Mike gently took Layla's hand and they sat together on the couch. Thought a tension-filled moment, both were inwardly glad that they were together, alone. It was at this moment that Mike realized that his unresolved feelings for Layleta Cordelia Williams had never died out. Once saw her million dollar smile he remember how much he had pined over her..... How he had written dozens of love songs secretly inspired by her..... How much he had loved their "three minutes in heaven" on his seventeenth birthday. Mike pulled Layla into another tight hug. She looked up at him, their lips only inches apart. Mike mentally chided himself for wanted to touch those lips with his own. To feel her wonderful shape against him. < Come on Nesmith, she's one of your best friends. She's barely twenty....... She's absolutely gorgeous. >
Layla looked up at Mike, her cobalt eyes filled with an innocence Mike had never seen in any other female. She gently bit her lip and leaned closer to him. Their lips brushed momentarily. The feeling was enough to send a shock of electricity through Mike's spine strong enough to power his amp. He wanted so much to make more of the light brushing. But he pulled away quickly, Layla stood up running towards the door, picking up her guitar on the way. She called as going out the door "I'll be back later. I've got to head home."
Mike slumped into the easy chair < Way to go, Nesmith..... I bet you never see her again. >
Mike turned to the bandstand, and saw Micky, Peter and Davy pressed up the glass of the window. He motioned to them that they could come in. The trio came barreling through the door.
Mike's degenerated look did not stop the others for raving about Layla "She digs you man!" Micky cheered
"She's totally hung up on you!" Peter raved. "Do you think she'd go out with me?" Davy inquired. The three other Monkees turned to Davy, venomous eyes glaring. Davy shrugged "Sorry, I didn't know it wasn't me turn this week. Whose is it? Petah?"
Peter shook his head "It's Mike's turn." Davy's eyes widened "Whatta mean it's Mike's turn? He has a turn?" Micky pulled a long piece of parchment paper out of his shirt. He unrolled it, put on his glasses and read "This contract states that in the third season of The Monkees, Robert Michael Nesmith will have his turn to fall in love. signed by Robert Michael Nesmith, Robert Rafelson and Mr Zero." Davy shrugged "Okay...... So Mike's got the hots for Layla. Does she feel the same way?"
Micky slyly smiled "I'd say that kiss said it all." Mike sighed again and sunk even farther into the chair "If that kiss said it all, why did she run away? She hates me, I'm such an idiot. Man, she's never goin' to talk to me again."
Layla felt like hitting her head against the steering wheel of her truck. She was such an idiot! He was never going to talk to her again! But she then thought of Mike's warm brown eyes staring at her, as if looking into her soul..... The gentle smile that played around his lips..... The feel of those lips against her own....... She shivered in excitement while pulling into her driveway.
She opened the door to her house and was immediately greeted by a small mew and a soft kitten body rubbing against her ankle. Layla smiled as she bent down and picked up Mystic, her grey and black kitten. Mystic had moved with Layla all the way from Texas. She was the cutest cat imaginable and Layla loved her to bits. Unfortunately, Mr Williams, Layla's father, didn't like Mystic at all, and she spent most of the day hiding under Layla's bed while she was in class.
Layla HATED living with her father. He was a jerk, a drunk and a bum. She could see why her mother divorced him. But Layla was barely making tution, and couldn't afford to live on her own yet. Who would want to hire a twenty-year-old English Major/Musician? Maybe if she was lucky, Layla would be able to wait tables near campus.
Layla tried to tiptoe quietly up to her room, thanking the Gods she was wearing her moccasins. But Mystic yowled, and woke up Mr Williams, who was sprawled out on the couch "Where were ya?" he gruffed. Layla kept her head down as she went into the living room "I was out." "You better not have been sluttin' around, Layleta." Layla frowned "I don't slut around Dad." Mr Williams pulled himself off the couch and grabbed Layla's wrist. She winced because of the intense pain that shot through her; her wrist was going to be bruised. He pulled her close to him, smelling her breath "You've been smokin' again. I told you not to do that, Layleta!" Layla felt tears well up in her eyes, she had a cigarette on her way home. She closed her eyes tightly, not wanting to look at the monster that was her father. He slapped her hard. She recoiled, falling away from him. Mr Williams picked the small envelope that had fallen on the floor. He read the front "You saw Nesmith? That musician from Texas?" Layla bit her lip hard, nodding.
Mr Williams growled, hitting her hard in the stomach "You slut. I give you a home when you should be out on your own, and how do you repay me? You slut around with some bum musician. Bitch! You're exactly like your mother." Layla breathed "Fuck you."
But she wasn't quiet enough "What did you say, Slut-child?" He kicked her hard. She cried out in pain. She crawled on the floor, towards the doorway. Her father kicked her down to the ground. Layla finally pulled herself off the ground and stumbled up the stairs, Mystic following her.
Layla shut the door to her room tightly, sliding the lock into place. She looked in her mirror. The whole right side of her face was red, and would bruise. She wiped a tear off her cheek. This had been the tenth one-sided fight she and her father had gotten into since she had gotten to California two weeks ago. It was too much for her. Layla went to her closet, pulled her large bag out and started to pile her clothes into it. Layla didn't have many possesions, and everything was in her room. She didn't dare invade her father's territory. She even kept her toothbrush in her room. She quickly packed her things and scooped Mystic into her arms . She opened the window and climbed out, not hesitating, never looking back.