Work Text:
Benedict had been staring at the back of the head of the girl in front of him rather intently for the past ten minutes. His eyes were squinted in concentration as he stared at her long hair, trying to place it in his memory. She’d already been seated when he’d taken the seat behind her, but something about the wave of each lock and the soft curve of her neck was achingly familiar.
The professor leading the class was droning on about Shakespeare and the different works they’d be studying throughout their time together this semester, but Benedict’s mind was elsewhere as he stared down at the syllabus in front of him. He had fished a pen out of his bag when he had first taken his seat and he took it up now to distract his mind, sketching a portrait of what looked suspiciously like his younger sister, Hyacinth.
Benedict was an art major, and a particularly good one at that. He’d been rather embarrassed to tell his family that he wanted to study art at university, especially his older brother, but Anthony had simply given him a pat on the back and told him rather good-naturedly that if he was going to be paying part of Benedict’s tuition, it might as well be going towards something he actually wanted to do with his life. And art was it. From figure drawing to oil painting, there was nothing he loved more than getting to create something beautiful with his bare hands.
He’d managed to scrape through his first three years of university without having to do too many courses outside of the art department, only suffering through the odd calculus and biology class, until his advisor had told him he was drastically behind his elective credits and needed to enroll in one as soon as possible if he wished to graduate on time. Out of all of Benedict’s options, the Shakespeare intensive had seemed the least painful. He’d always been a fan of the Bard’s work, having read quite a few sonnets and plays in his younger self’s attempts at becoming more worldly. Spending a semester studying things he already knew surely wouldn’t be too painful.
A soft “Hi,” broke him out of his stupor and he lifted his head to see the girl in front of him had turned her chair around to face him. A warm smile lit up her kind face, a soft glow seeming to radiate from her rosy cheeks and full lips. She started saying something about icebreakers and project partners, but Benedict’s brain couldn’t focus on anything other than the fact that the mystery girl in his Shakespeare class was Sophie Beckett.
It had been ten years since the last time he saw her, but Benedict would’ve recognized her anywhere. She’d been twelve years old with a sunburn spreading across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail and her knees bruised from the past two weeks of rock climbing and dock jumping. Now Sophie’s dark brown waves framed the sweet features of her face in a perfectly manicured fashion. Somewhere over the years she’s traded in her bitten nails for a pale pink polish and her cut-off shorts for a cardigan and delicate gold jewelry. She was distinctly woman now, but Benedict’s heart still jumped like he was that thirteen year old boy again.
He’d met Sophie on his first day as a camper at Camp Danbury, the sleepaway camp his mother had been sending him and his siblings to since Anthony was first old enough. The camp was run by an old family friend of the Bridgertons’ and his mother had insisted that the fresh forest air and endless opportunities to tumble around in the dirt would be good for her rambunctious clan.
Benedict had been dreading going since he had turned thirteen, trying to frantically come up with any plausible excuse he could as to why he could not attend. It would be the first summer he’d be in a camp division by himself, Anthony too old to be with his age group and Colin and Daphne too young. He’d been riddled with anxiety all throughout meeting his cabinmates and the opening night bonfire at the lake, until a girl in a bright blue camp shirt barreled straight into him on the walk back up to the main part of camp.
It was her first year at Camp Danbury and she’d gotten separated from her cabin. In her rush to find them before it got dark, she’d crashed into Benedict and almost brought them both tumbling to the ground. He’d quickly caught her in his arms, righting the two of them before they hit the dirt. She introduced herself as Sophie and he’d stared intently at her as if she’d just offered him the chance to touch the stars. And just like that, Benedict Bridgerton had fallen in love for the first time.
They’d spent the next two weeks together in puppy love bliss, holding hands as they jumped in the lake during free swim and made matching tie-dye shirts. Sophie taught him how to make a friendship bracelet, Benedict taught her to paint with watercolors. They shared nervous, chaste first kisses behind the mess hall after lights out. Anthony lectured him about making safe choices, Colin teased him mercilessly about his new girlfriend, and Daphne started slipping him pictures of wedding dresses she had designed during lunch.
