Christian and Layla

Part One: Christian

“Post Encounter”

You could call it a love story, but I just call it our story. There was love, there was loss, there were family interferences, and there was an ending. There was more than one ending.

Regardless of what happened, it appeared that our lives were intertwined, our hearts somehow fused, our futures seemingly tethered.

It all started with an ending.

**

The year that I turned fourteen, my father, Mitchell Turner, moved my mother, Nancy, and me to Almanbury for his work. It was the beginning of spring and nearing the end of term three at school. I’d loved living in South Coast. I loved the atmosphere and the slightly laidback yet still businesslike city. I used to believe that South Coast was more of a country-town compared to some capital cities, and then realised that this was far from accurate when I actually moved to the country.

Almanbury was the last place that I wanted to be. It was every bit a sleepy little country-town and, after living in the city, was a much different pace to what I was used to. “Salt of the earth, Christian,” my mother would say. “The people of Almanbury are salt of the earth.” Sure, but maybe I was more of a pepper guy.

The drive from South Coast to Almanbury was unreasonably long for the nothing that was in between. Despite its name, South Coast wasn’t the southmost point of the continent. No, that spot was reserved for Almanbury. Tucked far beneath civilisation where no one would pass by unless they were looking for it. Almanbury.

I started at Almanbury Senior High four days after arriving in the town. It felt appropriate that the locals abbreviated the school to ASH since it certainly felt like my life had gone up in smoke.

I walked through the short and narrow halls to the principal’s office one fateful Monday morning knowing absolutely no one. My mum had tried to encourage me to wander around town after we’d arrived, but I didn’t see the point. The whole town centre was almost as small as a suburb back home so, to me, circling it in less than an hour would only depress me more. If I didn’t see how small it was, maybe I could trick myself into believing I was somewhere else. It was worth a shot, even if that shot missed the target.

The principal, Mr Coleman, walked me to my form class. All I could think of was three years. Three years. That’s all it took before I was out of here and city-bound again. I had practically calculated and begun counting down the hours as I walked into the class of a mere sixteen people. It was sixteen less than the smallest class I had at my old school, South Iris High. My spirits dropped to a new low. Three years felt like an eternity away.

But then I saw her.

I remember the moment so clearly, that moment when I first saw her face. She was the epitome of beauty. I remember how the dim sunlight reflected in her shoulder-length auburn hair like a halo and the way that she stumbled through the door laughing at herself after tripping over her own feet.

I knew right then that, whatever it took, I would know her. I would stay in Almanbury forever if it meant being close to her.

“Whoopsy daisy.” She giggled. “Morning, Mr Coleman.”

“Layla Thomas, good morning.” The man nodded.

Layla Thomas.

“Who’s your friend there?” she asked, her gold eyes settling on me. I adjusted my stance and then reached my hand towards her. I couldn’t help it. I needed to know if her hands felt as soft as they looked.

“Christian Turner,” I said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“But we haven’t met yet, Christian Turner.” She smiled and shot out her hand, clasping mine with a snap. “Layla Louise Thomas. Now it is nice to meet you.”

I laughed. Layla Louise Thomas. I was already in love with this girl.

“Well then, now that you’ve officially met,” Mr Coleman sighed. “Layla, can you look after Christian and show him around today?”

“Sure, it won’t take that long.” She laughed again. “This school is teeny.”

Mr Coleman cleared his throat. “Thank you, Miss Thomas.”

Another adult entered the room, and she looked as if she had just rolled out of bed, and that bed was in a barn.

“Ms Tottle, this is Christian Turner. He has just moved here with his family. His father is the new police sergeant in town.”

And bam. Instant repellent.

Layla’s eyebrow rose at me. It was distracting but intriguing. Usually people didn’t care who my dad was until they found out. Then they proceeded with caution.

“Come on, Deputy Turner,” she said, pushing me sideways in the direction of a desk. I stumbled into it, and she sat beside me. “So, what’s your story?”

“My story?”

“We’ve all got a story,” she replied. “Tell me about Christian.”

I smirked. “Well, I was born in March—”

“Pisces or Aries?”

I blinked. “Um, Pisces.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” she sighed.

“Why is that a relief?”

“I’m a Scorpio. We’re compatible.” She shrugged. “So, where did you move from?”

“South Coast.”

“What’s your favourite colour?”

“Gold.”

She blinked. “Are you for real? Who picks gold as their favourite colour?”

I laughed. “No idea, it just popped into my head.”

“Favourite song?”

“Here Comes the Sun by The Beatles,” I said. “Or Layla by Eric Clapton.”

“You’re lying.” She smiled, and her nose wrinkled.

I shook my head. “I’m not.”

“Live acoustic version or album version?”

“Album.”

“Who picks the album version? The live acoustic version of Layla is so much better. Everyone knows that, Christian Turner.”

I lifted a shoulder. “You’re right. What was I thinking?”

