Justin
It was a sad habit of mine that made me sneak into Laila's room the next morning. I'll admit that I, Justin Richards, was really curious and maybe even a little desperate to know a bit more about my rival. But I didn't feel too guilty, because Jeanine had asked me to wake up Laila, anyways. I just didn't mention that I was going to go snooping around a little bit. Clearly that was a mistake on Jeanine’s part.
There were five guest bedrooms on the second floor, and only two of those doors were left shut, so I chose to go to the room where I couldn’t hear the sounds of a running shower coming from. Cracking open the door slowly, I peeked inside. Laila was sprawled out on the four-poster bed, halfway underneath the scarlet sheets. I quickly caught sight of a duffle bag tossed on a top of golden easy chair a few feet away by the window. Flipping open the top, I saw your typical girl clothes. Jeans, shorts, a pair of gray sandals, blouses, a few soccer jerseys, even band t-shirts. I unfolded a few of the band t-shirts and was impressed. Laila didn't have bad taste in music.
Of course, being Laila, there were no skirts or skimpy tops in the suitcase. She wasn't like any of the girls I knew, that was for sure. Creeping over towards the bed, I caught sight of a copy of the latest Harry Potter novel lying open on the floor. I should’ve known. This room happened to be decorated in Gryffindor colors.
This was all typical Laila, of course.
Okay, so there really was no excuse for what I did next. The opportunity was there, and I was known to act impulsively. Plus, I really wanted to see how Laila would react. So I reached over and covered her mouth with one of my hands and pinched her nose.
Her sea-blue eyes shot open instantly and without warning, she swung out an arm and slammed a fist into my ribs. I almost fell over backwards on my ass from the impact of her punch. I had not been expecting that in a million years. Laila had a mean right hook.
"Jesus," I spat out, massaging my ribs. "Remind me never to come across you in a dark alley, Laila."
Laila blinked up at me through half-closed lids before she sat up.
"Mind telling me what you're doing in here?" she asked groggily.
"You know, your hair looks like a rat's nest, but I kind of like it," I said conversationally, ignoring her question.
Her hands flew to her hair, but then she let her hands drop a moment later, her eyes narrowing into slits.
"What do you want, Justin?" she demanded, kicking back the blankets and hopping to her feet.
Laila might have been trying to make me feel uncomfortable, but it really wasn't working. Sure, her glare was hard and steely, but she was so short it hardly made a difference. The top of her head barely reached my shoulders.
"Breakfast," I said.
She rolled her eyes and tugged her hair up into a sloppy bun. I turned to leave the room, but she hesitantly called out, "Justin?"
I glanced over my shoulder curiously. "Yes?"
"How tall are you?"
I cracked a grin. "6'4''."
"Freak," she muttered under her breath.
"Imp," I said loud enough for her to hear me.
Laila made a disgusted noise and stomped past me towards the door, shoving me out of the way. Immature, much?
"So, hey," I called after her, quickening my pace. "I figure we can spend all of today together, painting each other's nails and taking bubble baths. I'll even watch Bring It On with you, if you're nice."
"You must be dreaming, Richards," Laila said scathingly, not turning around.
"Must be," I said, shrugging, "'cause there's no way a girl as hot as you exist in real life."
"Shut up!"
"I thought girls like flattery."
“You’re not being flattering. You’re being downright stupid, Richards.”
"I guess you're not a girl, then, Hayes," I said without thinking.
I mean, that’s what she was implying, right?
Laila whipped around and gave me a withering look, hand on hips. "Want me to prove it?"
I purposely dragged my eyes up and down her body, stalling at a few choice places long enough to make her blush a furious red. "By all means.”
She stomped off again without saying anything.
Antagonizing this teenage Laila was going to make my day anytime. I wondered how long I could keep up the act before she finally cracked. To say I was looking forward to that day was putting it lightly.
