I Talk, You Listen

Layla whatever the fuck your last name is | 1.4

I sat to the side of the roller rink, watching as the cheesy disco lights rolled over everyone's face in the building. I don't know why I was here. I don't know why I let Brynn drag me into another "I like what he likes cause he's hot" scheme. When just two days ago Brynn was bitchin' about me being "Jealous and conceited."

Not only had I been ditched the second we came into this rundown, somehow popular teenage wasteland. I also was being followed by a child, who disturbingly has the greasy facial structure of a forty year old man.

I don't mind child crushes the slightest. In fact, I find some of them quite endearing. But when a baby elephant with the face of a pedophile is hurdling five miles per hour, straight toward your chest, it's not that endearing at all. It's actually scary as fuck.

So here I sit, hugging the wall in hopes of not being spotted. I have two theories: 1) His mom decided it was time for him to get some fucking sleep or 2) The toilet suction here is pretty powerful. So, hopefully, his ass is latched onto that like super glue.

Imagine the type of hickey you would get from that.

"Hey, Chameleon, how's that camouflage workin' out for you?" I turned my head to be directly face to face with a boy who wore an attractive, shit eating grin. "Apparently, not so well if I got spotted so easily."

I uncurled my limbs and let him pull me up to the rink. "My names Achilles. If you see a child pedophile anywhere, please warn me. He's the entire reason for me going incognito."

He kept that grin on his face, skating away from me a bit. I was slightly offended until I noticed he wanted me to follow. "My names Thomas. A lot of people just call me Tommy though. I actually came over to see if you wanted to meet a few of my friends? We watched you avoid that kid the majority of the night."

"And nobody came to save me? How rude. Ever heard of those cliché "Damsel in Distress" moments? This is actually one of the few times I would've accepted help."

Tommy laughed and said something but I didn't exactly catch because of who sat at the table with him. Behind the layer of meat and testosterone, there was one of the prettiest girls I have evenly seen in my entire fucking life.

Tommy sat down and gestures towards the only seat open, beside her. Jesus fucking Christ, my heart is about to implode. "Achilles, this is Robby, Wilson, and Layla," Tommy gestured to each before dramatically sitting down.

Shit, I really wish I had a cigarette. I don't know what the hell else to do with my hands and they're shaking so fucking bad. "Achilles? As in the whole "Mom weirdly dips son in river by heel" story?" Layla asked me.

Her voice was really soft and had a slight country twang to it that made me smile. It contrasted so much with my slight Brooklyn accent. How the hell did two entirely different people end up in the middle of fucking Georgia?

"Yeah, thats the one. I never quite got why she dipped him by the heel either. It sounds like some drunken attempt to teach your kid how to swim," I couldn't help but fucking ramble. I took the napkin and started to unconsciously tear at its sides.

"Are you guys from here? I don't come here often but I've never seen you guys before," I asked, because I couldn't shut the fuck up. The one who I believe is Wilson pushed his big glasses further up his nose, "We go to Falcon high. Just thirty minutes away."

He smiled and went back to drinking his large ass lemonade. He was cute in the stereotypical dorky way. Wore sweater vests, over sized glasses, kinda slicked back hair. He was practically Marcel from that one One Direction music video. And I have a feeling he's gonna be pissing for an hour when he gets home. I actually did know Falcon High, not because we were rivals or anything, but because of Brynn, who once dated their Quarter back and then dumped him in the same week.