"Hippie?" Warren asked for the third time. "Can I help you?"

"Huh?" Layla was startled out of her reverie.

"You're staring at me like you want me dead." Warren raised his eyebrows and leaned farther back against the tree they were sitting under during their lunch break.

"Sorry." She brushed her red curls behind her ear and bit her lip. "Can I ask you something?"

"If this is about you and Will breaking up, Magenta would be a better option," he replied without looking up from his homework. Layla sat silently for a few moments, pondering that response. He stopped writing and listened to make sure he hadn't struck a nerve.

"Actually it sort of is, but probably not how you think," she finally spoke.

"I played your boy guru once, Red, and I'm not really jumping at the chance to do it again."

"It has to be you." She frowned and for the first time, Warren actually began to notice the worry on her face.

"Fine. But keep it simple, please." He set his homework aside and moved his arms behind his head, exposing his strong muscles, something that Layla did not let go unnoticed.

"Will and I broke up because-"

"Because he was always meant to be your friend, but as life partners you have no…what was it you said?" Warren cut her off. She rolled her eyes.

"I said 'compatibility' but there was something I noticed when we were dating that made me rethink what I wanted in a relationship."

"This better get more interesting."

"Even though Gwen was evil and the whole age thing was freaky, she did have one definite advantage over me that I want to fix."

"Hippie, I can't believe you're comparing yourself to Will's psycho ex right now."

"But this is logical!" Layla promised.

"Fine." He watched her with amusement. "What advantage does she have over you?"

"Sex appeal." Layla muttered. Warren choked on his spit. This was definitely not what he had been expecting to hear.

"I'm sorry-"

"You know," Layla's words began to tumble out, a blush growing on her cheeks, "all her short skirts and long legs, lots of pink, perfumes and lotions. She was walking prepared to sleep with someone on demand."

"Have you lost your mind?" Warren stuttered. "Did you stare into the sun recently? For say, hours?"

"Warren, I'm serious! I could tell that when Will and I did anything…sexual-"

"I don't need to hear this."

"-that he had seen something before me that was better."

"Then he's an idiot. Just forget it, Layla." He spoke her name, a rare occasion.

"I'm beyond that. I think I've solved the problem." She looked almost…proud…under her still red cheeks.

"Great. So we're good then?" he started to put his stuff back in his bag, a signal to end this conversation while his sanity was intact.

"But I can't be sure I'm where I want to be without an…outside opinion." She continued on.

"Again, ask Magenta maybe." He tried.

"I need a boy's opinion," she added.

"Layla, that's fascinating, but you know I'm not the helpful kind. I'll catch up with you after class." He shouldered his bag and sauntered off. Layla watched him go and mentally made a note to get his final opinion. That night.

000000000000000000000000000

"Hey. Oof!" Layla came crashing through his window, her skirt catching on the window sill on the way in.

"It's late." Warren looked at the clock and back to her as she straightened up and brushed herself off. "I already finished my homework."

"I didn't come to do homework tonight." She sat on the edge of his bed and looked at him sitting, relaxed in his desk chair. It was now or never. "I still need an outside opinion."

"I thought we dropped this." He turned the chair around and looked at his laptop.

"Where is your mom?"

"Out. Why?" he didn't look up from the keyboard until he heard the silent 'whoosh' of clothes falling to the floor and then he looked up and in the mirror in front of him. She was standing behind him in a matching black lace lingerie set. His mouth dried up instantly and his blood went rushing down his body. He turned around slowly. She looked incredibly nervous. Had she done this with Stronghold? A sort of game? But another look at her face told him she had never been this forward before. "Um." He swallowed. "Is this a prank?"

"I need you to tell me if my sex appeal has gone up enough that even someone who had you know…done 'it' before….they'd still want me." She grew less confident with his gaze still on her. He was looking at her in a way that either spoke of hatred or intense lust. She hoped it was the second, though she didn't know what to do with the thought of that.

"You-you couldn't have just asked Magenta?" He managed to get out, running his hands over his legs repeatedly.

"I wanted an honest opinion."

"I'm not sure you do."

"Oh." Her gaze dropped. She had known there was a chance he would say that. But part of her thought that the tension between them would finally be resolved with him confirming feelings. "I can handle it."

"Your sex appeal has not gone up." He stated flatly. She bit her lip, still looking at the floor. "But that's only because," he stood, "you are already the sexiest girl I've ever met." At that her head snapped up in time to meet his lips on hers, his strong hands on her cheeks. He pulled back to look in her eyes.

"Your hands are warm." Her voice cracked.

"Did I burn you?" he asked, worried.

"No." she smiled. He looked down at her.

"Ok, maybe it did go up a little." He admitted, smirking. "But, Layla, any guy who wouldn't want you, in whatever form you are, is a complete ass."

"That's your honest opinion?"

"So honest it makes me cringe." He ran a hand through his hair.

"Then in that case, I want these," she pulled at the lace in annoyance, "off. Now."

"Gladly."