Hendleson’s seats for luck. It couldn’t hurt.
    The house was relatively quiet, apart from Mom bustling around in the kitchen. “Mom, I’m on my way out,” I called to her, slipping my head into the kitchen.
    She smiled, kissing my cheek. “Have fun, honey.”
    I smiled back at her, nodding. “I will. See you later.”
    Outside was a muggy Georgia evening, but I knew that when night fell so too would the temperature. Hendleson was hot, so I turned on the air full blast. I shoved the book between the seats then was driving down Elm. It’d only be a minute before I pulled up to her curb. The radio was buzzing with some cross of country twang and artificial pop backbeat—a volatile combination that just shouldn’t be done, if you ask me, so I turned it off. I guess the ride would be dependent on the conversation.
    I pulled up in front of her house, carefully parking at the curb before hopping from the cab and straightening my clothes. My heart beat loudly in my chest again, but I silenced it instead, walking up the front walk with a dash of cunning confidence. It was an act, of course, but no one needed to know that.
    I took a deep breath.
    Then I rang the doorbell.
    I lolled back on my heels. There was only one car in the driveway so I was fairly certain her dad wasn’t there. That was comforting. He didn’t talk much but when he did, his words had meaning. So an interaction here at the door would speak volumes.
    The door opened and I sucked in a sharp breath. She was wearing a white dress. Her mother’s coat was nowhere to be seen and that sundress left her long legs exposed. Her hair was in a side braid, her green eyes peering at me with a playful urgency. “Remember to breathe, Lucas.”
    I exhaled at her words. She was gorgeous.
    I chuckled. “You look beautiful.”
    “Thanks,” she answered, locking the door and turning back to me expectantly. I smiled, sweeping my arm out dramatically to her. She bit back a laugh, eyeing my arm for a moment before taking it.
    I laughed, leading her to Hendleson with a grin. “Julie, meet Hendleson,” I told her once we’d both boarded and were buckling our seatbelts. I extended my arm, patting the dashboard. “Hendleson, Julie.”
    She eyed me, lifting an eyebrow. “Your truck?” she inquired and I laughed.
    “Yes,” I told her, pulling slowly from the curb and back onto Elm, heading out of town. “He’s been in the family since my granddad was a teenager,” I offered, glancing over to gauge her expression. She was laughing quietly, staring out of the window.
    We lapsed into a measured silence and her eyes drifted toward me every once in a while. I wondered if she was curious about where we were going. She didn’t ask even as we pulled off on a dirt road, heading straight into what looked like nothing. Maybe she trusted me. I laughed. That was an interesting thought.
    Her fingers moved to the dial of the radio hesitantly then looked at me. “May I?”
    I chuckled. “You can try. I can never find a signal in town, much less out