The Story of us

Chapter Seven: A step Sideways

There's a first time for everything; even in the most bizarre of circumstances can something blossom, something you'd never have expected.

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"Layla, one of these days you're going to give me a stroke."

"I think I'm going to give myself a stroke," I mumbled half-heartedly. It was Monday morning and Danielle and I were both walking to school, although Danielle usually got dropped off by her family's chauffeur. She said she'd been dying for a chance to be rid of the practice. One of the many things I loved about her.

She flashed a grin and put an arm around my waist, "But I love you for it. I bet you you're Katherine's new idol. She's always hated the five of them."

"Really?" I said a bit absently, "I think one's a bit different..."

Dabuekke was instantly curious, "What makes you say that?"

I cringed at my carelessness, but I had to answer now, "One of them's been... helping me. Well, not exactly, because I don't think he likes me very much." Niall's cool expression and glare came to the forefront of my mind. "But even so, I'm grateful towards him. He always seems to appear when things get really bad and he somehow makes it better."

I hesitated before admitting, "He stopped those guys the other day."

Danielle's eyes were wide, but all she slyly asked was, "Does his name start with N?"

"Niall," I said without thinking, "Yeah, it does! How did you know?"

"Because I knew it was going to either be Niall or Liam. It definitely isn't Zayn because I think you've made it very clear how you feel about him, and Louis and Harry just didn't match your description. So," she mused, "Niall Horan, huh?"

I blushed at her tone. "I shouldn't have said anything," I mumbled as Danielle  laughed buoyantly, "You're just going to make something big out of nothing."

"Oh, I don't think it's nothing, LaylaBelle," she teased.

I'd spent the weekend catching up on all the homework I'd fallen behind on during my dismal week. In between this, my mind would nervously dwell upon what lay in store for me now.

As if she could read my thoughts, Danielle asked quietly, "What do you think's going to happen today?"

I swallowed. I had to admit, some of the confidence and determination had started to leak. Butterflies were fluttering in my stomach and I began to wonder if it was such a wonderful thing after all that I'd punched Zayn Malik in the face.

It was possibly the most unintelligent thing you've ever done. You punched the heir of Kensington co. In essence, that means you punched a hole in the British economy!

I cringed inwardly. Weak and timid Layla had returned with impeccable timing.

"I don't know," I said truthfully, trying to smile, "Can't be any worse... right?" Danielle smiled back at me uncertainly.

And in fact, the day passed by eerily calmly and uneventfully. The staring had increased tenfold, but thrown objects and unpleasant surprises there were none. Save one incident in the morning. I'd walked into my English classroom, constantly glancing over my shoulder and a little unnerved by everyone's silence - and the fact that I was walking rather than running -, and saw my desk. Only it wasn't my desk. My desk had been defaced with graffiti, but this one was brand new without a single mark on it.

So I had a new desk - but no chair.

I'd looked around the room, trying to sus out which one of my classmates had taken it, when the teacher herself walked in carrying one of the nice, comfortable chairs from the staffroom. She put it behind my desk and then bustled back up front to teach.