Laila
The last thing I would've expected was for me to end up spending the entire day with Justin Richards, of all people….in a pool, no less. At first he insisted on playing sprinkle, sprinkle, splash, a version of duck, duck, goose that was played in water. Of course, this didn't really work since there were only two of us. And when Justin said splash, he really meant dunk. My face was burning from all of the times I'd gotten chlorine up my nose, and my neck was kind of achy.
After that fantastic game, we tested each other to see who could perform the most impressive dives off the highest diving board. Justin insisted that because he had longer legs he’d be able to do more acrobatic tricks than me, but I insisted that I’d stay in the air long because I didn’t weigh as much as he did.
That argument lasted about a good fifteen minutes.
Then we got into a fight because Justin insisted that his belly-flop was much more impressive than my front flip once we finally managed to drag ourselves up onto the diving boards after our fighting.
After our disastrous attempts at diving, Justin wanted to play sharks and minnows. He quickly changed his mind after I kicked him in the face when he grabbed at my ankle. I had to grudgingly give him credit since he somehow managed to move through the water with much more ease than I thought a person of his size would.
But where he managed to move quickly and quietly through the water like a predator would when hunting its pray, I made up for in speed. It was safe to say that I was the one who finished a lap around the pool first instead of Justin Richards.
By the time we were practicing our back strokes and doing laps around the pool, the sun had already begun to sink behind the purple-capped mountains in the distance, and the air was growing colder.
"I'm cold,” Justin said blankly as he stared up at the darkening gray sky.
“Then get out,” I said, like it should have been obvious.
It was - obviously.
Justin dunked me for what felt like the twenty-seventh time that day because he apparently thought that would be so fun.
"Would you stop doing that?" I snapped at him, coughing and spluttering after my head broke the surface of the water.
"No.”
I rolled my eyes and huffed out a sigh, swimming towards the edge before heaving myself up out of the pool.
I’d had more than enough of Justin Richards to last me a life time.
"Aw, are we really done in the pool?" Justin whined, still floating about in the pool. “I missed you after all these years and you’re leaving me already?”
"Shut up and play with this," I said, and then chucked a floaty rubber duck at him.
It bounced off his head with a squeak.
"Jerk!" he shouted after me, chucking the floaty rubber duck at my back.
I ignored him and stepped into the house, shutting the back door as I went. I swear the second my right foot touched the fluffy carpet in the living room, Miranda, the Richards' elderly and very British housekeeper appeared out of nowhere before me.
"Gah!" I gasped, banging into the back door.
"I just vacuumed the carpets, Miss Laila," Miranda sighed exasperatedly. "Please try not to get them that wet."
After thrusting a fluffy white towel into my hands, she disappeared just as suddenly as she had appeared. I kind of had a sinking feeling that I wasn't going to be able to get away with much while I was here.
As soon as I'd toweled off as best I could, I skipped my way up the flight of stairs to the guest bedroom I was staying in, dashed to the bathroom, and yanked the shower faucet on. For all I was paying attention, I could have stood underneath the flow of warm, pounding water for hours and I wouldn't have cared. Kim and Laurence Richards were so rich I doubted that using up all of their hot water would really matter in the slightest.
When the flow of water began to make me shiver, I twisted the faucet off and hopped out of the shower, grabbing a towel off of the rack. When I was considerably dried off, I made my way back into the guest bedroom and slipped into the first pair of clothes my hands came in contact with - an old Bob Marley t-shirt and a sort of raggedy pair of jeans. But who cared if I was wearing frumpy clothing?
This was supposed to be my vacation, after all….even if I suspected that I was going to hate every minute of every day that I was here.
I could've slapped myself for feeling like I was supposed to be dressing to impress Justin or something. As if. He should be the one impressing me.
I yanked a brush through my already wavy, tangled hair and pulled it up into a messy twist, then left the bedroom. Where I was going, I had no idea. But since I skipped lunch, I figured I could make up for it by finding something in the kitchen.
