‘This is perfect,’ said Rooney, at the exact moment Jason tried to walk into the room and smacked his head on the top of the doorframe so hard that he let out a noise like a startled cat.

To her credit, Rooney had tried to book a decent room for our first ever Shakespeare Soc rehearsal. She’d attempted to book one of the giant rooms in the university buildings near the cathedral where lots of the music and drama societies practised. She’d also tried to book a classroom in the Elvet Riverside building where we had our lectures and tutorials and would take our exams at the end of the year.

But Sadie was failing to reply to Rooney’s emails, and without the DST’s clearance, Rooney was not allowed to book rooms for the Shakespeare Society.

I’d pointed out that we could probably just rehearse in our bedroom, but Rooney insisted we find a proper rehearsal space. ‘To get us in the zone,’ she’d said.

And that’s how we ended up in a rickety room in the centuries-old college chapel with such a low ceiling that Jason, who is six foot three, had to actually crouch a little to walk around in. The carpet was faded and worn and there were decaying Sunday School posters on the walls, but it was quiet and free to use, which was all we really needed.

Pip was on FaceTime to her parents as she entered the room, talking in Spanish too fast for my GCSE-level skills to keep up with, looking somewhat exasperated as her mum kept interrupting her.

‘She’s been talking to them for an hour,’ Jason explained as he sat down, rubbing his head. I sat down on the chair next to him. Pip’s parents had always been somewhat overprotective in a very endearing way. I hadn’t spoken to my parents since last week.

‘Who are you talking to?’ said Rooney, skipping over to Pip and sneaking a glance over her shoulder.

‘Who’s this, nena?’I heard Pip’s dad say. ‘Have you finally got yourself a girlfriend?’

‘NO!’ Pip immediately squawked. ‘She’s – she’s definitely not!’

Rooney waved at Pip’s parents with a wide grin. ‘Hi! I’m Rooney!’

‘Look, I have to go,’ Pip snapped at her phone.

‘What do you study, Rooney?’

She leant in closer to the phone, and closer to Pip as a result. ‘I do English literature! And me and Pip are in the Shakespeare Society together.’

Pip started adjusting her hair, seemingly as a way to put her whole arm in between her body and Rooney’s. ‘I’m going now! I love you! ¡Chau!’

‘Aw,’ said Rooney as Pip hung up the call. ‘Your parents are so cute. And they liked me!’

Pip sighed. ‘They’re going to ask about you every single time they call me, now.’

Rooney shrugged and walked away. ‘Clearly they can see I would make a good girlfriend. Just saying.’

‘And why’s that?’

‘My charm and intelligence, obviously. We’ve been through this.’

I expected Pip to snap back, but she didn’t. She went a little red and then laughed, like she’d found Rooney properly amusing. Rooney turned round, her ponytail flying through the air as she did so, to watch, with an unreadable expression on her face.

It took us twenty minutes to actually get the rehearsal underway, largely because Pip and Rooney would not stop bickering. First about who would play Romeo and Juliet, then about which part of Romeo and Juliet we would perform, and then about how we would perform it.

Even after they agreed to cast Jason and me as Romeo and Juliet, Pip and Rooney spent another fifteen minutes stomping around the room, plotting out the scene and vehemently disagreeing with each other about literally everything, until Jason decided that we should probably intervene.

‘This isn’t working,’ he said. ‘You are not co-directing.’

‘Er, yes,we are,’ said Pip.

‘We have some minor artistic differences,’ said Rooney. ‘But aside from that, this is working absolutely fine.’

I snorted. Pip glared at me.

Rooney put one hand on her hip. ‘If Felipa could just compromise a little, then things would be a bit more straightforward.’

Pip squared up to Rooney. Or, at least, she tried to, but couldn’t quite because Rooney was several inches taller, even with Pip’s hair height.

‘You do not have permission to call me Felipa,’ she said.

‘This is bad,’ I muttered to Jason. He nodded in agreement.

‘How about we just wing it?’ said Jason. ‘Just let me and Georgia have a go at the scene, and we can go from there.’

The two co-directors reluctantly agreed, and all was right for a small moment.

Until I realised that I was about to act a Romeo and Juliet scene with Jason Farley-Shaw.

I loved acting. I loved getting to step into a character and pretend to be someone else. I loved getting to say stuff and behave in ways that I never would in real life. And I knew I was good at it too.

It was the audience that made me nervous, which in this case was Pip and Rooney. And with the added pressure of performing a romantic scene with Jason, my best friend who I was almost dating, it’s hopefully understandable that I was very nervous going into this scene.

Jason and I had copies of Romeo and Juliet in our hands – well, mine was sort of in my arm because I was using my giant Oxford Anthology of Shakespeare – and he had the first line. Pip and Rooney were sitting on chairs with one seat between them, watching.

‘If I profane with my unworthiest hand,’ began Jason, ‘this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a gentle kiss.’

OK. In the zone. I am a romantic lead.

‘Good pilgrim,’ I said, focusing on reading the words in the book and trying not to overthink it, ‘you do wrong your hand too much –’

‘OK, Georgia?’ Pip cut in. ‘Can we have you a bit further away from Jason? Just to emphasise the yearning.’

‘And then you could step a little closer to him as you speak,’ said Rooney. ‘Like, this is your first proper meeting and you’re already obsessed with each other.’