I padded my way down the stairs after her and skidded into the dining room at the same time she did. Our chef, Pierre, really had outdone himself this morning. Stacks of steaming buttermilk and blueberry pancakes were piled onto the table, next to warm plates of strawberry French toast, lemon yogurt parfaits, pumpkin waffles, and even peach and raspberry-chocolate crepes. Jugs of orange juice, raspberry lemonade, milk, and regular and decaf coffee were placed in the available spaces left.
"Did your mom make all of this?" Laila asked, looking at the table with wide eyes.
I took one look at her and burst out laughing.
"Does my mom look like the type of woman that would slave away in the kitchen?" I asked her once I'd caught my breath.
"No?"
She said it more like a question than a statement.
"You got that right."
I pulled out a chair, sat down, and began piling blueberry pancakes, crispy bacon, scrambled eggs, and pumpkin waffles onto the plate in front of me. Then I grabbed a jug of milk and poured a glassful.
Laila watched me with a disgusted expression.
"What?" I demanded through a mouthful of eggs and bacon.
Smooth, Justin.
"Where's my mom?" Laila asked, turning to my mom at the end of the table, totally ignoring me.
Brat.
"In the shower, I think," Mom said absentmindedly.
I wasn't sure if she realized just how much coffee she was drinking, or that it wasn't decaf. I swallowed my food and stared concernedly at her.
"Mom, you've got that constipated look on your face. What's up?" I said slowly.
Mom pursed her lips and gave me an exasperated look. "Nothing."
"Liar," I mumbled into my glass of milk.
"Your mother and I are planning on taking Jeanine to my offices today and then out to dinner with a few of my colleagues and Kim’s author friends," Dad said abruptly, striding into the dining room, fixing the black tie around his neck.
Trust Dad to always disobey Mom.
"Oh," Laila and I said in unison.
"Of course, you're welcome to come with us, Laila," Mom added quickly, looking worried.
Laila stared down at her plate, eyebrows pinched together. Then, taking a deep breath, she looked back up at Mom and Dad and said, "No, thanks, I think I'd rather stay here."
Even my jaw dropped at her words. Oh, she was brave. She was going to willingly choose to be in this gigantic house alone with me? This was rich.
"Are you sure?" Mom and Dad asked in shocked voices.
"Yeah," Laila said reassuringly, purposely avoiding my eye.
Mom and Dad embarked on a stare-down, which made me think that they were telepathically discussing what had just occurred. It didn't look like they were going to be saying anything aloud for quite some time. So I returned my attention to eating.
Just as I was nearly finished with my entire plate of food, Jeanine waltzed into the dining room, her light brown hair still damp.
If you looked at Laila and Jeanine side by side, the first assumption one would get is that they weren't related. Jeanine was even shorter than her daughter and had straight brown hair, dark hazel eyes, and dressed somewhat eccentrically sometimes, probably because she was an artist. The only thing that mother and daughter had in common was the upturned, aristocratic facial features, though Laila was much paler than Jeanine.
"Morning, all," Jeanine said cheerily, kissing Laila's head as she dropped into a seat beside her.
"Jeanine," Mom began slowly. "Laila says she'd like to stay here today while we go out."
Jeanine's jaw dropped and instead of turning to look at Laila, her eyes whipped to me. Was there some sort of accusatory look there?
"Really?" Jeanine said.
"Really, really," Dad said, sipping his steaming coffee.
"Are you sure about that?" Jeanine continued, looking at Laila.
A sickeningly sweet smirk spread across Laila's face and she looked at me, kind of like a ditzy blonde would. "Oh, Justin's going to behave himself. We're going to watch Bring It On, anyways, right?"
I fought back a grin. This girl could put on an act for people considerably well.
"Totally," I replied in a breathy, girlish voice as I leaned back in my chair.
"If you so much as breathe the wrong way, I swear you're going to regret it," Mom said seriously, pointing a finger at me.
"Oh ye of little faith," I quipped happily. "You can relax, mommy dearest. I'll behave."