Only there was one problem.
Where was the kitchen?
"Looking for the kitchen?"
"Ack!"
I let out a strangled yelp and almost went tumbling down the last flight of stairs and into the marble-tiled foyer.
"You could, like, not sneak up on me, you know," I scowled up at Justin once I'd regained my footing.
Justin snickered while I leaned against the banister, a hand at my throat, trying to catch my breath. He had forgone the pair of boxers and t-shirt he'd been wearing earlier while we were in the pool and was dressed in a pair of jeans and an Alkaline Trio band t-shirt. His hair was wavy and damp, falling across his forehead and into his eyes. No doubt he'd just taken a shower, too.
Hah. I hope he had a freezing cold shower.
"But it's so fun," he said as I continued on my way down the stairs again.
I snorted indignantly and didn't answer. Much to my annoyance, he just followed after me. I glanced back over my shoulder, glaring. He just grinned crookedly in return, and I internally damned him to the fiery pits of Hades. Why did he have to look so gorgeous when he was acting so stupidly childish?
"You're annoying," I told him as I quickened my pace, the better to leave him behind.
"And you have pasty skin."
Thank God I was walking ahead of him, or he would have seen just how much that comment had made me blush.
I conveniently ignored his rather rude statement and pushed my way into the dining room. I highly doubted an entrance to the kitchen would be found in the dining room, but that's where I had seen Miranda pop out of nowhere, right? It was as good a shot as any.
"Hm."
Justin made a thoughtful noise as he leaned up against the wall beside the dining room doors.
"I don't think you're going to find the kitchen in here, sweetheart."
"Bite me," I snapped without thinking.
He flashed his crooked grin again. "Love to."
I rolled my eyes and shoved past him, leaving the dining room. Now I was left standing in the spacious entrance hall with no clue where to go.
"When you swallow your pride, I'd be glad to show you to the kitchen," Justin said smugly from behind me.
I heaved a disgusted sigh, resisting the urge to slap him upside the head.
"All right," I scowled up at him. "Show me where the kitchen is."
Justin smirked. "Say please."
I squeezed my eyes shut and pulled a horrific grimace. "Ugh…please."
"See? That wasn't so bad, was it?" he continued on in that horrifically smug voice.
It'd been horrible. Seriously.
I grumbled incoherently while Justin gestured towards a door off to the side of a narrow hallway. A door that I had previously mistaken for a coat closet. Instead, we were now heading our way down a narrow, spiraling staircase that lead straight into a leveled room that was almost as large as the entire first floor.
Honestly, this place had to be the most impressive thing I had seen in definitely a long while. This house continued to toss out surprise after surprise and more shocking things than I thought possible for one area to contain.
The underground kitchen in the Richards' mansion - for lack of a better word - was a glinting, sparkling display of chrome appliances and cookware. I quickly counted at least three ovens, two double-wide dishwashers, one extra large freezer and two matching refrigerators side by side. And then there was, of course, a walk in pantry at the far end of the kitchen.
"Whoa. This is…this is impressive," I trailed off, glancing around in awe.
"I'm shocked, sweetheart. You actually said something remotely pleasant," Justin said, amused.
"Piss off!"
I started moving about the kitchen, peeking in to the fridges and freezer. The only things that were in there were rare and delectable meats and vegetables and fruits and gross, healthy drinks, etc. When I found nothing at all to my liking in there, I moved on to the walk-in pantry. As the overhead lights came flickering on, I started perusing through row after row of delicious foods.
God only knows how long I took while I examined every nook and cranny of the walk-in pantry. I swear I must have seen at least a hundred different types of food products and artery-clogging snacks I'd never even heard of before. So, tucked in my arms was a little package of Easy Mac, the world's favorite microwavable macaroni and cheese, a yogurt covered granola bar, and a box of apple juice.
