Y/N

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"GOD, I HATE Shakespeare," I mumbled, kicking the ladder off of the wall, "if he was alive today, I would give him a piece of my mind."

It was probably bad luck to say that in the Globe Theater, where Shakespeare put on his most famous plays, but I meant what I said. I literally did. When it came to visual arts, I wasn't afraid to express my opinion on anything.

"You just got here," Sadie laughed, holding out her hands as I passed her the ladder, "why would you hate him?"

Sadie was one of the two friends I made while I was in London. We were both in the Shakespearean Arts Program, which was basically a paid summer camp for people who liked to put on plays, and I pretty much met her yesterday. We shared the same dorms too.

"Because I hate that he always ruins a good story," I huffed, "like Romeo and Juliet!"

"What about them?"

"He killed them!"

"Yeah..." the redhead laughed, "it's one of the most famous endings in all of literature."

"But why would he kill them?" I yelled out into the theater, clutching my heart, "it's infuriating!"

"Are you going on another 'I hate Shakespeare' rants?" Another voice said, strolling in from the wings.

I recognized Caleb's face, the second of the two friends I had made at the program. He also lived in the dorms with me and Sadie, and was probably the calmest guy I've ever met.

"Yes, I am," I huffed, "I just wish he believed in love, and didn't make everything so star-crossed."

"You can't really do anything about it though."

"Why not?"

"Because he's dead, and the plays are already too famous to change."

"Ah, minor complications," I frowned, dusting off the front of my pants, "anyways, my shift is over."

I had the afternoon shift, and Caleb and Sadie had the evening. Our job was mostly to design the sets for the current production, build it, and then work the lighting and cues. Pretty fun stuff, if you ask me.

"Already?" Sadie sighed, glancing at her watch, "dang, I envy you."

"You're the one who picked evening!"

"And I regret it," she laughed, "we'll meet you back at the dorms at five, okay?"

"Sounds good."

Saluting them with two fingers, I yelled my goodbyes and snatched my backpack up from one of the seats in the audience. Bolting down the aisle, I ran out of the circular theater and out into the bustling street of London.

Besides my disliking for Shaespeare's play endings, I liked his taste in cities. London was beautiful.

Even though I had only spent less than two days here, I knew exactly how to get back to the dorms. Take a left from Park Street, head to Scorseby, and then you'd get to the SouthWark Station. British people called the Metra a Tube. I found that fascinating.

As I followed my own directions, I hurried towards my destination with an extra skip in my step. Something about walking in a foreign city always appealed to me. I passed through the lines of shops, underneath a mossy bridge, and past the River Thames, and finally made it to the station with time to spare. Yes!

Sliding down the concrete stairs, I disappeared into the busy crowd of people, slapped my Oyster Card down on the scanner, and made a beeline for the next train.

Which was packed.

"Dammit," I muttered under my breath, "this will be fun."

As I pushed myself into the train car for a spot, I almost stepped on someone's toes. There was barely any room to fit my backpack in with me!

Thankfully, the train started to move as soon as the doors slid closed, and we started to bolt through the underground railroads of the city. Just like the snap of my fingers, we went through platform to platform, almost instantaneously.

I only had one stop left before I reached—

"Oh my god!" I heard someone yell out.

The train suddenly jerked to a stop, and the crowd of people all went tumbling towards the front of the car. At first I was confused on why that person was making such a big deal out of a little turbulence, but then I realized why.

Almost exactly after they yelled out, a plastic cup whacked me in the face, spilling boiling hot tea all over my shirt. I felt like I was burning.

"What the hell?" I exclaimed, the hot water stinging against my skin.

As people on the train started to stare at me in worry, I looked up to see who spilled the tea all over me. A few paces away from me, the crowd had cleared, leaving a teenage boy with his arms outstretched towards me.

He had brown-hair, brown eyes, and was obviously horrified.

"I'm so sorry!" He gasped, covering his mouth with his hand, "the train came to a stop, and I accidentally let go of my cup, and—"

I cut him off, my eyes squinting in pain, "why the hell is your tea so hot?!"

"I just made it," he said, flusteredly untying the navy sweater on his waist. Before I could respond to him, he shoved it towards me with urgency, "here, use my jumper to dry off."

I took it in confusion, but as he suggested, I began to wipe the burning hot liquid off my shirt. I'd be lucky if I didn't have a scar after this.

"Are you okay?" The boy asked, watching as I winced in pain.

"I don't know," I mumbled, "your tea was really hot."

"Frick, this is all my fault."

"I mean, I wouldn't deny that," I said, biting my lip, "but there's nothing we can do about it now."

There was another slight lurch on the train, but this time it was because it was finally pulling into my station. Clutching the straps of my backpack, I gave a half-hearted nod to the boy, and began to leave.

I didn't really want to talk to strangers, and especially not ones who ruined my shirt and burned the hell out of me.

"Hey!" I heard him call out, "wait up!"

As I stepped off the platform, I turned around to see him pushing his way out the door to catch me. What did he want now?

"I feel really bad," he said, pushing his brown hair out of the way, "is there anything I can do?"

"Not really, no."

"I can buy you some ice."

"Erm...I don't think—"

"Or some cold water!"

"Look," I said, waving my hand to cut him off, "I appreciate that you're trying to make it up to me, but I'd really like to get back to my apartment and cool off."

I didn't want to sound like a jerk, but I was dripping wet, embarrassed, annoyed, and uncomfortable.

"Oh," the boy mumbled, scratching the back of his head sheepishly, "yeah, you're right."

"Sorry about your tea," I said, starting to turn around again.

Before I could take another step, I heard him speak again. The train doors were about to close, which made me question why he still wanted to talk to me.

"I'm Louis," he said, holding out his hand, "Partridge."

I cocked a brow, taking his hand and shaking it weakly. He was oddly polite, which was something I didn't usually encounter with strangers back home.

"Nice to meet you, Louis," I said, smiling faintly, "but I really have to go."

"Are you going to tell me your name?"

Spinning on my heels, I began to head towards the busy stairs in front of me. Waving my hand in goodbye, I gave him a polite tilt of the head. Even though he spilled his tea all over me, he was surprisingly nice about it. But, he was still a stranger who I didn't know anything about.

"No, I don't think I will," I called back to him, "Goodbye, Louis."

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First chapter yay! I hope you guys liked it!