"You know we don't believe you," Dad said flatly. He turned to Laila and said, "If he tries anything, we give you full permission to kick him or something."
"Good to know," Laila said, her smirk widening.
I rolled my eyes. What could this girly-girl do to hurt me? Hit me with a nail file?
Mom and Dad eyed me shrewdly the rest of breakfast and seemed kind of distracted while they chatted with Jeanine. After I'd eaten considerable helpings of nearly everything, I pushed back from the table at the same time Laila did. Our eyes locked and we both narrowed our eyes. It was kind of like we were both saying game on, which was definitely fitting.
"See you, 'rents," I said to Mom and Dad, tipping two fingers in salute.
"Behave yourself!" Mom reminded me sharply.
"I promise I will!" I tried to say in what I hoped was a convincing tone.
They didn't buy it, of course.
"We're having Miranda stay while we're gone, so don't try anything funny. I expect we'll be back late, so whenever you're both hungry, just rummage around in the pantry and I’m sure you’ll find something suitable. Emma's not going to be back till tomorrow, she's staying at the Miller's house," Mom said in a business-like tone.
"Right," I said, bored.
Laila said goodbye to Jeanine, mumbling something to her that seemed to placate her, and then fell into step beside me as we both left the dining room.
"I feel so special," I told her giddily. "You actually want to stay here with me today."
"Hardly," she snorted. "I'd rather stay here than be bored out of my mind with them."
"I don't buy it," I continued, just to yank her chain. "I think you actually want to spend time with me."
"Not really," she replied briskly.
"Nice try, Hayes," I said. "I'd believe you if you weren't blushing."
Laila gave me a disgusted look again before she dashed up the stairs, and the sound of a door slamming quietly echoed through the near silent house.
I made my way up the stairs, resisting the urge to go barge into Laila's room and annoy the hell out of her, and slammed the door shut to my own room behind me.
My room was shaped weirdly, kind of like a square, except with an odd little nook in the side. The bed was huge and the sheets were messy, stray pieces of clothes hung out of the dresser, and pages of music littered the floor and the closet.
When I flipped onto my bed, I landed on something hard, right under my shoulder. I squirmed around and grabbed at it. It was my cell phone, and it was blinking at me, showing that I had two missed calls. They were both from my best friend, Nick Petrolas.
I punched in his number and leaned back against the pillows.
"Yo," Nick answered on the second ring.
"What's up?" I asked conversationally.
"So, hey, that girl's there, right?"
I fought back a laugh. "Yeah, she's here."
Nick made an excited sort of gasp. "What's she like?"
I made a noncommittal sound, like there wasn't really much to report there.
"She's hot as hell, huh?"
"Yep."
It was Nick that ended up bursting out laughing.
"Do I get to meet her?"
"Yeah, about that…." I trailed off awkwardly.
"What?" he demanded instantly.
"I kind of can't go to your party next Thursday unless I bring Laila with me."
The last thing I was expecting Nick to let out an excited snort of a noise again.
"That works perfectly."
"You better gird your loins, man, because she'll be having you banging your head against a wall in two minutes," I warned him.
"Nah, I think I'll take my chances," Nick said happily.
"Be careful."
We chatted amiably about this and that, his party next week, and the 4th of July bash going down at my house, what girls would be coming and the latest high school scandals. I was surprised to see that we'd been talking for nearly an hour and a half when we signed off and hung up.
I was thinking about taking a shower or going down to the basement to play the PS3 or something, but a loud splash from outside stopped me in my tracks. I stumbled my way over to the bay windows and peered outside. Laila's head broke the surface of the gigantic pool in the backyard. Had she just jumped off the top diving board?
"Oh, I've gotta see this," I muttered, and dashed from the bedroom.
A minute later, I was whipping open the back door and stepping out on to the back porch.
"What are you doing?" I asked Laila, leaning down towards her by the pool side.