For the first time, Benedict’s two week stay at Camp Danbury seemed to fly by. Everyday he spent with Sophie, he fell a little bit more in love with her, in the way that only unguarded children do. At the end of camp, he’d clutched a handwritten letter he’d forced Anthony to help him write (he was good with art, but still working on his words) and shuffled nervously towards the kind girl who’d stolen his heart. Before he could reach Sophie, her stepmother had peeled into the parking lot, barking loudly at her to hurry up before they were late to one of her sister’s dance recitals. Benedict had chased towards her, desperate to catch her before she vanished, but it had been too late. He had lost her.
And now ten years later, here she was, sitting in front of him in his Shakespeare class, waiting patiently for him to form a coherent sentence. Her eyes were full of warmth, but didn’t seem to hold any recognition in them. Benedict swallowed nervously and rose a little straighter in his seat. If the two weeks they had shared hadn’t been as memorable to her as they had to him then he didn’t see any reason he should embarrass himself and bring it up. He instead settled for a gentle “Hi.”
“I’m Sophie.”
“Benedict. It’s nice to meet you.”
Something seemed to waver over her face, as if she had been taken aback by something he had said, but it was gone too quickly for him to place it. She pushed her syllabus towards him and he noticed she had underlined a few lines in a sparkly blue pen.
Final Project - 50% of Grade:You and a partner (who will be assigned on the first day of class) will be expected to end our semester together by performing your interpretation of a scene from one of the approved plays on the list below. Your performance must show a demonstration of your understanding of the material. Remember: this is college. You will be expected to work as a team without needing any interference from me.
“Well,” Benedict said as he raised his head to once again meet her gaze. “I suppose that would make you my partner?”
“I suppose it would,” Sophie responded. “Do you have a certain play in mind that you hold as a favorite?”
Benedict peered over the list in front of him, letting out a groan of disgust as he read the first one. “Anything but Romeo and Juliet. Such an overrated cliche.”
“Hey!” Sophie gasped. “I’ll have you know that Romeo and Juliet is one of my favorites. It’s not famous for nothing.”
At some point during her spiel, she’d patted at his hand and Benedict could’ve sworn that the simple pressure of her touch had set his entire arm on fire. His brain started slowing down again, completely overwhelmed by her presence, but he forced himself to stay present. He was not a lovesick little thirteen year old anymore and he wouldn’t allow himself to act like it.
“Fine. How about this…” Sophie’s brows quirked at the lilt in his tone. “We’ll pick a scene from Romeo and Juliet to perform. But by the end of the semester, you’ll have to convince me to like it.”
“And how exactly do you propose I do that?”
Benedict grinned. “Well, I suppose that’s up to you.”
Sophie leaned back in her chair, arms crossing as her gaze dragged over him. She looked like she was searching for something - and must have found whatever it was - before her face broke out into a wide smile. “Game on, Bridgerton.”
Benedict was so caught up in the moment that he didn’t even stop to realize he hadn’t yet told her his last name.
—
“Stop laughing!”
Anthony was practically laying across the table they were currently seated out, his cheeks turning a vibrant shade of red as hysterical laughter rocked his body. Kate, his girlfriend, had just returned from grabbing their coffees from the barista and she gave a particularly potent roll of her eyes when she saw his behavior.
“Your brother is miserable and you’re laughing at him!” she exclaimed, handing Anthony his Americano and then promptly whacking his arm.
“Because he’s being an idiot!”
“Of course he’s being an idiot!” Kate flashed Benedict an apologetic look. “But you’re taking far too much pleasure in his misery considering the fact that it took me nearly moving across the world for you to admit that you were in love with me.”
“At least it didn’t take me ten years,” Anthony grumbled.
Benedict let out a pained groan, letting his head fall forward and rest on the cool table. It had been two months since he had met Sophie again and every day he had spent in her presence felt like a new mix of exquisite torture and agonizing joy. It was clear that she held no memory of thirteen year old Benedict, but that was no longer his biggest issue. Now he had to contend with the fact that he was, once again, falling hopelessly and all-consumingly in love with Sophie Beckett.
