Yeah, I Hate You Too, Sweetheart.

Chapter 4 - Justin

  Justin

     It was a sad habit of mine that made me sneak into Laila's room the next morning. I'll admit that I, Justin Richards, was really curious and maybe even a little desperate to know a bit more about my rival. But I didn't feel too guilty, because Jeanine had asked me to wake up Laila, anyways. I just didn't mention that I was going to go snooping around a little bit. Clearly that was a mistake on Jeanine’s part.

 

   There were five guest bedrooms on the second floor, and only two of those doors were left shut, so I chose to go to the room where I couldn’t hear the sounds of a running shower coming from. Cracking open the door slowly, I peeked inside. Laila was sprawled out on the four-poster bed, halfway underneath the scarlet sheets. I quickly caught sight of a duffle bag tossed on a top of golden easy chair a few feet away by the window. Flipping open the top, I saw your typical girl clothes. Jeans, shorts, a pair of gray sandals, blouses, a few soccer jerseys, even band t-shirts. I unfolded a few of the band t-shirts and was impressed. Laila didn't have bad taste in music. 

   Of course, being Laila, there were no skirts or skimpy tops in the suitcase. She wasn't like any of the girls I knew, that was for sure. Creeping over towards the bed, I caught sight of a copy of the latest Harry Potter novel lying open on the floor. I should’ve known. This room happened to be decorated in Gryffindor colors.  

 This was all typical Laila, of course. 

 

  Okay, so there really was no excuse for what I did next. The opportunity was there, and I was known to act impulsively. Plus, I really wanted to see how Laila would react. So I reached over and covered her mouth with one of my hands and pinched her nose.

  Her sea-blue eyes shot open instantly and without warning, she swung out an arm and slammed a fist into my ribs. I almost fell over backwards on my ass from the impact of her punch. I had not been expecting that in a million years. Laila had a mean right hook.

 

  "Jesus," I spat out, massaging my ribs. "Remind me never to come across you in a dark alley, Laila."

  Laila blinked up at me through half-closed lids before she sat up.

"Mind telling me what you're doing in here?" she asked groggily.

  "You know, your hair looks like a rat's nest, but I kind of like it," I said conversationally, ignoring her question.

  Her hands flew to her hair, but then she let her hands drop a moment later, her eyes narrowing into slits.

 "What do you want, Justin?" she demanded, kicking back the blankets and hopping to her feet.

 Laila might have been trying to make me feel uncomfortable, but it really wasn't working. Sure, her glare was hard and steely, but she was so short it hardly made a difference. The top of her head barely reached my shoulders.

  "Breakfast," I said.

She rolled her eyes and tugged her hair up into a sloppy bun. I turned to leave the room, but she hesitantly called out, "Justin?"