This is an AU (Alternate Universe) where Layla and Warren never interacted before the dance. Everything else is normal. Yes, it screws up the movie plot, but just bear with me please ;) Rated M for lemony chapters and some intense and coarse language.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this shit. That will be all.

Layla's POV

It took me two days. Just two days after the dance to realize what a little bitch Will was. He had made fun of my tofu and I punched him lightly in the arm, and I swear I saw an actual tear. He had been overly protective and even ventured so far as to call me his "property". And I had enough. The next day before school, I broke it off, relying on my argument of "we-have-purely-platonic-feelings-and-I-can't-kiss-a-guy-that-I-saw-naked-when-I-was-four."

Right after I saw the look of desperation on his face, I turned and dashed through the school to the small field in the back that was used for sports and what-not. On the left side there was a small cluster of about 10 huge trees that were calling out to me.

I ran under the trees and took a seat under a particularly large maple. And for some reason, I started crying. As soon as the first drop hit my chest, I knew what I was crying about. Magenta's parents moved her to another super/sidekick school in Rhode Island. My sister had recently left for college in London. My mom was working so many hours at the veterinary practice. My dad had left a week ago with his masseuse. And I had just pushed away the last person I thought I knew.

I was all alone.

The soft tears turned into huge wracking, snotty sobs and I pulled my knees to my chest. The maple's lowest branch curved and curled around me, making a protective barrier of foliage. I fell to my side and curled into the fetal position. That's when I saw him through the trees.

Warren Peace.

He was sitting against a weeping willow, stuffing a book in his messenger bag. He was wearing dirty combat boots and the streak of red in his slightly-longer-than-normal hair gleamed. His leather jacket looked deliciously soft.

And he was staring right at me. I curled in on myself even more, but I couldn't stop looking in his dark eyes. He stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder and left my gaze, fluidly walking away.

It was only when he had left my sight that I noticed something where he had been sitting. I was overcome by curiosity and stood up, dusting the grass off myself as the maple branch weaved back into position. I walked over and picked up the small package of tissues and smiled. I looked down again and examined the ripped corner of notebook paper. On it read:

We should hang out.

Paper Lantern- from 5:30 p.m. to 9 p.m. (Monday-Friday) from 8 p.m. to closing (Saturday)

He left his address and number under that. A creeping blush warmed my cheeks as I kept staring at the note. Did he know that I had broken up with Will? And why me? We were total polar opposites. He was fire. I was earth. We just couldn't coexist in nature. And believe me, I knew.

But still… The nagging voice in the back of my head alerted me of the raw curiosity. The mystery; the forbidden relationship; the sheer possibility. I kept thinking about him, his hair, his eyes, his raw and rare smiles and laughs. And it dawned on me. I wanted to try this out. I wanted to meet him. I wanted to talk to him and know him. And most of all, I wanted to know how he felt about me.

That night around seven, I walked into Paper Lantern. A short man led me to a booth and handed me a menu. I settled into my seat and glanced around the small restaurant. My eyes gleamed and focused on the busboy clearing dishes from a table a few feet away. He sensed my eyes and looked over. He didn't smile, but I saw his eyes flash. He grabbed the dirty dishes and walked to the kitchen doors. He returned a moment later and gracefully swung into his seat across from me.

"Hi," I said nervously. "So. I guess you saw me this morning." He nodded. "Did you hear? About Will and me?"

He removed his gaze from the wood laminate and stared into my eyes. "Ya, I heard. I'm so proud you finally found out what a pussy he is." I gasped and leaned back in my seat. I had never heard someone use such foul words so easily. His eyes softened minutely. "Sorry bout the language, but if you want to hang out anymore, you'll need to get used to it." I gasped again, partly because he actually apologized to me, and partly because he wanted to do this again.

"Well why do you think Will is a-a, well you know…," I stuttered out before his dark chuckle cut me off.

"A pussy? I think Will is a pussy because he never could hold his own. He never could take a punch. And he never knew who he had in front of him until she was gone." I blushed and looked down. I heard him let out a miniscule "whoa". I looked through my hair at him, gazing in awe at the vase on the table. The blooming rose grew from a pearly white to a pink, and then to a deep red as my cheeks turned the color of a tomato. I really hated that. He looked at me and smiled. Yes, an actual SMILE. He asked his boss if he could duck out a few minutes early and sit with me. After Warren made a promise to make up the time, his boss easily agreed. He came back to the booth in his street clothes and we just started to get to know each other.

We talked about how it felt to be alone, what with my family and his father. I learned his favorite color was red. He already knew my favorite color was green. We discussed how hard it was to deal with an element-based power. He told me about his mother and I told him about mine. His story was better. We talked and talked and he told me he would give me a ride home. We walked outside and he asked where I lived. I told him and he nodded.

Then he motioned for me to get on the back of a motorcycle he had already started up.

"A motorcycle? You have got to be kidding me!"

"C'mon Layla, are you already losing your rebellious streak? You freed yourself from Stronghold. How can this be any different?" He smiled mischievously and I melted in his fiery gaze.

I bit my lower lip, and after a moment, I snapped on the helmet and swung my leg over.

"You might wanna hold on to me," he said as he motioned to my hands hanging at my sides. Apparently I seemed incompetent, so he reached back and secured my arms around his waist.

Damn, he was hot.

No, like he was literally hot. Pyros run a higher temperature than humans. I hooked my fingers together and I could feel the chiseled muscles of his lower abs. Wow, he was really ripped. He revved the engine and I could feel the rumble deep in my belly. We shot forward and I squeezed my arms tighter, trying desperately to not fall off. He chuckled and I smiled against his leather jacket. I was right. It was deliciously soft.

We arrived at my house in less than five minutes. He turned off the motorcycle and we both got off. I unclipped the helmet and handed it to him, my cheeks flushed. He looked over my shoulder and a minute crinkling of his eyebrows told me something was wrong.

He looked at me. "Why are there no lights on?"

I sighed and told him that no one was usually home, and most nights I came home to an empty house. He looked me in the eye once more and quickly gave me a kiss on the cheek before he slipped on his helmet and swiftly pulled away from the curb. I felt that weird sensation deep in my body again and I slowly walked through my front door with a huge smile on my face.

I couldn't wait to see Warren Peace again.

I think I was falling for him.