Since that first day of their Shakespeare class, they’d begun spending more and more time together, falling into an easy friendship. Benedict liked the fact that he was now able to get to know her all over again, learn about how all of her favorite things had changed as she had grown. Sophie was an education major, and while none of their other classes intersected, they had still taken up meeting to study once or twice a week. They would start with their Shakespeare homework before moving on to their individual tasks. Benedict often found himself using Sophie as his model for whatever art piece he needed to complete, having drawn the gentle slope of her nose and the fullness of her cheeks enough times he was sure he could do it solely from memory. By the time he was finished, she would push the assignment she had been creating across the table for him to do. It was most often an educational craft aimed at preschoolers, but he found that he enjoyed doing them for her nonetheless.
They’d created an easy rhythm and a comfortable routine for the two of them to sink into. But a single text from Sophie that morning had sent all of that spiraling.
“Okay, Benedict, I have to admit,” Kate started, interrupting his wallowing. “I don’t really see what the crisis is. You told her to pick which scene from Romeo and Juliet you two were gonna work on and now she has. How are you any worse off than you were yesterday?”
“Because she picked Act One, Scene Five!” he exclaimed. Anthony nodded solemnly in agreement and both brothers looked expectantly at Kate.
“Not all of us have every work written by a Brit memorized by heart,” Kate snarked. She took a sip of her chai and stared at Benedict with a raised brow and narrowed eyes over the rim of her cup, clearly waiting for him to explain further.
Benedict, who had grown rather used to her irritated stares over the two years she had been dating his brother, sighed and fished out his copy of the play from his bag. He had highlighted his lines and stuck a sticky note on the first page this morning and handed it over to Kate. She opened his book without a word and began reading. He could tell as soon as she landed on his issue, her brown eyes widening and her mouth dropping open into an ‘O’ of surprise. She finished the scene and closed the cover soundlessly, laying her hands on top in an oddly formal fashion.
“Well…” Kate trailed off. “I can see how this might change things.”
“Change things?” Benedict asked, his voice quite a few octaves higher than it normally was. “She picked their first kiss, Kate!”
“Don’t get hysterical on me,” she retorted, Anthony snickering at her comment. “This could be a good thing. She may not remember you from your Camp Danbury days, but she clearly likes you. Why else would she have chosen a scene where she has to kiss you?”
“That’s a good point,” Anthony chimed in.
“Of course it is. I said it, didn’t I?”
“Oh, because you’re so known for your abundance of logic!”
Benedict picked up his phone, tuning out the sound of Kate and Anthony’s bickering that would inevitably end with them their announcing their exit before they had sex in the parking lot in the backseat of Kate’s Subaru. He found himself opening his text thread with Sophie and staring longingly at the messages.
Sophie: Here’s the scene I was thinking for the two of us… what do you think?
[ Attached: three screenshots]
Benedict: looks great!
Sophie: There is no way you read it that fast!
Benedict: okay fine actually reading it
Benedict: okay… interesting choice for sure!
Sophie: I don’t know, it’s one of my favorites. There’s just something about falling in love for the first time, you know?
Didn’t he ever.
As he scrolled to the bottom of their thread, he realized there was a new message there he had missed.
Sophie: Hey! I don’t know what your schedule is like today, but I was wondering if you had some free time if you wanted to come over to my place and start working on our scene? No worries if you’re busy ❤️
Benedict peaked from around his phone to assess the state of the couple sitting across from him. Kate and Anthony had somehow managed to move even closer together than they had already been sitting, their eyes trapped in some sort of erotic staring contest. Anthony was stroking a soft hand up and down her arm and every time his fingers brushed pressure against her, Kate shivered slightly.
Without saying a word, Benedict fished out his wallet, put a five down in the middle of the table, grabbed his backpack, and left. Neither Kate nor Anthony looked up to even so much as acknowledge his exit. He couldn’t say he was particularly surprised. They had become quite notorious amongst the family for how deeply… involved they got with each other. None of them could really find it in themselves to be too bothered by it, especially not Benedict. Anthony had become the man of the household after their father’s untimely death seven years ago and had been carrying the weight of brother, father, and son since then. He had always looked up to their father as the example of the ideal man, but for Benedict it had always been his older brother. Seeing him so happy, even if it came at the cost of Anthony's attention, was all he could’ve asked for.
As he slid into the front seat of his BMW, he fired off a quick text to Sophie. His phone dinged with her incoming reply not even a full thirty seconds later and Benedict smiled at her eagerness.
