Jesse drove pretty fast, so we made it to the paintball place by four. The place was huge. There was the front office where you paid for balls, guns, gear, etc., the locker rooms where you put your stuff away and changed, the showers in the back in case you get too much paint on you, the gear room where you chose what you wanted, and the field itself. It was massive. About the size of a football field, but full of different obstacles and things to hide behind.

Even if I wasn't an extremely physical guy, I was excited.

I brought plenty of money because I wasn't sure how much everything would be, so I was covered when we got all the gear without using about half the money I brought. We picked up our armor and went back in the locker room to change and put our stuff away.

When we were all ready we stepped onto the field and war began.

It lasted about an hour and a half and I actually fared better than I thought I would. I didn't win, but I did well. We went back to the locker room and started changing, when I realized my crazy hair was too pink to go back into public without showering. Luke and Jesse agreed to go get the car and scan restaurants for dinner while I showered. They'd come back in thirty minutes.

I grabbed the backpack I had brought with my change of clothes and walked to the showers. I stripped and stepped in the tiny shower. It took forever to get the paint out. I'm sure I had an afro by the time I stepped out. I was the only one in there when I pulled a towel from the shelf, and I was thankful for that because I had never been comfortable being naked around a bunch of naked guys. I chuckled to myself and wrapped the towel around my waist. All of a sudden I heard a noise. It shouldn't have, there were tons of other guys that came through here, but it made me tense. It sounded like the shuffling of boots. I straightened up; so someone else was coming. So what? But something seemed wrong.

The man stepped from behind the corner. His posture alerted me that he meant no well, if his outfit didn't do the trick. He was dressed in black jeans, a black t-shirt, and a dark, dirty trench coat, along with work boots. That was not typical California attire. Along with this, he was grimy all over, hunched in a defensive position, and wielding a rusty knife.

And I was staring meekly back in nothing but a fluffy white towel.

He lurched forward, knife heading at me first, and I ducked. I leapt to the side when he came tumbling into the wall where I was standing. He jerked to the side where I was squatting and I backed up as quickly as my wet body and the loose towel would let me.

"I'll give you my money! What do you want?!" I shouted, trying to get through to him. But he didn't care. I scrambled to my feet as he marched toward me knife getting dangerously close to my chest. My foot slipped on the rubber floor mat and I fell down, towel falling open leaving me on my hands and knees. The man was over top of me now, I could see his shadow above me on the ground, and I just waited for the blow.

But it never came.

I looked up very slowly to a scene I in no way understood.

Layla was standing a foot from the man, eyes locked with his. I was in between them, still wet with shower water and sweat with wearing nothing but a towel draped over my back. As slow as I could, I pushed from my hands and knees to a squatting position, rewrapping the towel around me. Slowly, painfully slowly I rose to standing, looking at what was happening. Their eyes were locked together, Layla concentrating for all she was worth and the man under a trance, ready to do anything she wanted. She kept her eyes connected with the man's, but turned her chin to me.

"Get your stuff and go out to my car." She said quietly. I didn't ask a question. Normally I wouldn't leave a girl in a men's locker room with a crazed homeless man with a knife, but this was not a normal situation and Layla was not a normal girl. I knew she could take care of herself and I knew everything would turn out better if I got out of there and let her handle him by herself. I nodded and slowly walked out of the room.

I changed into my clothes faster than I ever had in my life and practically ran to the parking lot. I spotted her car quickly and jogged over to it. I took a deep breath and let it out before everything hit me.

I was leaning over her car with my head down when I felt her beside me. I looked under my arm at her. She hesitated, then rubbed her hand up and down my back. I closed my eyes and let out another deep breath. I straightened up and tried to steady myself. I looked down at her and, to my great surprise she wrapped her arms around me and put her head to my chest. I forgot trying to steady myself and pulled her closer to me. I rested my head on hers and inhaled that wonderful scent. I had too many questions to ask right then, I just followed her instructions and climbed into the passenger seat.

Slouching down in my seat, I lay my forehead against the window. I waited for her to speak first.

"There's a lot of crazy people around Los Angeles," she said quietly, but very obviously angry.

"I see. Thank you. For whatever you did," I responded at almost a whisper.

"You tired of me walking in and rescuing you when you're close to naked?" she said, trying to lighten the mood and distract herself.

"I wish it was like that," was all I could say.

"Are you all right? I didn't get there too late did I?" we still weren't looking at each other, but the anger was plain in her voice.

"I'm fine. You saved me. Again," I responded begrudgingly.

"Do you have a problem with me helping you? Would you rather be dead now? Twice over?" I knew she wasn't mad at me, she was mad at the man, but it was still annoying.

"No, Layla. Thank you. Twice over. It's just incredibly irritating not knowing what you are or why you keep helping me. How you knew where I was and what was happening. How you're the man in any situation involving us," it felt good being honest.

