"So, i've heard you're helping Preston with his play?" David asked me, giving me my breakfast. The usual pancakes..
"Yeah, so?" I mumbled, stuffing pancakes into my mouth.
"I think that's really sweet of you, Max." He sat beside me, taking a piece of bacon out of my tray.
"Blah blah blah.." I sighed.
--

"Jules? Julian? Juan?" Preston paced around in his tent. "What's a good name for the male Juliet?" He wondered.
"Dude, Julian sounds the best for me- I MEAN.." Fuck! No!
"You want to be Julian? You can if you want.." He offered me, sitting down.
But Preston's Romeo! What.. I guess it wouldn't be that bad to kiss him..
"Yeah. Whatever.." I looked away. "Better practice my lines I guess."
Preston nodded and handed me the lines.
"You look like a red tomato.." I teased him, reading the lines. He chuckled, covering his face.

"Good pilgrim, you don't give your hand enough credit." I confidently spoke.
"By holding my hand you show polite devotion. After all, pilgrims touch the hands of statues of saints. Holding one palm against another is like a kiss." I looked at Preston. He looked like he was going to faint.
"D-Don't saints and pilgrims have lips too?" He stuttered, grabbing my hand as he pulled me up.
"Yes, pilgrim—they have lips that they're supposed to pray with." I winked.
"W-Well then, s-saint, let lips do what hands do. I'm praying for you to k-kiss me. Please grant my prayer so my faith doesn't turn to d-despair." He replied, his lips quivering.

"You know you don't have to do this. I don't want to force you. It looks like you're going to faint." I said, realising my grip on his hand. He looked down.
"Saints don't move, even when they grant prayers." I said, putting my hands in my pockets for comfort.
"Then don't move while I-" He started, then got interupted.
"OKAY KIDS! TIME TO GO SWIMMING!" David yelled, bursting through the tent.
Saved by the bell, or should I say David?
"Phew.."  Preston sighed, and walked outside the tent.