Benedict: hey i’d love to come over! i can head over now if you want?
Sophie: Sounds great! Here’s my address!
[ Attached: one screenshot]
Sophie: Excited to see you ❤️
—
Sophie’s apartment somehow managed to look exactly like he imagined it would. It was small, but in a way that felt cozy and not stifling. Her decor was a mix of pale blue, white, and natural wood and she had vases of flowers in nearly every room. Her walls were covered in framed photos and as he moved closer to look at them, one stuck out to him. It was a much younger Sophie, her hair pulled back into two twin braids and a smattering of freckles dancing over a sunburn that stretched from cheek to cheek. Her torso was clad in a navy blue hoodie and was facing away from the camera, but she had turned her head backwards so the photographer could catch her face scrunched up into a toothy smile. Her right arm was wrapped around the shoulder of a boy who was facing away from the camera and seemed to be made up of nothing but floppy hair and gangly limbs. Benedict recognized the kid instantly.
It was him.
Anthony had taken the photo on his disposable camera during their last bonfire of Camp Danbury. Sophie had had her knees pulled up to her chest, her skin was rising with goosebumps as she shivered. Benedict had quickly peeled off the hoodie he had been wearing and handed it to her, a warm blush overtaking his cheeks as he watched her slip her small frame inside of it. She had leaned against him as soon as the baggy fabric settled around him and his older brother had snatched up his camera to document the moment, muttering something about first love and memories. And now, ten years later, Sophie had it hanging on her wall. Fuck.
“I went to a sleepaway camp when I was twelve. Only went once, but there was something about that picture that I always loved.”
Her soft voice made him jump and Benedict turned to face her as Sophie walked over next to him. It took his breath away for a minute, the young Sophie that had been his first love hanging on the wall and the now woman Sophie that he loved so deeply now standing beside him.
“Who’s the kid?”
Sophie’s eyes burned as they met his own. Her face was unreadable, but Benedict was still desperately waiting to hear the words fall from her lips. You, Benedict. It’s you.
“Just a friend I made during those two weeks.”
Just a friend.
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” Sophie shrugged. “Anyways.. Wanna start looking over the scene?”
Benedict followed her to the couch, his heart sinking further into his chest with every step. She knew him, but she still didn’t know him. It hurt more than he thought it would: the confirmation that his memory didn’t stick in her brain that way it had for him, that he could still hang on her wall and matter so little.
“Hey, you okay?”
Sophie’s voice broke through his anxious thoughts and he raised his eyes from his lap to her face. There was clear concern painted across her features, her brown eyes warm as she placed a gentle hand on his knee. There was so much care in the simple touch that it nearly overwhelmed him and Benedict couldn’t help but feel a rush of peace wash over him. It still stung, but she was here, wasn’t she? And it was clear that Sophie cared for him in some capacity. He shouldn’t be greedy, shouldn’t be dwelling on the fact that a thirteen year old boy hadn’t shaken her world off her axis. Benedict loved her as she was now, as the wonderful woman that she’d grown to be, and that could be enough
It would be enough.
“I’m good,” Benedict said, grabbing their script books off the coffee table as he inched closer to her. “I promise.”
Their fingers brush as he hands her her copy and it’s like his arm goes halfway numb from the sparks shooting up it. Sophie’s skin is soft and he ached to feel every inch of it against his own. She must be able to see the hunger that rises in his eyes because her full cheeks go pink with heat and she averts her gaze from his face down to the paper in front of her.
“Let’s start,” she squeaked and Benedict couldn’t help but grin.
Soon his smile had dissolved into boisterous laughter as the pair started to work their way through the script. The majority of the characters were male and Sophie insisted on reading the lines of each in a new and positively awful accent. Her Butler was a crude attempt at a Scottish accent, her Capulet a member of the nobility of Texas, and her Benvolio bared a strikingly poor resemblance to Ewan McGregor.
Benedict could barely get through half of his lines, the Bard’s words falling out of his mouth in broken tumbles of laughter and old English. It was ridiculous how much fun he was having reading over a play that had once put him to sleep as a teenager, but he knew that it had everything to do with the woman he was doing it with.
“Benedict, you have to be serious!”
“I’m trying! It’s not my fault you’ve decided to turn one of the most revered works of literature into Shrek!”
