Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Layla's POV
Word of the new girl, Allison Argent flowed through the hallway of Beacon Hills High quickly. It wasn't surprising that she was the newest hot topic, we usually didn't get that many new students, especially ones so pretty.
I knew that it was her the second I saw an unfamiliar head of glossy black curls on an incredibly tall girl, with a slender build and a square shaped face. "Hi, I'm Layla Davis and I couldn't help but notice that I haven't seen you around and you're bag is to die for. Where'd you get it?"
Allison looked up down at me with her chocolate brown eyes a few shades darker than my own. "Yeah, I just moved here, and my mother was a buyer from a boutique in San Francisco."
"And you are my new best friend." I joked, frowning fascinated in anyone who had such a killer fashion sense.
Before I had a chance to further our conversation, two hands found their way around my hips along with lips kissing my cheek. "So this is the new girl?" Jackson's raspy tone filled my ears, as he looked at the new face.
"Her names Allison and her fashion sense is killer."
Jackson tilted up his chin as a sign of acknowledgement. "You invited her yet?" He reminds me, hand hand absentmindedly playing with my hair.
My eyes widened and a small gasp escaped my lips. "No, I forgot. There's a party this Friday, I'm hosting, you should come."
Allison looked down at her boots, and I knew that's she was going to come up with some excuse as to why she couldn't attend. Jackson and I had perfected the art of doing so to some of the immature teenage boys and girls that threw mediocre parties every once in a while. "I can't. Friday's family night."
With his free hand, Jackson pinched my side gently indicating that he too picked up on her lie but didn't care enough to comment on it. "It's cool, as long as you stay after school with Layla to watch me practice. She doesn't like being alone because she says she gets bored."
I scoff, moving my head to look up at him. "You would too if I talked about dancing twenty-four seven."
Argent looked at us with confusion clear in her sharp features. "Like football?"
"Football's a joke here in Beacon. No, our sport's lacrosse. We've won state championship for three years."
"I thought you were sophomores."
"We are, but I had a coach accept me a year early."
I rolled by eyes at him, picking up on the cocky tone that was twisting its way through Jacksons voice. "Let's go, before his ego inflates larger than it already has."
"Actually, I was—"
"Great."
----- 3rd POV
During the entire practice, Layla couldn't help but notice that Allison was sneaking glances at a shaggy haired boy with tanned skin, puppy dog eyes, and a slightly crooked jaw-line. "Who's that?" She questioned, trying her best to seem discrete during her stare fest.
"Who? Scott McCall? He's been on the team since last year, he's usually a bench warmer though because he's not very good." Layla admits, reaching her glove covered hands up to play with the ends of her hair. "Why do you ask?"
"No reason, he's just in my English class."
The assistance coach rang his whistle, signaling the boys in the line to start throwing the lacrosse balls at the net where Scott resided. The first ball that left the starting boys lacrosse stick hit Scott in the face, sending his body to the ground because of the intensity of the swing. "Way to take on with your face McCall. That's the spirit."
After the first failed attempt, something changed in the teenage boys playing performance. Now, every boy he went against he caught every ball. Even Jackson Whittemore's, which was very odd. No one caught Jacksons ball when he was up to play.
The small crowd that had gathered in the bleachers stood up to applaud the boy. "I though you said he wasn't very good." By now, Allison's pale cheeks were twinged with red from the cold weather.
