A/N: So, I got this idea from how forced Riley's feelings for Lucas seem and it's Godawful so I'll try again later.
Lucas isn't what she wants. Not if she's honest. He seems perfect enough for her to at least pretend to like him. He's exactly what other girls fantasize about; tall, handsome, kind.
But she doesn't want him, not like that. He's a great friend, of course, but that's all she can feel about him.
Riley Matthews can't force the spark she wants. No in way matter how hard she tries to, it won't click into place, those feelings she insists are dormant inside her every night, before she goes to bed, won't come to life. She can't do it. She can't be the perfect little girl who loves normal things and crushes on the cute boy and has normal sleepovers with her best friend.
She's supposed to be daddy's little girl. But daddy's little girl is supposed to be straight.
She cringes and the knife slips, cutting her. Her blood is getting on the oranges she was going to eat. Damn it, why did she think that? She's fucking straight, she is. She loves Lucas and wants to marry him, not . . . Not her.
I refuse to be . . . That. I'm not gay.
"Riley!" Maya's here?
"Come in!" Riley yells, rushing over to the door.
Maya looks gorgeous, as usual. It makes Riley's stomach twist and twirl in ways she pretends Lucas does.
"Oh, my God, Riles, you're bleeding! What happened? Who touched my girl?" Maya exclaims, grabbing the brunette's hand to examine the wound.
Her girl? Oh, God. "Nothing, Maya, I just cut myself while I was cutting some oranges. I kind of bled on them though so I guess I can't eat them now," she admits, trying not to blush at her best friend's touch. She isn't gay, she likes boys. She likes Lucas.
"Why haven't you cleaned it yet?" The blonde asks.
"I was going to," she murmurs, "but then you got here."
"Let's go clean it up now then," Maya suggests.
The blonde cleans the wound with care and delicacy. All the little, brief touches send shivers up Riley's spine. Something about it drives her crazy. She tries and tries to repress it, convince herself she's just imagining things, that it's nothing, that she's straight.
Daddy wouldn't be very happy if she wasn't straight, after all. She knows that no one would be very happy with her if she wasn't, that Maya would freak out and leave her, people would write dyke on her locker.
It's happened before.
She didn't tell Maya, she cleaned her locker off before anyone could see it. It was humiliating, it was a filthy lie. She couldn't let anyone see something so shameful—what if they believed it!?
She wouldn't be perfect then, she wouldn't be daddy's little girl. And she has to be daddy's little girl. She has to be perfect.
And perfect girls like boys like Lucas Friar. Perfect girls are straight.
I want a two story house with a picket fence, Lucas to be my husband, three kids, and my kids to be best friends with Maya's kids. She repeats every night before she goes to bed. And it's the truth. She isn't . . . That.
Riley Matthews is straight.
She has to be.
But then why is she holding Maya's hand while they watch TV in their pajamas? She lets go of Maya's hand, quickly, like it burns her flesh.
"You okay, Riles?" She asks.
"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine," the brunette lies.
Just like she lies to herself.
Everyone would hate her otherwise. Especially Maya. And God knows what Riley would do without her best friend in her world.
"Good," Maya says, wrapping an arm around Riley.
Her world stops and she could just die, daddy's little girl or not.
reviews are appreciated.