From Mockery to Mate

Practice Makes Dangerous

The room was too quiet.

The stage lights hummed faintly above us, the only sound breaking the silence, while my heart pounded like a drum in my chest. Jaxon’s hand cupped my jaw as if it belonged there, his thumb brushing lightly against my cheekbone.

“Breathe, Aria,” he murmured, his voice low and husky.

I forced in a shaky breath, though it came out more like a gasp. His proximity was overwhelming his warmth, his scent, the intensity in those storm-gray eyes that seemed to strip me bare.

“What are you doing?” I whispered.

“Teaching,” he replied simply, lips curving into that maddening smirk. “Lesson two: passion. It’s not about the words, it’s about the feeling you leave behind. Nobody will believe your Juliet if you don’t know how to… sell it.”

My mouth went dry. “You mean…”

“Kissing,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

The word hung between us, dangerous and tempting.

“I No,” I stammered, heat flooding my face. “That’s That’s not”

“Not what?” he challenged, his gaze never wavering. “Not necessary? Not part of the role? Please, Dawson. You want to make them choke, don’t you? You want Tyler to squirm every time he sees you? Then you need to stop being scared of your own shadow.”

“I’m not scared,” I argued, though my trembling hands betrayed me.

He arched a brow. “Prove it.”

My breath hitched. “Prove it?”

His smirk widened, slow and deliberate. “Kiss me.”

The words slammed into me like a shockwave. My heart raced so fast I thought I’d faint. Me? Kiss Jaxon Reid? The boy who had half the school terrified of him? The boy whose smirk made girls blush and boys back off?

I shook my head quickly. “This is insane.”

“No,” he said softly, leaning closer, “this is opportunity.”

His lips hovered just a whisper away, and I froze, torn between terror and something else I didn’t want to name. My mind screamed to push him back, but my body betrayed me, leaning ever so slightly into the heat radiating from him.

“Scared?” he whispered.

“Yes,” I admitted before I could stop myself.

His smirk softened into something else something sharper, deeper. “Good. Fear means you’re alive. Now let it make you stronger.”

I couldn’t move. My pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out everything but him. He tilted his head, closing the gap just enough that his lips brushed mine light, fleeting, a ghost of a touch.

It wasn’t a kiss. It was a spark.

I gasped, stumbling back as if burned. My hand shot to my lips, my chest heaving. “What was that?”

His grin was pure sin. “Lesson two.”

I glared at him, trying to hide the fact that my legs felt like jelly. “That wasn’t a kiss.”

“No,” he agreed easily. “That was the start. The real thing will come when you’re ready.”

I hated him for being so calm when I felt like my entire world had just been flipped upside down. “I’m never going to be ready for that.”

“We’ll see,” he said, his voice low and certain.

⸻

The next morning, I woke with a pit in my stomach. Sleep had been impossible every time I closed my eyes, I replayed the moment his lips had almost touched mine. The way his thumb had brushed my cheek. The way he had looked at me, like I wasn’t a joke.

It rattled me.

But it also left me with something unfamiliar: a spark of confidence.

Walking into school, I kept my head higher than usual. My shoulders didn’t hunch, my eyes didn’t dart to the floor. I could still hear the whispers, the laughter, but for once, I didn’t shrink.

“Jul-Eat,” someone muttered as I passed.

Normally, the nickname would’ve cut me like glass. This time, I forced my lips into a smirk. “Wow, real original. Did Sienna feed you that line, or did you come up with it all by yourself?”

The boy’s face flushed as his friends laughed not at me, but at him.

For the first time, the power shifted.

I didn’t look back.

⸻

At lunch, I sat alone as usual, but I didn’t hunch over my food. I pulled out my script and practiced lines under my breath. When I lifted my head, my eyes caught Tyler’s across the cafeteria.

He was laughing with Sienna, but his smile faltered when he saw me watching him. My chin lifted instinctively, and I held his gaze until he looked away.

It was small, but it was a victory.

“Not bad,” a voice drawled behind me.

I stiffened. Jaxon slid into the seat across from me without asking, his tray empty except for a bottle of water. He leaned back, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“Stop doing that,” I muttered.

“Doing what?”

“Appearing out of nowhere.”

He smirked. “Maybe you should stop being so easy to find.”

I rolled my eyes, but my lips twitched despite myself. “What do you want?”

“Checking in,” he said casually, twisting the cap off his water bottle. “Making sure you didn’t chicken out.”

“I didn’t,” I said firmly.

“Good,” he replied, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Because tonight, lesson three.”

My stomach dropped. “Lesson three?”

“Yeah.” His grin widened. “Projection. Making your voice carry. People laugh at you because you let them drown you out. We’re going to fix that.”

“And how exactly do you plan to do that?”

“You’ll see,” he said, taking a long sip of water. “But fair warning this one might actually kill you.”

I groaned, burying my face in my script. “Why am I letting you do this to me?”

“Because,” he said smoothly, leaning closer across the table, “you want revenge. And because deep down, you like proving me wrong.”

I looked up at him, ready to deny it, but the smirk tugging at his lips made my words catch in my throat.

Because maybe just maybe he wasn’t entirely wrong.

⸻

That night, I found myself back in the drama room, the stage lights casting long shadows across the floor. Jaxon was already there, pacing like a general preparing for battle.

“You’re late,” he said, though the corner of his mouth curved upward.

“I had homework,” I muttered.

“Excuses,” he shot back. “On stage. Now.”

I climbed the steps reluctantly, script in hand. He followed, stopping at the edge of the stage with his arms crossed.

“Lesson three: projection. Read the line. Make me feel it.”

I cleared my throat, then spoke softly: “Romeo, wherefore art thou”

“Pathetic,” he interrupted.

I glared. “Excuse me?”

“No one in the back row heard that,” he said flatly. “Try again. Louder.”

I gritted my teeth and raised my voice. “Romeo, wherefore art thou”

“Still pathetic.”

My face burned. “Do you want me to scream it?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

I clenched my fists, my humiliation threatening to spill over. Then I remembered the cafeteria, remembered Sienna’s smirk, remembered Tyler looking away first.

I lifted my chin, filled my lungs, and shouted: “ROMEO, WHEREFORE ART THOU ROMEO?”

My voice echoed across the empty room, bouncing off the walls. The silence that followed was deafening.

Jaxon’s smirk widened. “There she is.”

I blinked, stunned. My chest heaved, adrenaline rushing through me.

“You see?” he said softly, stepping onto the stage. “That’s what I’ve been waiting for. Fire. Power. You’ve had it all along you’re just too scared to use it.”

His eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, the air between us thickened again. I swallowed hard, remembering the ghost of his lips on mine.

“Lesson three,” he murmured, so close I could feel his breath. “Complete.”

And as much as I hated to admit it, a thrill coursed through me. Because for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel like a joke.

I felt like Juliet.