Layla's P.O.V.
I hear footsteps approaching my door while I stay under my covers, hiding from the world and trying not to face reality. A gentle knock on my door makes itself barely audible under my pile of blankets. I don't make an effort to move. I hurt too much. Experiencing a heartbreaking disaster is so much worse than in movies. It's not just your heart that hurts, it's your entire body. The pain spreads all the way to your toes and the worst thing is that there's no cure, so you just have to lay there and suffer, trying to replay all of the memories that that person gave you, which only makes you hurt worse. Your head aches all the time, demanding to be felt while you continue to lay there. There's nothing worse or more cruel in this world than heartache. Believe me.
My mom tries once again knocking, and then finally let's herself in, softly shutting the door behind her. It makes me want to cry all over again because I know why she's coming in. To "talk about it." I don't want to talk about it though. She's gonna come in here and try to push me out of bed and try to force me to go see Jordan because I only have a week left with him. 6 days actually. It's not my fault they made the decision. He doesn't have to go, it's not like his parents are making him. He could live with his grandparents or his uncle, but he won't. Stubborn Jordan, as always. It's breaking me inside, really.
"Honey," my mother says as she slips her hand into my sanctuary of sheets and blankets, pulling them off of me. "please at least eat something. You've been laying there for hours, and I.. I think you should at least make an effort to see Jordan. He's upset about it, too."
A stray beam of sunlight shines through the window and hits my eyes. I move my arm to shield myself. "No." I say, situating to turn around, but she grips my arm and rolls me back in her direction.
"I'm sorry you're sad Layla, but I'm not giving you a choice. Get up and get ready. I'm taking you. If you let him leave without at least telling him goodbye, you'll never forgive yourself and he won't forgive you either. You might never see each other again." She let's go of my arm and leaves the room, leaving me to get ready. She's right. I could possibly never see my best friend again. I need to see him one last time.
I jump in the shower and rinse my body with peppermint body wash and my hair with coconut lime shampoo and conditioner. I grab a towel, dry off and brush my teeth twice. I comb through my hair, ripping through it quickly, wanting to see Jordan fast so I can get it over with. I exit the bathroom, shaking as the cold tile hits my bare feet. Entering my closet, I throw on a pair of leggings, my white high top converse, and a black tank top with "BEACH HAIR" in bold, white lettering on the front. I walk back to the bathroom and blow dry my chocolate brown hair in record breaking time, straightening it as well.
I grab my purse and take my phone off of the charger, which I haven't checked in 4 days, and walk out of my bedroom, shutting the door and switching the lights off. Letting a small grin appear on my face as I trot down the stairs, I attempt to scroll through my 246 text messages and no telling how many Social media notifications. I get to the bottom of the staircase, only to see my mom waiting there, looking for her keys.
"Aha, here they are!" She says loudly as she jingles the keys back and forth victoriously in my face. I laugh lightly, causing her to smile. "Let's go." She says.
We walk out the front door and head for the car, getting in. Mom starts the engine and I get butterflies in my stomach. I try my best to push them down, but it doesn't work well. Mom starts down the road and we drive in silence, neither one of us daring to speak. I lean my head on the back of the chair, staring out the window at the beautiful, tall palm trees. They almost look like fingers jutting out from a jaggedly cut hand, as if they're grabbing at the sky.
We make a sharp left turn onto Jordan's road, and my head starts to hurt again as I begin to ache all over. She slows down and pulls into his driveway. I start to shake my head, breathing heavy. "Mom, no. I can't. I can't, I can't, no, mom please don't make me. No." My eyes well up and tears threaten to fall. My voice shakes as I tell her, "I can't do this."
"Okay, okay. I won't make you." My mom pats my hand reassuringly and puts the car in gear, turning the wheel. I sigh in relief and realize I did it too soon. That's when I see Jordan Lake, opening his front door.
"Stop." She slams the breaks and I open my car door.
"I'll let you handle this. Pick you up at 10:00." I nod. "Good luck baby, I love you." She looks me in my eyes as I step out of the car, Jordan advancing towards us.