She glared up at me, squinting in the watery sunlight.
"Swimming."
"You swim, huh?"
"Yeah."
I sat on the concrete ground beside the pool and dipped my feet into the chill water as I watched her swim. However, the fact that she was wearing a pair of shorts and a bathing suit top decorated with polka dots that left little to the imagination wasn’t particularly helpful.
I tried to focus on Laila’s swimming instead and had to admit that she had a pretty good back stroke going on. But everything about her movements was tense and jerky and her muscles were tightly coiled as she swam.
"You need to learn how to relax," I addressed her without thinking.
She stopped swimming, and just floated, glaring over at me. It wasn’t too particularly bright outside, so it was easy to see the sour expression on her face.
"I know how to relax," Laila finally said in a sullen manner.
I arched an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"
"Of course I know how to relax," she scoffed.
"Prove it, sweetheart."
Laila fell silent, biting her lower lip, pondering what to say.
"I read," she answered.
"So do I, when I have to," I said with a snort. "That's hardly the greatest relaxation method in the world. Tell me something else."
Laila didn't answer for a few moments, and I doubted she would.
"Don't you ever just go out with your friends and have fun?" I asked her curiously, trying to get her to keep talking.
"I have friends, if that's what you're getting at," Laila said, frowning.
"Of course I know you have friends," I said quickly, "but don't you just let things go and forget things for a while?"
A slow smile broke out on her face after a moment and admittedly, my nerves started twisting into knots as she swam her way over to me.
"Say, Justin?” she said in a pleasant enough voice.
“Yes,” I responded as calmly as I could.
I needed to get a grip.
“Do you want to know what I do to relax?”
I should have known that Laila was up to something, given our past as pranksters, but I honestly wanted to know what she was going to say.
"What?"
Before I could even have time to think properly, Laila gripped my forearm and yanked me into the pool with a surprising burst of strength I didn’t even know she had.
Thank God I was wearing a pair of old checkered boxer and a black t-shirt, otherwise I would’ve had a bit trouble swimming. The water was freezing as I kicked my way to the surface and I immediately started gasping once fresh air hit my lungs. Laila was leaning against the side of the pool, arms crossed, looking triumphant as she watched my embarrassing coughing fit with a smug smirk.
"Why'd you do that?" I demanded, a scowl forming on my face.
"Watching you flail around like that makes me relaxed," she replied in a not too serious voice, her eyebrows raised.
"I really don't like you," I said, scowling.
Call it childish, but that was the only response I managed to fire back with.
"Yeah, yeah, same here," she replied breezily, waving an airy hand.
I swam my way over to her on an impulse and braced myself on either side of her, gripping the edge of the pool.
"You're going to regret that," I told her, grinning crookedly as she flushed bright red at our proximity.
“I am?" she said slowly, looking unconvinced and embarrassed at the same time.
"Yeah."
My grin widened when I heard her breath hitch in her throat.
"How?"
"Like this."
I wrapped a hand around Laila's neck and dunked her.
I swam away from her while she coughed and spluttered as she righted herself, looking furious.
"That's not funny," Laila said, glaring at me.
“No more than you throwing me into the pool,” I replied sarcastically.
“Do I sense a bit of a challenge in your voice, Richards?” Laila demanded, her lips pursed in a disapproving line.
I thought about her question as I leaned up against the side of the pool, pushing a strand of my sopping wet hair out of my eyes.
“Well, I haven’t got anything better to do,” I answered after a moment. “So you might as well make this a challenge worth my time, sweetheart.”
She stared indignantly at me at my words and the look in her sea-blue eyes definitely said that a challenge was in the making.
“Oh, it’s so on, Richards.”
“Bring it, Hayes.”
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It'd be really awesome if anybody could just simply give feedback! I'm still not even sure if I should continue on posting chapters for this project.
Feedback and comments are always greatly appreciated! Don't be afraid to tell me what you think!
So, uhm....yay or nay?