Justin

   I jolted awake with a start at the sudden loud chorus of some ridiculous cheer from the movie that was playing on the gigantic TV screen.

 Well, this was a little unusual. I hadn’t remembered falling asleep at all. True to my word, I’d forced Laila to sit downstairs in the basement and watch Bring It On with me, and we’d managed to make it through that movie and its sequel. I distinctly remember finding the third movie on Demand and pressing the play button, but then apparently I’d fallen asleep, because I didn’t remember anything after that.

 I was pulled away from the frantic inner-workings of my mind when I suddenly realized that there was somebody who was currently lying across my lap.

  It was Laila, and she was sleeping on me, her wavy hair splayed out across my legs.

 If we hadn't been plopped down on the comfy sofa in the basement, watching Bring It On, All or Nothing, completely by ourselves, I would have flushed furiously red and shoved her way. But for some odd reason, I remained decidedly frozen.

 I don’t even know how we even ended up in this position, either. We’d started out on opposite ends of the couch with considerable distance between us, hardly daring to look at each other. I hadn’t noticed when she’d fallen asleep sometime during one of the Bring It On movies – if I had, I would’ve been sorely tempted to kick her awake.

   If I ever thought back to his moment years from now, I'd probably still be wondering what on Earth possessed me to let my rival continue to sleep on me. Maybe it was because the more I actually took the time to look at Laila, the more I was finding myself thinking that Laila was… well, beautiful.

  Not only that, but really beautiful.

 Right at that moment, I was seriously beginning to question my sanity.

  Laila and I were two people that paths would never, ever cross. It was ludicrous to even think of her in that way. Just because I happened to think that she was ridiculously gorgeous didn't mean anything. I was a teenaged guy and it was normal to be ruled by my hormones, wasn’t it?

  If there really was a God out there, He should just strike me down now before anything else awkward and weird happened between the two of us. My life already had enough complications, particularly with another girl, and I didn't need anything else to make my brain hurt.

 "Laila," I sighed, giving her a none too gentle nudge. "C'mon, wake up. Go to bed."

Laila's sea-blue eyes slowly opened as she stared up at the ceiling, and then looked over at me. And then looked back up at the ceiling again…and then practically tossed herself off the couch with a loud shriek.  

  "Jesus, Justin! I'm sorry!" she started apologizing profusely, her voice cracking up at least two octaves.

 I couldn't help but burst out laughing, regardless of the fact that I would probably end up with a bruise upside my head or something.

  "It's not a big deal, Lai-Lai," I snickered, greatly enjoying watching her freak out in front of me. "So you fell asleep on me. That's hardly a capital offense."

  Laila narrowed her eyes into a steely glare, and I was surprised that she didn't start hissing.

 "Why didn't you push me off, huh? Pervert!"  she all but screamed.

  I blinked. “I thought about it, sweetheart, I really did. But then that would mean touching you more than necessary.”

 The color flooding her cheeks deepened as she muttered a few obscenities tacked onto the word “pervert”.

  "Glad to know you think I'm a pervert,” I said, trying to make the conversation light and happy again.

 Not.

   “Shut up, Richards!” she snapped back, her voice cracking up an octave.

  I snickered again while Laila flopped back onto a gigantic beanbag chair, grumbling quietly under her breath again. It may have been my imagination, but I swore I heard her mutter, "Stupid, idiotic, gorgeous jerk."

   Wait. Back up a second.

  Laila thought I was gorgeous?

    Well, well, well. She shouldn't have said that.

"What was that?" I asked loudly, cutting her off mid-rant.

  Laila jerked her head up, her eyes wide in shock, and immediately blushed all over again.

  "N-Nothing," she answered too quickly, stuttering.

 "You think I'm gorgeous?" I pressed, eyebrows raised, grinning crookedly.

   "Did I say that?" Laila practically shrieked, looking furious.

  "Um, yeah, you just did, sweetheart."   

  My grin widened. Laila jumped to her feet, completely flustered, and made some sort of disgusted hand gesture at me that was most certainly Italian before she stomped her way towards the stairs.

   "It's okay, Laila!" I called after her. "I think you're pretty gorgeous yourself, too!"

  The last thing I heard from her was some sort of half-snort, half-cough thing before disappeared from view. The sad part of that is that I knew she wouldn't believe me, all teasing and joking aside.