A fit of giggles escaped Sophie and she whacked him in the arm with her book. “Benedict, come on! We’re just getting to the good parts!”
“Okay, okay!” He took a deep breath and straightened his posture, glancing over the next set of lines before meeting her gaze once again.
“If I profane with my unworthiest hand, this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this,” Benedict took Sophie’s hand softly in his, their fingers barely touching one another’s. It seemed as if the humor had been sucked clean out of the room the second their flesh came into contact. “My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand, to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.”
They had drifted closer as Benedict had recited Romeo’s lines, their knees bumping together as they leaned in to one another. Sophie was so close that with every exhale he could feel it brush gently against his face.
“Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this,” She flipped her hand so their palms were resting against one another. “For saints have hands that pilgrims’s hands do not touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.”
“Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?”
“Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.”
Benedict thought that he might pass out. Never had the words seemed so sensual before, so full of passion and wanting. They were inching near and nearer to Romeo and Juliet’s first kiss. Was he supposed to kiss her? Was he supposed to skip over it entirely? His stomach was swimming with nerves as he pushed on through the scene.
“O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; they pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.”
“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake,” Sophie murmured, her voice barely rising above a whisper. Every word that fell out of her mouth fanned across Benedict’s cheek and he was dizzy with the sweetness of her cadence.
His brain was near mush and he could barely string his next line together. “Then move not, while these prayer’s… Wait, shit that’s not rig-”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Benedict!” Sophie exclaimed and then the world stood still because her mouth was on his and oh, this was what Shakespeare had been writing about.
He’d kissed Sophie once, as a thirteen year old boy, hidden behind Camp Dambury’s mess hall. It had been chaste and quick, tasting of bug juice and sunscreen, but the way her eyes had fluttered clothes and her arms had wrapped around his neck had sent Benedict’s heart flying.
But that was nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to this. In her complete and utter annoyance at his inability to form a sentence, Sophie had thrown herself into Benedict’s lap, her legs tangled with his as her fingers wound themselves into the soft curls at the nape of his neck. He was surrounded by vanilla and jasmine as she worked her full lips over his. It took Benedict a minute to catch up, to fully process that he was kissing Sophie Beckett, but once he did, a flip switched in his brain and he was suddenly more awake than he had ever been.
One of his hands drifted to rest over her lower back while the other reached up to cup her jaw. Sophie’s fingers quickly traveled from his hair down to his neck, the soft pads digging into his collarbones as she pulled him closer to her. Benedict felt like he was being consumed from the inside. Every inch of his body that was touching hers, from his tongue down to his shins, was burning.
Sophie somehow managed to wrench her mouth away from his, her chest heaving with the weight of her heavy breaths. The lack of touch was nearly too much for Benedict to bear and he found himself tracing her soft jawline with his tongue, pressing a soft kiss to the birthmark on her cheek before continuing down the column of her throat. He gently nipped at her delicate skin before soothing it with the heat of his tongue, growing near delirious with the onslaught of Sophie to his senses.
“Benedict,” she murmured, pulling gently at his hair.
He pulled away from her immediately, staring up at her with wide eyes. She was worrying her kiss-swollen bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes nervously darting over his face, and Benedict instantly knew what she was too worried to convey.
“What? You don’t Bard and Bone on the first date?”
Sophie threw her head back and laughed, the kind of bright, joyous laughter that was impossible not to join in on, and soon the two of them had fallen back into a puddle of limbs and giggles against the couch.
“Thank you,” she whispered, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek.
“I just want to be with you, Sophie. That’s all I want,” Benedict replied as he pulled her back against his chest.
“I mean, I’d also like to get an A in this class, but this works too,” she teased.
—
“I still can’t believe you insisted on meeting here,” Benedict said as he started to peel off the copious amounts of layers he had bundled himself into to trek across campus to the student theater. It was the first day of December and the skies had decided to open up with a thick flurry of snow. There hadn’t been another soul on his walk over, but whatever his girlfriend wanted, she got.
“I just thought it would add to the ambiance!” Sophie responded with a soft laugh as she wrapped her arms around Benedict’s back. It was moments like this, moments so full of easy love and comfortable companionship, that Benedict couldn’t believe that he had ever gone so long without her.
