Layla could never justify why she put herself in these situations.
It was bad enough that she had just told Warren she loved him, but now she was walking away from him, knowing he was frustrated. She'd seen the panic in his eyes when she'd faux-breezily mentioned those two words, and was almost glad she'd chosen to do it as she walked away. He might've roasted her had she done it back in the auditorium like she'd wanted.
Okay, well, not roasted…but still. Warren could be temperamental, and she knew he would want answers come tomorrow. She just hoped she could give them to him.
Exiting into a chilly atmosphere, Layla clutched her arms around herself. She wished she had Warren's coat…even if it was leather. She fixed her clothes and touched up her make-up while she waited for the next bus—she wanted to look like she'd been staying after with a teacher, not her illegitimate boyfriend.
She did love him. But it was a big step, to actually say it out loud; it wasn't like they had many conversations during their meetings about their feelings or anything. She wasn't even aware she loved Warren until the other day, when he had smiled at her behind Will's back. She always loved it when Warren smiled: he never did it enough, the surly bastard. But it was that smile, the one that made her heart flutter a bit, that made her realize just how deep she was in with him. And then, a few days later, here she was, telling him. She hadn't even said she loved Will until a few months into the relationship, and she'd been in love with him for years then.
She'd been afraid to say it to Will, even if it had been obvious. With Will, she was reserved, just plain old Layla, who was out to equalize the world, one green plant at a time. Being with Warren always made her feel like she could be someone else—someone reckless, passionate, even a little powerful. She took more chances with him, let him do things she'd never dream of letting Will do. —Like make out in a supposed-to-be empty auditorium.
After catching the after-school bus, she sat in silence, even as the bus driver attempted to make conversation with her. She was too wrapped up to consider small talk.
She hadn't exactly meant to kiss Warren that first night. She admitted that she had been tipsy, and the kiss wasn't supposed to have meant anything. She had just been curious, is all. Curious about how Warren tasted, how well he kissed compared to Will. At least, that how she tried to justify it. And she supposed the reason she allowed him to kiss her the next time was because her relationship with Will had gotten…stale.
Will became her best friend in first grade. After the first year or two of discovering everything about each other, they settled into a comfortable companionship. The same deal had happened with their romantic relationship: a year into it, they had settled into holding hands on the way to class, smiling across classrooms, only kissing goodbye. Now, two years in, he just…didn't make her heart flutter anymore. Not the way Warren could, at least.
She still loved him, of course. That was what was so unfair about the situation. Will's love was so pure, so innocent, even if a little ignorant. He called her princess, and treated her like one, taking her on romantic trips to Paris, Rome, London, anywhere she wanted. He was a nice guy, and she would hate to break his heart, especially with the fact that she was also in love with his best friend.
At the same time, though, she kind of liked being the bad girl. The girl with a secret, who broke hearts. But she didn't know which she liked more, being the princess or the heartbreaker.
When she was finally home, her mother asked her about her day.
"Oh, you know. Same old, same old. I had to stay after, ask Mr. Boy something about our next text." She had used the same lie with Will, who had thankfully run off with Zack to study for Mr. Medulla's test rather than stick around and ask Mr. Boy questions as well.
Her mother accepted the lie easily, and Layla found her way up to her room. Luckily, she, like Will, had an easily accessible roof outside her window, which was where she found herself an hour and a half later, in a borrowed sweatshirt of Will's, when he came swooping out of the sky.
"Hey," he said, smiling at her surprise.
"I hate it when you do that," she mentioned, her hand to her chest, as if it would regulate her heartbeat. As he settled next to her, his head in her lap, she asked, "What's up?"
He shrugged, finding her hand and twining his fingers with hers. "I missed you."
It was times like this when her love for him resurfaced, and remembered why she'd fallen in love in the first place. "It's only been like, three hours."
He shrugged again, kissing her wrist.
"How did studying go?" she asked, smiling slightly, knowing something was bound to have gone wrong with Zack around.
He smiled, but still studied her hand intently. "Zack accidentally made a freeze ray-gun instead of a heat ray-gun, and then froze half of my bedroom when he was trying to prove it was a heat gun."
She giggled. "Why am I not surprised?"
He twined his fingers between hers again, putting their hands on his chest: she could almost feel his heartbeat. "I had to fix the gun to unfreeze my room." They laughed together, but then lapsed into silence, as they often did, having run out of new topics to discuss and stories to tell long ago, as the sun faded behind them. It was times like this when she wished for Warren.
"Warren's birthday is coming up soon," Will said suddenly.
Layla briefly froze at the mention of Warren's name, but quickly recovered. "Yeah. Thursday or something, right?" She of course knew the exact date, but didn't want to make Will feel bad.
He nodded. "Yeah, Thursday, January 19th." He was obviously proud of the fact that he had remembered. Then he deflated again. "I don't know what to get him."
She had been planning on getting Warren a copy of Tolstoy's War and Peace—the fact that his name shared such a close resemblance and that no one had done it yet meant that she just had to. "Just get him a card and some money. I'm sure he wouldn't mind."
"Maybe I'll throw him a party—a surprise party."
Layla gave Will a look. "You know Warren doesn't like parties." He'd rarely come to them as it was, but after the kissing incident, he avoided them at all costs, similar to whenever he saw Lauren walking down the hall.
"But he'll have to like this one. After all…it's his birthday party. We're celebrating it whether he wants to or not."
Layla rolled her eyes, smiling because she knew she was supposed to, until his eyes closed under the movements of her fingers; her hand had reached for Will's hair at some point during the conversation, and was now just running her fingers through.
After Warren had cut his hair—on his mother's insistence for senior pictures—the only difference between the boy's hairstyles were the colors. Warren maintained red streaks through his black locks, while Will's were just plain brown, even after last year's incident involving Warren, Zack, bleach, and blue hair dye. Layla frowned when she caught a slight snarl and tugged lightly, but didn't receive any sort of response. Warren would have at least growled, but Will just kept his eyes closed, as if he had fallen asleep.
"Layla!"
Will jerked awake at the sound of her mother's voice, and was up within seconds. He helped Layla to her feet in a matter of only two more.
"What, Mom?" she yelled back, as Will kissed her cheek.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he muttered. "Love you."
"Okay," she whispered, moving to kiss him as well, but he had already taken off in a gust of wind. "...Love you too." She sighed. Was it sad that these brushes with mothers were the closest thing to adventure the two had?
The door to her room opened as she halfway through her window. "What were you doing outside, Layla?" her mother asked, accusation underlying in her words.
Layla shrugged, swinging her other leg over her windowsill. "Just thinking."
"You know I don't like you going out on the roof."
Layla could see her mother getting distracted, and politely steered her back on course. "Was there a particular reason you needed me?"
Her mother's face snapped back to focus on the matter at hand. "Oh, yes—Warren's here. He said he had to talk to you."
A/N: Sorry to leave on a bit of a cliff-hanger. Hope you liked it anyway. Sorry if it was wordy and such--it was mostly just Layla thinking. Trying to justify, as it were. Reviews are lovely and much appreciated!