Justin was sitting on a bar stool, propped up on his elbows on the spotlessly clean counter. He eyed the food in my hands and his full lips twisted up into a smirk.
"That's not kosher, is it?"
I rolled my eyes and didn't even bother replying.
I carefully removed a bowl from a cabinet beside one of the dishwasher and dumped the noodles into it just like the directions said. Tossing aside the packet of cheese, I filled the bowl two thirds of the way with water and then slid it into the nearest microwave. While I waited for that delectable meal to finish cooking, I ripped off the granola bar wrapper and took a huge bite of the thing, savoring the delicious taste. That four-course breakfast compiled by the Richards family cook felt like three life times ago.
Justin drummed his fingers on the counter in an annoying fashion while I dumped the packet of cheese into the bowl of steaming noodles.
"You can stop that any time," I finally snapped at him.
Justin rolled his eyes and looked thoroughly annoyed, but stopped the tapping, thankfully. A moment later, he leaned over and grabbed my bowl of mac'n'cheese, much to my surprise, and placed it down on the counter in front of an open bar stool.
I arched an eyebrow and pursed my lips. "What's the catch?"
I point blank refused to believe that Justin would ever intentionally do anything nice for me.
Justin scowled, his lower lip protruding in a ridiculous pout. "I'm insulted. I simply foresaw that you were going to burn your hands on that rather hot bowl, and I thought I might as well be as kind as to move it for you. Can't I do something nice for you without there being a catch?"
I let out a silent huff and plopped myself down on the barstool, gripping my fork tightly. I was opting not to answer Justin's question, as much as I hated to admit that he sort of had a point. Who's to say that things had to continue on in the same way as they had before? Wasn't it time for the both of us to grow up, to gain some maturity, and start acting our age?
Granted, I was willing to bet that I hands down had more maturity than Justin ever would, but that wasn't the point, right?
"You look constipated," Justin said abruptly, pulling me from my frantic reveries.
"Thanks," I said, pulling a sour face.
"What are you contemplating as you stare down into your bowl of macaroni with your eyes narrowed in disgust?"
I burst out laughing, nearly spitting out an entire mouthful of apple juice. My eyes were practically streaming with tears as I grappled for a napkin, trying not to look at Justin, who was just sitting there, cool as you please.
"Why do you say things like that?" I hiccupped, once I thought I'd gotten a grip on my composure.
It was Justin's turn to arch an eyebrow. "Care to elaborate?"
I bit my lip and thought about my answer before speaking.
"Hm," I began, a bit hesitant. "You're always saying random things like that, like you're trying to make people laugh all of the time."
Justin stiffened just the slightest, and stared straight up at a spot above the fridge beside us, before he attempted a half-smile.
Whoa. This was a first.
"One of the things I've learned, as cliché as this sounds, is that you've got to live each moment like it's your last. You wouldn't want to die without having one last laugh or some happy moment, would you?"
And suddenly, Justin Richards seemed so much more older than sixteen. So much more wise, in a way. As I felt my face flush maroon, I couldn't help but wonder what on Earth had happened to him in these past eight years to make him say something like that.
"No," I said slowly. "I guess not."
The second time around, his smile seemed a little more genuine.
"Right.”
“When did you get so sentimental, Richards?” I asked, trying to return things to normal.
Justin rolled his eyes, giving me a withering look. “Hurry up eating, sweetheart. I want to watch Bring It On soon."
I shot an annoyed look in Justin’s direction, returning my attention to my dinner.
Whoever this young…man was sitting in front of me was somebody plainly different than what I remembered. Granted, it had been eight years since we had last seen each other, but he wasn’t what I expected at all.
Earlier when we’d been outside in the pool, there was this infinitesimal moment where I could have sworn that Justin had been looking at me with this expression that was something different than loathing or fascinated disgust.
I wasn’t so sure if I was prepared for everything that I was going to see, the more I got to know this new Justin Richards.
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I love Justin and Laila's characters. They're so much fun to write. Just sayin'.