"Don't beat yourself up, you're definitely a man. I'm just… something else. Something else with a temper that really isn't wise," more cryptic remarks.

"I don't doubt that there's a lot you could do. I just wish you thought you could be honest with me," to my absolute horror and as even more illustration of the point I made earlier, I started to tear up.

"Damnit, Layla! What the hell are you and why don't you trust me? I'm not an idiot! I know you're not like me! And you know I deserve to have the truth!" I was yelling now, yelling in her face as she stared at the road. Her blue eyes filled up, but not with normal tears. A blue almost as bright as her eyes started leaking down her perfect face.

"You don't know how hard this is for me," still in that quiet, controlled voice.

"No! I don't know! So tell me! Please! If I'm not trustworthy enough then stop here. Let me out. If you're not going to talk to me we might as well end whatever the hell this is right now." Now I was being a man. Now I was controlling the relationship. And now I was making Layla cry. Cry thick blue tears.

"I'll tell you," her eyes flickered shut, then open again. "I'll tell you tonight. Just shhh, for now just shh," she spoke like a tired old woman. I slumped back into my seat and put my head back against the window.

We pulled up to a Chinese restaurant. I heard Layla's door open. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm taking you to dinner," She tried to smile at me, but the blue tint where she wiped the tears away ruined it. She stepped out of the car and pushed the door shut. I quickly got out to meet her on the sidewalk. She handed me her cell phone.

"Call your friends. I don't want to run into them right now." She said in a monotone. I called and told Jesse everything was okay and I had a ride home. He was fine with it and we hung up quickly.

"I'm not really hungry," I told Layla.

"You should eat something." Her voice was authoritative and even though I felt like she was being the man again, I complied. I walked ahead of her and opened the door. She shook her head with a grin and went through.

The restaurant wasn't crowded. Our host was male, and I had to stop myself from saying something when he glanced over Layla. He smiled smugly at her when he said "Table for two?" and I really would have liked to punch him. Instead I cleared my throat, draped my arm over her shoulder and nodded. He got the message.

"Thanks, Mr. Macho. Was that necessary?" she whispered to me.

"With the way he was looking at you, yes, very much so." I replied just as quietly. Her skin that I was touching was warmer than normal body temperature, but I couldn't tell what that meant.

"Can we get a booth?" she said sweetly to the host, and he nodded happily. He lead us to a back corner where he put two menus down and asked what drinks we'd like.

"None, thanks," Layla said, glancing at the menu, uninterested.

"A Sprite please." I answered.

When the host left, I said "Do you do that often?"

"Do what?"

"Flash that cute smile and get whatever you want," I responded, more amused than annoyed. She smiled a natural smile, one that nearly took my breath away.

"Does it work on you?" she said coyly.

"Every time," I admitted reluctantly.

The male server showed up with my drink and asked Layla, and only Layla, what she wanted to eat. Layla looked at me expectantly.

"Oh. Um. I'll have the… chicken lo mein?" I responded. With one last desperate look at Layla he disappeared.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. Really. The shock has worn off. Now I'm just tired," I answered lamely.

"You don't feel dizzy? Like you're going to be sick?" she was really worried.

"Nope. Not at all." I said confidently.

She examined me, then shook her head. "I'll still feel better once you've had something to eat."

Right on cue the server appeared with my plate, and I was more than sure the fast service had everything to do with Layla. I took a huge sip if my Sprite, incredibly thirsty. I realized I had never really paid attention to anything besides Layla's face. Tonight she was wearing a sleeveless emerald top that made her skin and hair stand out even more. She was also wearing tight dark jeans that showed off her flawless figure.

"You're eyes are a gorgeous green," she said, interrupting my ogling.

"Oh, thank you," I looked down, embarrassed, at my dinner. I was suddenly hungry.

She laughed. "Don't look down when someone compliments your eyes," she said softly. I smiled up at her.

"Eat!" she said, more happy now.

"Really! I'm fine! And your eyes are a really pretty shade of blue tonight," I said,

She had been staring into my eyes, and I saw how light hers were, lighter than I could remember seeing them. They were almost a sky blue now.

She stared at me, stunned. "What?"

"Well, your eyes change, you know. From a light blue to almost navy. Surely people notice that?" I said, just as stunned.

"This is more complicated than I had planned," she murmured to herself, and rested her head in her hand. I forked a mouthful in, chewing slowly, measuring her expression.

"Do you have any more theories?" she asked, weary.

"Mm hm. I'll tell you about them in the car. If…" I trailed off.

"There are conditions?" she sounded amused.

"I do have a few questions, of course."

"Of course."

I took another couple bites of my chicken lo mein.

"Well go ahead!" she exclaimed. I smiled. I started with the easiest, in my mind.

