All I Ever Wanted

Mike's POV

Mike's POV

As I sit talking to Phoebe I notice Emma watching us. She looks fondly at Phoebe. More like a parent would look at a child than a girl watching at her sister. I used to look at my brother like that. I don't dwell on thoughts of my brother for too long though. It would bring back painful memories, memoires I have no wish to remember. However trying to forget is like trying to remember something you never knew. So I push it to the back of my mind. Where everything is covered in cobwebs. I think my limited knowledge on algebra is back there too.

I smile at Phoebe. She's looks just like her sister. The only difference is the eyes; Phoebes are a clear blue and through them you can see every emotion she is feeling. In her case the eyes really are the window to her soul. Emma's however are a misty grey. They hide everything behind the mysterious mist of her irises. Maybe I was wrong. My first impression of Emma was she was another spoiled brat. I don't think so anymore.

Either way I'm not sure I care, I'm not sure why I'm here. I didn't expect to ever see this girl again, and I especially didn't think I would meet her sister. However when I saw her in the hall I decided to follow her just because I was curious. Now I'm here the reason I don't leave is because Phoebe is funny and whatever comes from her mouth is surprising. She intrigues me.

When I depart I smile and wave. I keep my toy from the happy meal. For this I see Emma rolls her eyes good naturedly. I run down the halls earning disapproving looks from those around me. They don't bother me, because I don't care. Why should I? In my opinion life is too short to care about what other people think.

I'm so lost in thought so I barely notice when I bump into someone. I refocus and see she is a lady about my age. Immediately I apologise, "I'm sorry, I wasn't concentrating." I don't stop to think how unusual it is that I'm apologising. She's shrunk back from me and seems worried. I frown in confusion, "Are you okay?" I ask. This is defiantly strange for me. Most people think I have no conscious but here I am, asking if this lady is okay. She looks at me with wide eyes. "I'm sorry it was an accident. Are you alright?" My attempts at apologies seem to be ignored.

I take in her appearance. The first thing you notice about her is her eyes. There innocent, wide and a startling shade of blue. Her hair is a dark brown in dull lighting but when she's in the sun her hair looks red. She's dressed in a simple red jumper and jeans.

I smile at her apologetically before some inconsiderate person pushes past. She wobbles unsteadily on her heals and I catch her before she can fall. I don't even know her name. She shrinks back from me. Something about her reactions seems vaguely familiar but I shrug it off and help her up. I can't stand her just looking at me any longer so I take her hand and lead her down the street. She is reluctant and tries to pull back but her curiosity wins out and she comes willingly to the restaurant. I have just eaten but I have a feeling she hasn't.

She still hasn't spoken one word. I ask her, "What's your name?"

She whispers her answer so quietly I think I'm imagining it. "Layla."

"It's a pretty name." I say. She doesn't answer but I think I see the edge of her lips twist up into a smile. And I smile right back. We order and I watch her eat. She cuts her food up into tiny pieces and eats them one by one. She chews more than necessary and I find myself staring. I wonder what she thinking. But her thoughts to me are as silent as her words.

For the first few minutes she doesn't speak and seems lost in her thoughts. I chat away about everything I can think of. Music, movies, my job but I don't tell her much about me as a person. I don't tell her about my family, or my past or anything that one day might come back to haunt me. She doesn't really listen at first. She seems absorbed in her own thoughts. About a quarter of the way through she starts paying attention. It didn't really bother me she wasn't listening, I was saying nothing of importance. Even when I think she's listening she comments very little, probably because she's shy.

I look into her eyes which are a piercing blue. I like her eye colour; it reminds me of the sky. I look into her eyes as she speaks her first whole sentence all day. Seemingly unimportant, but to me it's a fact about her I want to always remember. She tells me and smiles, "My favourite flowers are lilies; I don't have a colour preference. What about you?"

I smile at her just happy she seems to be enjoying herself. She seems to be the kind of person that keeps to herself a lot, so I'm glad I could get her to open up. Even if it's about something as small as her favourite flower. "I don't have a favourite flower, but I like the colour blue." I answer her question.

I wonder why I care. Why I'm glad she's sitting across from me. Why I'm happy I made her smile. Normally I don't care about these things. I could kick a puppy and not feel any guilt. I don't care what others think about me, so I usually just do what I want. When Layla sits across from me I want her to like me. I want to convince her I'm a good person. I don't know why I suddenly feel this way. But I think I like it.