She giggled. “Okay then, now for a serious question.”

I shuffled in my plastic chair. “Shoot.”

“If a tree falls in a forest, and no one is around to hear it, does it make a noise?”

“Let me answer your question with another question, Layla Thomas,” I said. “Is there ever really no one or nothing with ears around to not hear something?”

Her pretty eyes narrowed. “I like you, Christian Turner.”

I just smiled because no words could escape me. She looked up and waved at three more people who were dribbling through the door. At South Iris High, if you were late to form, you got a late slip. Here, people seemed to rock up to class when they felt like it. Maybe ASH wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Hey, guys, I want you to meet an old friend of mine,” Layla said as she looked at me and winked.

Yup, I was definitely in love with this girl.

The two guys and girl walked over, pouring into the surrounding seats.

“Wayne, Abbie, Stuart, this is Christian Turner,” she announced. “He just moved here from South Coast. He is a Pisces, and don’t bother messing with him because—”

I looked down, expecting the inevitable because his dad is a cop.

“—because otherwise, I’ll shoot you,” she said and then added, “with my camera.”

Her hand lifted, and something flashed in front of my eyes. I blinked and saw that it was a disposable camera in her grip. Her thumb wound the roll of film on. It surprised me. I didn’t think people used film anymore.

The guy with light brown hair huffed, and I looked over at him.

“Hey, Christian,” he said. “I’m Stuart. I see that Layla has already gotten her hooks into you.”

You have no idea.

I smiled at her, and she beamed back at me.

“Apparently.” I nodded.

I was in so much trouble.

“Wait, Layla, did we break up?” the other guy who had orange hair asked. Wayne, I guessed.

Layla pushed him, and he theatrically half-fell out of his chair.

“We were never together, Wayne,” she sighed. “Unless you count in your dreams.”

He laughed, and I sort of felt sorry for the guy. He genuinely looked as if he did dream about her. I guess he was only human.

“I’m Wayne,” he said, nodding towards me. “Good to meet you, bro. Welcome.”

“Cheers, man.”

The girl, Abbie, I assumed by deductive reasoning, tipped her head.

“Is your dad the new cop?” she asked.

I pressed my lips together.

“How do you know that, Abbie?” Layla asked. “Did Christian’s dad already bust yours for handing out bogus scripts again?”

Wayne burst into hysterics. Stuart rolled his eyes. Abbie’s eyebrows lifted.

“Wow, back away from the new guy, or Layla will shoot you down,” she grumbled. “Even if you happen to have been her best friend since we were four.”

Layla seemed to blush. “I’m sorry, Abigail, but who really cares about who his dad is? He is probably just as scary as anyone else’s dad.”

Wayne laughed again. “Except yours. Henry is the greatest.”

Layla glowed. She seemed proud of the fact.

“So, Christian, if you’re free after school, a few of us like to hang out at the forum,” Stuart said.

“You guys have a forum here?” I smirked. “Go figure.”

“Well, it might not be as big as the city complexes, but it’s something to do.” Abbie shrugged. “It’s hard to miss, though. Haven’t you been there?”

I lifted a shoulder. “No. I haven’t really been anywhere. I’ve been, uh, unpacking.” I glanced at Layla. “Do you normally hang at the forum after school?”

She nodded. “But if you haven’t seen the rest of the town, then I can show you around. After all, Mr Coleman assigned me to give you the grand tour.”

“I don’t think he meant beyond school grounds, Layla,” Wayne sighed.

“That sounds good to me,” I answered.

“What does? Hanging at the forum or Layla playing tour-guide?” Stuart asked. He looked amused.

“The tour guide thing mostly.” I smiled at Layla, and she straightened and smiled back. “But the forum thing sounds pretty cool too.”

Stuart smacked me in the shoulder. “You’re going to fit in just fine here, Turner.”

The school was a bit bigger than I initially thought, and Layla was thorough in showing me all the little nooks and crannies that ASH had to offer. I tried to make a mental note to remember some of them because they looked as if they might come in handy. But, I was too distracted by her voice, her eyes, the smile that glowed from her cheeks, and the way she would randomly click the camera in her hand to take a photo of me. Everything about her captivated me. I had never considered myself a romantic—I couldn’t tell you any fourteen-year-old guy that would—but the things I would do for Layla Thomas, the lengths I would go to if only she asked me, it scared me a little.

“Any questions?” she asked.

It was the end of lunchtime, and I was only faintly aware that people still stared at me as if I was a blue M&M that had fallen into a bowl of red ones.

“Just one,” I replied.

“Then that’s all you get, so make it count.”

I smiled. I couldn’t help it. I’d smiled so much today that my cheeks began to ache. I pressed my fingers into my dimples.

“Do you want to hang out sometime? Just you and me, I mean.” I was a bit impressed that my voice held so steady. In the past, girls scared the hell out of me with all their eyelash flapping and hair tucking that they do to try and throw you off. Layla didn’t scare me. Maybe the way I felt about her did, but everything about her felt… right.

