Of Love And Hate, You Were My Greatest Mistake

Of Love And Hate, You Were My Greatest Mistake ~1~

the song she's singing is on the side if anyone wants to hear it!

***

“Every single day, I walk down the street. I hear people say ‘baaabbyyy, so sweet!’” Laila Bay Thornton gripped her light pink hairbrush tightly, letting water cascade down her face as she sang at the top of her lungs. She flipped her soaked hair over her shoulder and turned off the shower water. “Ever since puberty, everybody stares at me! Boys, girls, I can’t help it, baaabbyyy,” She continued singing as she tousled her hair in a towel until most of the water was gone, leaving it to damply hang an inch or two past her shoulders. She wrapped the fluffy towel around her body and stepped out of the tub, leaving a damp path from the steamy bathroom to her room. She ran the brush, still in her hand, through her hair a couple times before tossing it on the dresser. “A tiger in a cage, can never see the sun! This diva needs her stage, baaabbyyy, let’s have fun! You are the one I chooose, folks would kill to fill your shoes,” Laila swayed her hips dramatically to the tune of her own song and flung the door open to her closet. She strolled in, and a minute later came out wearing short shorts and a lacy pink bra.

“No waayyy, can I be what I’m not! But heeyy, don’t you want your girl hot?” Flirtatious eye met with the reflection in her vanity. She picked up her brush and hopped on the bed, her turquoise toe nails standing out sorely against the red covers. She held the brush up to her mouth just in time for her favorite part of the song. “Don’t fiiight, doonnn’t lose your heeaaddd, cause every niiighht whooo’s in yoourr beeddd? Who? Whooo’s in your bedd?”

“Hey! Shut the bloody hell up!”

Laila ignored the voice and kept singing, skipping to her favorite belt. “Take me for what I ammm! Whooo I was meant to beee! Aaandd if youuu giiivveee a daamnnn, take me baby or l-l-l-leave me! Take me baabbyyy--”

“I said shut the bloody hell up!” A loud thud sounded from the window and she swirled on her bed to see who was interrupting her daily performance. A boy, about Laila’s own age, was glaring out the window across from her own. She hopped off the bed and walked up to the window, wrenching it open and staring across the five foot gap between them.

“What is your problem?” Laila demanded, glaring across the way. He leaned his head out his own already opened window and looked her up and down.

“Where’s your shirt?” He countered. She took a moment to process what he had said, caught off guard by his heavy British accent.

“I’m not wearing one, obviously. If you have a problem with it stop staring in my room,” She slammed her window shut and walked back over to her bed, picked up her brush, and started where she left off. “Or leeeave meee--”

“For fuck’s sake, would you please--”

“Shut the fuck up!” Laila threw her hairbrush and it bounced off the hard glass of the window. She hadn’t thought that through very well, luckily it didn’t break. She snapped her head around at a second loud thud and marched back over to the window. Yanking it open, she stuck her head out and peered onto the lawn two stories below. “Did you really just throw a shoe at me?” She asked. She looked up, examining the boy for the first time. He looked about 5’11 and had messy black hair that fell sideways into his green eyes. His arms looked muscular under his black batman t shirt, with a tattoo down his right forearm that read ‘Distression’. What she could see of his jeans were dark. She couldn’t see much below that, seeing as he was cut off where the window pane crossed his legs. 

“If it would get you to shut up I’d throw a baby at you.” He muttered, glaring.

“Who ARE you?” She slowly asked, not realizing until this very moment that he didn’t live there. She knew her neighbor, it was her mother’s best friend since they had been college roommates and had decided to move to Coronado together when they graduated. Rose didn’t have a son.