They had fallen into a relationship so naturally after they had shared that first - second - kiss that sometimes it was hard to remember what life was like without Sophie in it. She had woven herself into every aspect of his world in a way that was seamless, but not overbearing. He walked her to class, she met him after his, they had dinner at his apartment and sex at hers, and everywhere they went together involved them holding hands.
The first - second- time he had introduced her to his family, Benedict had felt like his nerves were completely frayed. It had been over the fall holiday and Sophie had enthusiastically agreed to come to his family’s vacation home, Aubrey Hall, with him. He was worried that the opulence of the manor and the chaos of a week with the Bridgertons would send her running, but he quickly realized that his own personal fears had no bearing on Sophie.
They had barely even gotten out of his car when Hyacinth and Gregory had come barreling down the front steps, his youngest brother throwing himself into his arms while his youngest sister ran straight to Sophie. Hyacinth had grabbed her by the hand and started leading her into the house, blabbering about how pretty she was and Pall Mall and how if she were to walk by a closed door it would be best to try to avoid opening it because it was most likely an indicator that Kate and Anthony were doing something they were most definitely not supposed to be doing in that room.
The overwhelming presence of Hyacinth didn’t faze Sophie in the slightest and Benedict couldn’t have been more overjoyed to see how easily she melted into the mess of his family. His mother had immediately pulled her into a tight hug, Daphne had fawned over her kind smile and “gorgeous” sweater, Colin had offered her half of his sandwich, Eloise had been overjoyed that she had a bisexual flag pin on her backpack, Francesca had simply apologized for the sheer volume of her siblings with a kind smile, and Gregory and Hyacinth had once again dominated her attention by pulling her onto the living room floor to play a particularly spirited game of Uno with them.
Benedict had been leaning against the doorframe watching the scene unfold when Anthony and Kate had arrived. Kate had dashed in quickly, wrapping him in a tight hug and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before joining Sophie and the youngest Bridgertons on the floor. Anthony had lingered longer, leaning against his younger brother so they were pressed shoulder to shoulder in the doorway.
“You seem happy,” he had said, a genuine smile on his face as they watched their girlfriends and youngest siblings play. Gregory tried to slip an Uno card in his pocket, which Sophie immediately noticed and pointed it out to Kate, who with the help of Hyacinth, mercilessly tickled Gregory until he forked it over.
“I am happy,” Benedict replied, nudging Anthony with his shoulder. “Guess we both are.”
Anthony laughed at that, pulling Benedict further into his side as he squeezed him in a half hug. “It’s about time, isn’t it?”
It certainly was. And over the last month and a half with Sophie, he had been happier than he ever dreamed he could have been. Sure, there were still times when Benedict caught her staring at him from across the room, an unreadable look on her face, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she was trying to find traces of the thirteen year old boy she once knew, the one that still hung in a photo on her wall.
But Sophie had never again mentioned Camp Danbury and Benedict never once brought it up, so as over-the-moon happy he was, he was always left wondering.
“You know what I was thinking?”
Benedict was pulled from his thoughts by Sophie, who was sitting on a chair in center stage. “Almost always, but hardly ever,” he replied with a smile as he took the seat across from her, their knees rocking together as they intertwined their fingers.
“Well, you know how we’re supposed to do our own interpretation of the scene?”
“Mmhmm,” Benedict hummed, more focused on the lilac of Sophie’s nail than the words coming from her mouth.
“So we didn’t really do that because we were so caught up on the lines and accents and you know… other activities.” Benedict smiled at that. “And we only have a day left, so I thought the easiest thing to do would be if we just changed the setting, you know?”
“If that’s what you want to do.”
Sophie rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face betrayed her true temperament. “I’m really gonna have to do this whole project myself, huh? You really don’t have any ide-”
“What about a summer camp?” The words were falling out of Benedict’s mouth before he could stop them. It had been too perfect of an opportunity, almost as if she had set it up for him, but the way her eyes widened in surprise did nothing but tie his stomach into knots. “I mean, the scene is about first love, right? And I don’t know-”
“Benedict.“
“Like, people fall in love there? Colin swore the lifeguard his first year was his soulmate forev-”
“Benedict!”
