"Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear," he said, his eyes locking with yours as he perched on the improvised balustrade, casually attired, "that tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops-."

"Do not swear at all," you replied, "or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, which is the god of my idolatry, and I'll believe thee-"

Your voice resonated through the half-empty concert hall, but it was abruptly silenced by a kiss. He held your shoulder tightly, and his lips met yours.

"Ezra! Yes, it's a rehearsal," your teacher and part-time theater director exclaimed, jumping from his seat in the front row. "But that kiss wasn't in the script!" He clapped his hands to gain your attention, and you could hear the laughter of other students backstage.