"Why are you in the area?"

She looked down, folding her delicate hands together slowly on the table. Her eyes flickered up at me from under her long lashes, the hint of a smirk on her face.

"Next." She said simply.

"But that's the easiest!" I objected. She shook her head. "Next." She repeated.

I sighed. "Okay… let's say a person has the ability to sense emotions. Maybe even thoughts. How would that work, exactly?"

"Hypothetically?" she asked.

"Sure."

"Well, maybe the ability has more to do with prediction and paying attention, than sensing emotions and thoughts…" she said very vaguely. "Naturally the crazed knifeman would come across you." She elaborated.

"We were speaking of a hypothetical case," I reminded her jokingly.

She laughed at me. But I wasn't satisfied.

"Really, how did you know?" I asked, involuntarily leaning into her. She seemed to be debating with herself internally, unable to make some decision about me.

"You can trust me," I said, getting frustrated again.

"I don't know if I have a choice anymore," she said in a sad whisper. "I was wrong, you're much more observant than I gave you credit for."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"I'm not sure," she shook her head again. "You're also much more of a magnet for trouble than I originally thought. If there is anything dangerous within a ten-mile radius, it will invariably find you."

"And you put yourself into that category?" I guessed.

Her face picked up that hard mask. "Most definitely."

I dropped my fork and reached across the table to touch my fingertips to her hand. Her skin was ice cold.

"Thank you, Layla. Really. For everything." I was being completely genuine.

"Let's not make it three times, okay?" her voice was full of desperation. I nodded enthusiastically.

"I followed you here." She admitted reluctantly. "I've never tried to keep a specific person alive before, and it's much more troublesome than I would have believed. But that's probably just because it's you. Ordinary people seem to make it through the day without so many catastrophes." She paused, cocking her head sideways. I wondered if I should find her following me creepy, because I really had no objections to it.

"Did it ever occur to you that my number was up the day at the pool? That you've been interfering with fate ever since? Or even today," I speculated.

"That wasn't the first time," her voice frosty and crystal clear. I stared at her, shocked, but she couldn't meet my eyes. "You're number was up the first time I met you."

I waited for the nasty wave of fear to go through me, but the only thing that happened was my hear beat increased. I thought of the terribly nasty glare the first day, her dark eyes full of hatred. But the moment we were having right now was completely different. I couldn't bring myself to fear her. I knew very well she was nothing good or safe, but I couldn't muster up an ounce of fear of her. Finally she met my eyes. I could tell she was surprised at my lack of concern.

"You remember?" she asked, her perfect face grave.

"Yes." I was calm.

"And yet here you sit." There was a trace of disbelieve in her voice; she raised one dark orange eyebrow.

"Yes, here I sit. Because of you. Because somehow you knew how to find me today…?" I prompted.

She pressed her bright pink lips together, staring at me through blue eyes that were deep in thought.

"You eat, I'll talk," she bargained. I nodded.

"Usually it's fairly easy to keep track of a person. Usually I can find someone very easily, once I've experienced their presence." She looked at me anxiously, but I didn't react. I had assumed something like this already. I finished chewing and smiled up at her.

"I was keeping tabs on Jesse, kind of, not very intently but enough to get an idea of what was going on. It took me a while to figure out you had separated from him. When I did realize that, I started picking up thoughts, emotions, from people around the fields, the building. When I got a terrible, violent, malicious mind so close to you, I decided to intervene," she was visibly trying to calm herself, getting upset at the man again, I supposed. I took a bite, waited a minute, then pressed her to go on.

"I opened the door to the place and was overwhelmed by the hostility. And by your fear. I knew what was going on, sort of. So I stormed in and…" she thought she was done explaining.

"I saw what you were doing with your eyes. Go on." I demanded.

"It's a way to make people do what I want them to… I just made him calm down and give me the knife. I left him confused, not knowing what had happened. I didn't do anything to him. Though I should have." She sounded regretful.

I sat quietly, still eating so I wouldn't have to talk, my thoughts everywhere. She was looking at her hands again, almost ashamed. Finally she looked up, her eyes seeking mine, full of her own questions.

"Are you ready to go home?" she settled on.

"I'm ready to leave," I qualified, extremely happy at the long ride ahead of us. I wasn't nearly ready to say goodbye to her yet. Layla called the waiter over, decidedly better at handling him, and we got the check. She reached for her wallet.

"Please, Layla. Let me have my dignity." I said simply. She let me pay.

We walked to her car and I got in, and then watched the way she glided neatly into her seat. I probably should have been used to that by now, but I wasn't. I had a feeling Layla wasn't the kind of person anyone got used to.

Layla pulled out through the traffic swiftly, apparently without a glance, flipping around to head toward the freeway.

She cleared her throat. "Now, it's your turn."