   I rolled my eyes, biting back a smile. Laila Hayes was definitely a handful; God only knew how Jeanine managed to put up with her for nearly sixteen years of her life.

    I rolled over off the couch and grabbed the TV remote, flicking the thing off, before dragging myself to my feet and heading up the stairs.

 My conscience was telling me that I should leave well enough alone and not go off and bother Laila anymore. But since I was a sixteen year old guy and I really didn’t like to follow the rules, I did the exact opposite.

 Laila was nowhere in sight on the first floor. I prowled through the living room, the dining room, peeked down into the kitchen, and even snaked open the back door and peered out into the spacious back property. Not there, either. There was no way in hell Laila had the guts to sneak into my room, I was sure of that. I didn’t even need to bother checking there. So there was only one place left for her to be: the guestroom.

  I stepped lightly up the stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible. If Laila didn’t hear me, that was all for the better. I wanted to keep all of my body parts intact, thanks very much.

 When I crept my way up into the second floor landing, the door to the Gryffindor room was shut. The closer I moved, the more I could hear the muffled sounds of Laila’s soft, quiet voice. Was she on the phone or something?

 “…Liss, I honestly don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Laila was saying, sounding strained.

 She fell silent. Liss, or whoever she was talking to, was obviously saying something in return.

  “No! I’m not even kidding you! I swear, Justin hates me, Lissa.”

 It was with that one little sentence that had my whole world spinning. Laila thought I hated her? Laila thought I hated her?

  I wasn’t sure how long I stood outside the guest room, my right hand half-raised as if to knock on the door. I wanted to start yelling at her about how that was completely ridiculous, that she shouldn’t even assume things like that. I wanted her to realize that I didn’t hate her, when I in fact….

 I in fact… what?

This was an entirely feasible question. But in all honesty, I didn’t even have an answer to that. More to the point, I didn’t even want an answer.

  What were my feelings for Laila Hayes?

 Okay, sure, Laila and I had a knack for teasing each other. It had been my mistake, I assumed, that I’d thought things were going to back to the same as before, obviously.

I shook my head slightly, blowing out a small sigh, and turned away from the guest room before quickly leaping up the remaining flight of stairs to my bedroom.

 The second the door swung shut behind me, I crossed the room and picked up the very first guitar that I’d ever gotten – from my Grandpa Richards for my 9th birthday. The thing was smooth and polished – I made sure it was on a daily basis – but the paint was fading and the finish was wearing off a bit. The guitar needed to be tuned more often than not, among other things, but I didn’t mind. For me, it was more out of than just appearance or sound that I loved playing this guitar. Whenever I picked up my guitar, sat down, and just let me fingers do the strumming, that was when I was hit with the best inspiration. It was when I did most of my thinking about life in general. How school had gone that day, things that I needed to take care of, my thoughts on particular things.

  And as much as I hated to admit, most of my thoughts had been taken up by Maggie Petrolas, my best friend Nick’s twin sister, while I’d played the guitar. It’s almost safely assumed that the girl was ridiculously attractive – with long, slinky legs, blonde wavy curls, high cheekbones, full lips, and honey colored eyes that could have a guy melting in the palm of her hand in seconds. Don’t even ask me why I felt the need to keep stringing her on – I hardly felt anything affectionate for the girl. I was so beyond confused about girls in general, I just tended to keep with what I was at least familiar with.

  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not really a conceited guy (sometimes). It’s just that I generally didn’t have a problem finding a girl to amuse me whenever I was bored or looking for fun. Some were ditzy, some were intelligent, some were funny, and some were just downright unbelievable, but they were all the same – even Maggie. They were all stereotypical high school girls that focused 98% of their attention on guys and cared more about their own appearance than they did their grades.

  It was safe to say that Laila Hayes wasn’t like any of those girls.

 Maybe that was why she was confusing the hell out of me so much.

Laila had only been here in Portland for a little over twenty-four hours, and already she had me stuck with more confusing thoughts and questions that I wanted to admit.

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I muttered, rubbing my forehead with the heel of my palm.

If there was one thing I was sure of – it was that I had no idea that I was sure of anymore - at least where Laila was concerned. I was sure as heck going to try to not become more smitten with her than I already was.

 I felt like I was quickly being trapped in some cliché chick flick movie because of some ridiculous girl. I seriously needed help.

  Grabbing my favorite guitar pick off the corner of my desk, I settled back against the wall with my guitar, and began to play.