“And obviously that’s ridiculous because you know Colin and he’s not married to a lifegu-”
“Benedict, shut up!”
The sheer volume of Sophie’s voice made his mouth instantly snap shut. He looked at her, really looked at her for the first time since he’d started nervously rambling. There was a faint blush rising into her cheeks, but her eyes were narrowed in what could be either displeasure or confusion, Benedict wasn’t too sure.
“You remember.”
She said it so simply, like they were just two words and not the answer to the question he had been mentally obsessing over since their first day of class. ‘You remember,’ she said, which meant that she remembered.
Fuck. She remembered.
Benedict opened his mouth to say something, to say absolutely anything, but all that came out was a strangled groan that sounded like someone had just stepped on his throat.
“You’re a massive git, you know that?”
He nodded blankly. Oh, did he ever.
“This whole time… we’ve been dating for almost two months! We’ve known each other again for close to four!” Sophie exclaimed. “Why didn’t you say anything?” her voice softened with the question, visible doubt inching into her gaze. “Did it not… did you not care?”
“No!” Benedict shouted, shifting forward in his chair and squeezing her hands in his. “Sophie, I have thought about you every single day of my life since I watched you peel out of the Camp Danbury parking lot in your stepmom’s mini-van. And I don’t know…” he trailed off, pained at the fact that she could think for even a second she didn’t matter to him, but embarrassed by the truth. “I didn’t want you to think I was crazy. I was thirteen. I didn’t even know how to ride a bike yet - stop laughing!”
Sophie had snickered none too quietly at his admission, warmth sneaking back into her eyes. “And I was twelve. But you still meant everything to me. I’d never felt love or kindness or anything good like what I felt being around you those two weeks, so I clung to it. When I walked into class that first day and saw you sitting there, I knew it was you right away. You’ve grown, but that smile,” she reached a hand forward and pressed her thumb into his bottom lip. “That smile has stayed the same ten years later.”
“I’m so sorry I didn’t say it sooner, Sophie. I was scared. But I love you,” Benedict said earnestly, bringing her fingers up to his lips. “I love you for who you were then and I love you for who you are now. I love you for all the people you were in-between and for the people you’re going to become. I love you, Sophie.”
“Shit,” Sophie snuffled, tears falling freely down her cheeks. “That’s so much better than anything Shakespeare wrote.”
—
Benedict: guess what
Anthony: Guess what?
Benedict: oh wtf!!!
Benedict: fine, you go first. i want my news to go last cause it’s more exciting.
Anthony: Okay, well, Kate’s pregnant.
Benedict: WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Benedict: ANTHONY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Benedict: YOU’RE GONNA BE A DAD!!!!!!!!!
Benedict: wait FUCK so that’s much better than my news was
Anthony: Haha, what was yours?
Benedict: turns out sophie does remember me from camp danbury after all
Anthony: Very happy for you… but yeah, my news is definitely better.
Benedict: you know, she said she remembered you too
Benedict: said you were super fucking annoying
Anthony: No, she didn’t.
Benedict: no, she didn’t
“Benedict!” Sophie shrieked, running frantically down the hallway towards him. She was wearing her old Camp Danbury shirt and a pair of cut-off shorts, fully in costume for their performance of their Shakespeare scene. The image made him smile so hard he thought his face might get stuck like that. “Can you put your phone down and help me tie my friendship bracelet?”
Benedict fumbled with the strings, trying to tighten the bracelet that he had stayed up far too late last night making for her. “Soph, guess what? Kate and Anthony are gonna be parents!”
“I know! Isn’t it so exciting?”
“Wait, what do you mean you know?” Benedict asked.
“Kate told me three days ago,” Sophie said with a shrug. “You know we talk all the time.”
Benedict floundered for a minute, the knowledge that his girlfriend had somehow managed to learn that his mess of an older brother was going to be a father before he had nearly sending his brain into a shut down.
“Benedict,” Sophie murmured, wrapping him in her arms. “She hadn’t even told Anthony yet.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, alright,” Benedict placed a quick kiss to her forehead as the professor called out their names, ushering them down to the stage with a frantic wave of his hand. “Guess this is us. Ready, Juliet?”
Sophie smiled and took his outstretched hand. “Ready, Romeo.”