layout credit to jessiekate and honorable mention to vicki because i discovered it through her, lol. :p 

☆Name: Layla Caviness
Country from: Originally Lebanon, grew up between London and Paris 
Birthdate: 26. July 1989 
Bio: Layla is what happens when you throw a terrified and socially awkward girl with mental issues into the world. When you first meet her, you won't realize how hard she's trying to pretend that everything is okay. She's constantly keeping herself under control even though that makes her seem like the odd one. At first sight, she seems arrogant and a huge bitcch but once you get to know her, you'll see how wrong you were about her.
Layla is a very sensitive personality. She looks closely at the body language of someone and depending on it, she moves. If she feels someone is bored of her, she'll back off. Since she's rather the shy, quiet girl in the background, most people don't even acknowledge her. She's the quiet observer, underestimated until she opens her mouth. Something about her is intriguing and different, an aura that shows. Once she has gained enough confidence and she knows who she's dealing with, she'll open up. 
Only the few people who care enough to get to know her realize that that is just a wall and that there's actually someone behind it. Something in her past taught her the hard way, that your life can change in the blink of an eye and you are suddenly alone. She hates it. It destroyed her. And she promised herself to never get into a situation like this.
She's rather one of the intellectual kind ; she reads a lot of books, she could spend a lot of time at home watching a movie or just staring into space. She has a problem with simply letting herself go and generally trust issues. She's full of conflicts. She constantly changes, there's no stability in her life and with her. She's the best listener you'll ever know ; she's an only child and friends are sacred to her, she's giving them her all. She keeps her feelings bottled up and eventually, she explodes. When you get to know, she's loud, lively, honest, warm, sarcastic, intelligent, passionate – signs of her origin. She'll love you or hate you. You'll love her or hate her. She's exciting, different, a mystery. She doesn't have many friends ; she has a few very good ones. Most people look through her. Only a few stay. 
Model: Rosie Huntington Whiteley
Taken by: colormeamazing

top three models:
first: rosie huntington whiteley
second: alessandra ambrosio
third: minka kelly 

I shifted impatiently from one foot to the other. I looked down at my shoes and up again at the guy. Slowly, he looked up from my pass and looked at me. I bit back the urge to kill him and simply smiled the I-just-bit-into-a-pillow-smile. He didn't return my smile and very slowly, he looked back at the pass. Slowly, he turned the page. Slowly, he chewed his gum. Slowly, he inspected it.
Slowly, I was losing it.
"What's the problem?" The words shut out of my mouth. I wasn't even trying to keep myself under control anymore, I was dying, he was killing me.
And still, somehow, he found it in his freakish French coolness to remain calm. "Why, anything to hide Miss-" he was about to go search for my name in the passport again when I interrupted him. 
"Miss Caviness. Nothing to hide. May I go?"
"Why so quickly?", he added, but I wasn't listening to him anymore.
I'd seen him. I felt a smile spread on my face and immediately, my eyes were tearing up. I smiled and smiled and smiled. He saw me, the so familiar smile spreading on his face. 
"Please", I added without taking my gaze off him. 
The security man seemed to be considering it, but then he gave me my pass back. Once I had it in my hands, I ran.
I ran through the airport, through the gate and into his arms. I pressed my face against his chest, buried it while hugging him as tight as I could. I smiled when I inhaled his familiar smell , Armani Code. 
He took a step back and looked at me, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"What?!", I said, a bit too loud, a bit too happy, a bit too excited.
He chuckled. "I'm just observing your … getup."
I hit his arm. "Shut up! I love the shoes!"
"Oh, those are shoes?"
"No comment."
He put an arm around me, kissed me on the top of my head and we walked together outside the airport. Once we were outside the airport, he stopped to take a cigarette out of his pocket. 
"You really need to stop."
"How have you been?"
"I'm serious, you need to stop. Just in biology and it said how it kills you seven years before your 'supposed' age like .. at 57! And cancer! And self suicide somehow and god-"
"So this is it?"
I bit on my lip. "What?", I said, swallowing hard.
"This is why you wanted to come visit me in the middle of the week?"
I didn't have to answer, he understood it. "Hey, baby. I know. I know all of this. And I-"
"So you choose to put your life at risk just for the sake of your friggin enjoyment?", I spat out.
He stared at me. I flinched a bit, I'd been a bit too harsh.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to s-"
"What's it really, Layla?"
I stared back at him. And then I stopped trying and let the tears come. I let him pull me in a hug and I inhaled his smell again.
"I've missed you so much, Dad."

I stormed out of the café and just walked. I walked and walked and walked until the anger wasn't taking my breath away and then I sat down on the pavement and waited. I wasn't waiting for anything, I just waited. Then I took my cellphone out of my bag and dialed his number. 
I smiled. God, his voice was so him. "Hey, dad."
"Everything okay?"
I tried to say something but I felt like choking. This was a bit too much, one of those I should have never gotten out of bed days. 
"Nounou? What's wrong?"
I still couldn't speak. This was going to be the hardest thing ever. 
"Layla, come on. What's it? You are sca-"
"I'm leaving."
Now it was my turn to be scared. "Dad?"
He didn't answer. Shit, his blood pressure. I felt like on a roller coaster, my stomach wasn't there anymore. Oh god, if something happened to him.
"Dad?", I choked out. "Dad, please say something. Dad, look, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry. Just say something? Please? I'll stay. Just say so-"
"I have one condition. And stop crying, I'm healthier than you'll ever be."
I had to smile. "Shit, dad, you scared me."
"Yeah? The whole dramatized 'I'm leaving' didn't send me to hell and back." 
"What's the condition?"
"Call me. Everyday. And tell me everything. And no boys."
"Deal. I prefer men anyway."
"Chill, dad."
"Don't Chill Dad me! Promise?"
"Oh, come on, Dad."
"Ughnjwef. But I want all details on him."
"On them."
"What, maximum capacity one?"
"Well. His hair is gorgeous. It's thick and brownish and-"
"Oh, god, dad. Bye."
"Bye. And him!"
"Sure thing, dad."
"Take care."
"And Lay?"
"Where are you going?"
I stopped. Uhm. I was sitting here on the pavement between two parked cars, my mom would be running out of the café any minute and I needed a place to go to. I'd always wanted to go to Brazil. Brazil was exotic and hot boys and oh boy, no. China! But China was too far away, and coach roaches. No. Maybe a road trip through America. Or back to Lebanon and the region. Or maybe do it all.
And then I had the idea.
"I don't like the sound of that. What?"
"Remember the brochure we saw when I was in London? The last time?"
"The one about the Restaurant? What does it ha-"
"Nooo!", I groaned. God. 
"Mh, I'm confused."
"The one about that cruise? When we made funs of those fools that would do it?"
Silence. "Oh."
"Yeah. What if I'm a fool?"
Silence again. Then he answered. "You sure as hell are a fool, baby. Go for it."
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