Pip looked at her. ‘Yeah. Good idea.’

Rooney returned her gaze with a slight twitch of her eyebrow. ‘Thank you.’

I did as they instructed and carried on.

‘Which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.’

‘Definitely a hand touch there,’ said Rooney.

Jason held out his hand to me, and I touched it with mine.

I felt a wave of nerves flow through me.

‘Have not saints lips,’ said Jason, staring right at me, ‘and holy palmers too?’

I could feel myself going red. Not because I was flustered or because of the romance of the scene. But because I felt uncomfortable.

‘Ay, pilgrim,’ I replied, ‘lips that they must use in prayer.’

‘Georgia,’ said Pip, ‘can I be honest?’

‘Yeah?’

‘That was supposed to be a super flirty line, but you just look like you need a shit.’

I spluttered out a laugh. ‘Wow.’

‘I know it’s just a read-through but, like … be romantic?’

‘I’m trying.’

‘Are you?’

‘Oh my God.’ I snapped the book shut, kind of annoyed, honestly. I wasn’t a bad actor. Acting had been one of the few things I’d actually excelled at. ‘You’re being so harsh.’

‘Can we start again from the beginning?’

‘Fine.’

Jason and I reset and I opened up my book again.

OK. I was Juliet. I was in love. I had just met this super-hot forbidden boy and was obsessed with him. I could do this.

We read through until we got up to the ‘lips’ bit again, Jason’s hand holding mine.

‘O, then, dear saint,’ said Jason, ‘let lips do what hands do; they pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.’

Jason was giving his everything. God, I felt uncomfortable.

‘Saints do not move, though grant for prayer’s sake.’

‘Then move not, while my prayer’s effects I take.’

Jason suddenly glanced at me kind of awkwardly, then turned to Rooney and Pip and said, ‘Presumably we kiss there.’

Rooney clapped her hands in delight. ‘Yes.’

‘Definitely,’ said Pip.

‘Just a little one.’

‘I dunno. I think it could be a proper kiss there.’

Rooney waggled her eyebrows. ‘Ooh. Felipa’s into this.’

‘I would prefer it,’ said Pip, ‘if you did not call me that.’

Pip really, really didn’t like being called Felipa. She’d gone by Pip ever since I’d known her. She always said she preferred a more masculine-sounding name, and – with the exception of it being used by her family members – Felipa just didn’t feel like her.

Sensing the change of tone in Pip’s choice, Rooney’s smirk dropped.

‘OK,’ said Rooney, more genuinely than I’d heard her talk to Pip so far. ‘Sure. Sorry.’

Pip ruffled her hair and cleared her throat. ‘Thank you.’

They stared at each other.

And then Rooney said, ‘How about I call you Pipsqueak instead?’

Pip instantly looked like she was about to erupt, but Jason spoke before they could start having a full-blown argument. ‘So, the kiss.’

‘You don’t have to do it now,’ said Pip quickly.

‘No,’ Rooney agreed. ‘In future rehearsals, but not now.’

‘OK,’ I said, and stepped back a little, relieved.

Obviously I didn’t want to kiss Jason in front of people. And I didn’t want my first kiss to be in a play.

That was probably why I felt awkward. That was probably why I wasn’t doing my best acting right now.

That was probably why being Juliet, one of the most romantic roles in literary history, made me feel sort of nauseated.

‘That wasn’t … like … awkward or anything, was it?’ Jason whispered to me as we were packing up twenty minutes later.

‘What? No. No, it was – it was fine. Great. It was great. You were great. We’ll be great.’ Too much, Georgia.

He sighed in relief. ‘OK. Good.’

I took a moment to think about it, then before I could talk myself out of it, I said, ‘I don’t want our first kiss to be in a play.’

Jason froze in the middle of stacking chairs. Just for a second. His cheeks flushed. ‘Um, no. No, definitely not.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Yeah.’

When we turned round, I saw Pip looking at us from across the room, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. But before she could say anything, Rooney spoke.

‘Did anyone ask around to try and find our fifth member?’

‘I don’t have any other friends,’ I said immediately, as if everyone wasn’t already fully aware of this.

Jason stepped out of the room so he could finally stand up to his full height. ‘I can try and ask some of my Castle friends, but … I’m not sure they’re really the acting sort.’

‘I’ve already asked my Castle friends,’ said Pip. ‘They said no.’ She turned to Rooney. ‘Don’t you have, like, fifty best friends? Can’t you find someone?’

Rooney’s expression suddenly dropped and for a brief moment she seemed genuinely angry. But then it was gone. She rolled her eyes and said, ‘I don’t have fifty friends.’ But didn’t say more than that.

I had to agree with Pip. It was a little weird that Rooney, who was out partying at least twice a week and was down in the college bar most other days, didn’t have a single other person she could get to join.

‘What about your college husband?’ I suggested. They must have been friends, at least.

Rooney shook her head. ‘I don’t think he’s really into theatre.’

Maybe she wasn’t really as close to those people as I’d thought.

As we all stood in the autumn cold on the cobbled street outside and said our goodbyes, I wondered why Rooney cared so much about this in the first place. So much that she would go to all this effort – starting a new society, being the director, putting on her own play.

We’d known each other for a few weeks now. I knew that she was a sex-positive party girl and a Shakespeare enthusiast who could put on a smile to make you like her.

But as for why she did any of the things she did?

I had no idea.