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In hindsight, Layla thinks maybe she should have thought things through before she told Will she was in love with him. Because she wasn't. She had a crush, and then there was that whole thing with Gwen and she felt so jealous it shot her feelings for Will out of proportion in her head, the crush mixed with the friendship mixed with how it seemed like Will didn't care about her anymore, but it wasn't real. She did like him, but she wasn't in love, exactly.
Kissing several feet above the ground has yet to get old, but she just shouldn't have rushed into it, because it isn't so much the kissing she likes as the act of defying gravity and looking damned good doing it.
"You're right," Warren says after she tells her all of this, slipping into the seat across from her in her usual booth at the Paper Lantern. "You shouldn't have rushed into it."
"But if I hadn't, I wouldn't know now that I don't want to date him," she says, nodding to herself.
"You don't want to date him," Warren says skeptically, "but you're dating him. I don't want to hear the rest of this."
"You're his best friend," Layla says, and Warren opens his mouth to speak, but she lifts a finger to stop him. She knows what he's going to say — he's not friends with wimps like Will, she needs to stop lying to herself he's even friends with her, blah blah blah. She's heard it all before, and it used to be endearing, how hard Warren tried to fool himself, but now it kind of annoys her. Not a lot, because it's still fun to see Warren try to fish his way out of what he sees as accusations and she'd call simple statements of truth, but enough to want to avoid it. "You're his best friend, and you need to let me know how I can let him down easy and stay friends. Or at least civil."
"Just break up with the guy," Warren says dismissively. "He'll get over it. It will take time, because Stronghold can be really thick, but he'll forgive you."
"We've been together for almost a year," Layla says, gesturing with her hands.
"And you've wanted to break up with him for half of it," Warren says. "You've been lying to him for that long, I'm sure you can cook something up to break up with him. Like how you just want to focus on your studies so you can get into a good college or something. Or you could get a job and have to work every time he wants to see you until he gets the hint that you're not into him anymore."
"He knows I'm doing well in school," Layla says. "And that's not really a hint I want to give. He's still my best friend, and I like hanging out with him."
"Whatever. Just do something," he says, and maybe she's imagining, but there's something contrived about his words, about his face, like he's feigning more of this careless attitude than he lets on. "I'd like to go back to not being your therapist soon."
~
She breaks up with Will on Sunday. They're having breakfast at this bakery in town that neither one of them likes — she told him she really missed their raspberry cupcakes, but actually she just doesn't want to sully any of the places that mean something to them.
Her reasoning is, "There's someone else."
Will plasters on the stupidest, most fake grin she's seen since the last time she saw The Commander's latest cereal commercial on TV and says, "It's okay. It's totally fine. You met someone else. That's — fine. Totally."
Layla sighs sadly. "We're still friends, right?"
"Sure," Will says.
"I'll understand if you need a little time," she offers.
"Yeah," Will says, and she has no idea what it means, but she figures it could have been worse.
~
"'There's someone else'?" Warren says flatly when he spots her sipping tea at the Paper Lantern. "That's what you came up with? You might as well have said 'it's not me, it's you'."
"How's he doing?" Layla asks. She's seen Will at school, and he's been acting weird. Cheerful in a way that makes her feel like she kicked a puppy and the puppy's trying not to hold it against her. She's been giving him space, but she's never broken up with anybody before, so she's not sure that's what he's asking for. What if he wants her to push his romantic feelings back into friendship for him? She's not sure that's a plausible goal, but she's willing to try for Will.
"He's fine," Warren says, shaking his head. "I told you, he'll get over it. But you didn't tell me there was someone else."
If Layla were a less insecure girl, she'd think Warren sounds jealous. As it is, she just gives him a suspicious look before going on.
"There isn't," she lies, then amends, "I mean, it's no one new."
"Does he — or she, whatever — want you back?" Warren says.
Layla narrows her eyes thoughtfully. "I'm still trying to figure that out."
"Fine," Warren says harshly, clearing her table. "Do not keep me posted. One delicate flower to deal with at a time is more than enough."
~
She shows up on his doorstep at six in the morning on Sunday, and he opens the door just when she thinks both he and his mom are such sound sleepers they didn't even hear her ring the bell.
He's wearing in a light gray t-shirt and loose, dark boxers, and she realizes it might not have been the best idea to do this now. He's never seemed like a morning person. He might burn her down to shreds by accident.
Still, what's done is done, and it's worth it just for the look of utter confusion on his face and the way his lips look dark and swollen and she can't remember a moment when it was more difficult to hold herself back from kissing him than right now.
"Actually, I have to let you know about it to figure it out," she says.
"What the hell," Warren groans.
She's not sure he will absorb words this early in the morning — she's not even sure she'll be able to get them out, in all honesty — so she props her weight up on her tiptoes and presses her lips to his. There's a trace of toothpaste there, and she wonders if he knew it was her. If he knew she was here to kiss him. He's not psychic, though, and she thinks this is like those times he keeps a distance at the Lantern when his shirt is covered in sweat — maybe he just brushed his teeth because there's opening the door wearing ratty old clothes and then there's scaring her away.
That's — actually, she likes that second option best.
He doesn't kiss back, but he doesn't push her away.
"You broke up with Will three days ago," he says. His breath is warm against her mouth.
"I'd been wanting to do that for months," Layla tells him. "You said it yourself. I'd also been wanting this — you — for that long. Maybe more. I just didn't expect you to stick with me for so long. I didn't think it was — " She bites her lip. She wasn't sure it was a good idea. She wasn't sure he was a good person underneath. She thought she loved Will and wanting to be just friends with him again was just a phase, that it would pass.
It hasn't passed.
He looks at her for a moment, gaze almost predatory, and she worries he's going to walk out and slam the door in her face.
Instead, he hooks his fist around a handful of her shirt to drag her in, kicks the door shut, pins her against the wall and dives in, takes her mouth like all he wants in the world is to own it, to have her.
It's not flying, not literally like Will does, but it feels even more like it than floating right off the ground.