“Christian, we are hanging out right now, just you and me.” She smiled.

“Well then do you—”

“You said one question.”

I frowned. “Can I buy another one?”

Her arms folded. “With what?”

“I don’t really have much, to be honest. What did you have in mind?”

She held up her fingers to make a rectangular frame around my face. “Christian Turner, you may have another question if you let me photograph you some time.”

“You’ve been doing that all day anyway, Layla Thomas.” I smirked. “Anything else?”

“Was that your second question?”

“What? No.”

Her lips curved. “What about that?”

I chuckled nervously and ran my hands through my scruffy hair. “You are making this impossible.”

“Okay, second purchase,” she said. “You have to get a haircut. I think it would look nicer a little bit shorter.”

“Done,” I sighed. “Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

Her smile was blinding. “Why, Christian Turner, I thought you’d never ask.”

After school, Layla showed me around the town centre, which I guess was a more downscaled version of a city centre. Basically, it was just a cluster of shops which included a post office, where her mum apparently worked, plus a tavern and a cemetery just on the outskirts. Nothing seemed that far from anything and, although there wasn’t much, the way that Layla regarded the small town, I began to see the awe in it. Almanbury was home to her. That was good enough for me.

One thing that I couldn’t quite seem to get used to in the four and a half days of being here, though, was the weather. The cold felt colder, even in the warming spring. The locals didn’t seem to notice and seemed to treat it like a South Coast summer. I guess it wasn’t all bad, though. I mean, I couldn’t deny that I enjoyed seeing Layla in her little yellow dress.

Apparently, most people brought a change of clothes to school even if the uniform wasn’t that bad. I mean, a black polo school shirt with any kind of bottoms was much better than the checks and purples of my old school. Layla trumped everyone else, though. Underneath her black polo shirt and denim skirt was the yellow dress. She had already torn her uniform off as we walked through the front gates. We started walking around the small town. Well, I was walking while Layla danced around in a circle. Her dress twirled as she stepped.

“Aren’t you cold?” I asked after an hour had passed.

“Are you?” she countered.

“No. Well, a little.”

“City slicker.” She smiled.

“So where to now? Is the tour over?”

I looked up as we headed between the brick walls of the malls. I tried to ignore the disappointment that I felt that we’d soon be surrounded by people.

“The forum. If you want,” she answered. “You said that it sounded cool to hang out, so I thought I’d introduce you to everyone.”

I caught her hand as she spun again. She landed up against me, and my back fell against the wall behind. The closeness was a little thrilling.

“Or we could just make another lap of the town?” I offered.

Her gaze dropped to my mouth, and I moistened my lips. She lifted her eyes back to meet mine.

“Whatever you want,” she whispered.

I could feel her heart beating, and it was quick. Her hands were resting on my arms. They didn’t make any attempt to move, and it pleased me to know that she liked being this close to me too. I bit my lip, and her eyes followed the motion again, then returned to mine.

“Layla?” I said.

“Christian.”

“Is it okay if I kiss you up against this wall?”

Her breath caught in her throat. “As long as that’s all you plan to do.”

“And what if it’s not?”

She responded by lifting her lips to meet mine, her hands clutching my arms to better reach. I spun her around, pressing her gently but firmly against the wall, and cradled her mouth to mine.

I had kissed a girl before, sure, if you call a peck a kiss. But kissing her was like poetry in motion. It wasn’t perfect in the Hollywood sense, but it was perfect because it was real. It was messy, and it was laced with a passion and a hunger that was beyond our years.

I didn’t stop kissing her until my lips felt bruised.

**

Time is a funny thing. Sometimes it feels like it’s going at double speed, but sometimes it feels like it has stopped altogether. My life began to straddle both at different times of the day and in different company. One thing that didn’t change was that Layla and I became inseparable both in school and out. It was as if we were drawn to each other like magnets, like I had suddenly stumbled across a part of myself that I didn’t know that I’d lost. I was fourteen, but I knew what love was from the moment I met Layla Thomas. From that day, we were Christian and Layla, Layla and Christian.

The first few days were intense. We tried to keep our budding relationship to ourselves because we felt like if we shared our moment, somehow it would take away the magic that seemed to make us work.

Days turned into weeks, and during that time, I learnt a lot about Layla. I learnt a lot about her lips and her curves. I learnt that she loved taking photos. Her camera, or one of her many cameras, was an extension of her arm. She saw beauty in everything. She saw colours, quirks, and characteristics that most people glazed over. Her favourite colour was yellow. She loved daisies. She told me that she liked to collect memories. She took pictures with her camera so her mind wouldn’t forget. She was scared of forgetting, of being forgotten. But I would never forget her. I don’t know how anyone could. We created our own world. It was a world that fit in with reality but immersed us in the fantasy that people called love.