"I love you too mom. See you later." I shut my door and she pulls out of the driveway, driving away and eventually turning out of sight.
I look back in Jordan's direction. He's closer, almost to me. He's smiling. Disgust fills me. The nervousness and butterflies I had felt are gone. They're replaced by anger and hate, two awful emotions. I stand there, not moving. I hate him.
I run the few steps towards him and push him as hard as I can, taking away the anger, the hate, the disgust. He stumbles a little, but regains his balance. He steps closer and tries to touch my arm, but I flinch away, angry that he's even trying to get near me. A confused look takes over his face, but I don't care. I look up at him, so sad and furious that I can barely stand. He's taller than me by at least 3 or 4 inches, even though we're both 14.
He tries to touch my cheek this time, and I let him, but I stay still. His face saddens, and it makes me feel better that he can at least feel a tiny morsel of what I'm feeling. I push him again, harder. He trips over his feet this time, hitting the ground, but immediately stands back up again, a little angry with me this time.
"What's your problem Lay!" He yells. When he says my nickname he gave me when we were 3, my heart breaks a little more, almost causing me to fall over as another wave of sadness strikes hard.
"Don't call me Lay." I say trying to keep my voice strong, but it shakes a little, and he notices.
"What's wro-" he begins, but i cut him off.
"Don't act like you care what's wrong Jordan. Please, don't do that." I almost yell, but I try to remain calm.
"At least come inside before someone calls the cops. Mom and dad are gone, they won't be back 'til tonight. Let's go to the treehouse." He says, smirking. I want to slap his face and wipe it off.
I don't answer, just push past him and head for the backyard. I catch his scent of cologne and I love it, but continue walking and pretending as if I don't care. I reach my destination under a huge palm tree with a big house thing, like a shed, under it. It's our "treehouse" we played in as kids. I step inside, not having to slouch or anything, and he's right behind me. I plop into a bean bag chair and my face crumples. I put my face in my hands and my breathing becomes ragged. It hurts. Everything. I hate this feeling. Unhappiness. I love being happy. And now I can't. It's his fault, he's horrible.
A single tear falls as I look up at Jordan. He's sitting in the other bean bag chair directly in front of me. He leans down and hugs me. I jump from his touch and scoot back farther. That hurt him, I can tell.
"Lay.. Remember how we loved this place?" He says, looking around. "It was our little hide out, just me and my favorite girl." He looks at me when he says this, and I smile. It's a sad smile.
"You're leaving. It'll never be that way again." I say, my smile disappearing.
"Don't say that, you know I'll call you. We're just moving to California, and I'll call you every day." He says, looking down.
"I live in Florida Jordan. Get real. You'll forget about me." I close my eyes. "I may be your best friend now, but when you get on that plane, we're done. We won't..." Another tear, and another, and another. "We're done, Jordan." Tear after tear, they're a waterfall now.
"Please, Layla stop. We've always been a little more than best friends. I don't care if I live in Florida or California or Texas or New York."
He stops and grabs my hand. I let him. He gazes around with his bright blue orbs until they land on my emerald green ones. They stay there, locked on the other, as if our eyes have minds of their own. As if they're mesmerized with the other person's eyes, and they could almost never stop.
"You'll always be my favorite girl."
He locks our hands, and our eyes continue to be infatuated with the other set. Green and blue go well together in my opinion. He pulls me to his bean bag and I sit beside him, our eyes never leaving the other's. At this moment, it doesn't matter the pain he's caused me, it only matters that we're here now.
His free hand gently pushes my head onto his chest and he plays with my hair, the other hand drawing circles on mine. I inhale the scent of his cologne, and I could just stay here forever. Like we could keep our love for each other in a photograph, saving it for our entire lives.
"Jordan?" I ask, looking up at him innocently, my heart literally torn in two.
"Yea Lay?" I smile once again as he looks at me so sweetly. I'll never see his eyes again, the kind you could get lost in. They're like a sea of blue and no matter how much water there is, looking into them, I could never be bored.
"Please come back for me."
The emotion in his eyes flicker from sadness to determination as he speaks.
"You could never get rid of me."