"rilaya + 113 & 124 ?"
113: "I'm gonna lay down and die for like half hour okay?"
124: "Are you wearing my shirt?"
disclaimed
...
"Rileeeyyyy," Maya whines the minute she's in the door, throwing herself onto the couch beside her girlfriend. "I'm hot."
"Yes you are," Riley throws back lazily, eyes closed. She drags one hand across her sweaty forehead, blind to the fact that all she manages to do is paste down her fly-aways. Her free hand lands on Maya's thigh, which normally would be fine, but it's at least ninety degrees in the apartment and Maya squirms away.
From the furthest corner of the couch, Maya says, "You're sweet and I love you, but stay six thousand miles away from me until October." After a minute, she squirms again, grumbling, "Even the couch is hot, jesus," as she twists, lifting one leg and then the other, her thighs sticking to the leather of her seat.
Riley waves her arm towards her again, telling her, "Just…just stop moving. You're making, like, heat energy."
Groaning, Maya slides off the couch, sprawling on the floor and letting relief wash over her when she realizes the hardwood of Riley's living room is marginally cooler. "I'm—," Maya starts with a sigh, settling against the ground, eyes closing in some futile defense against the heat. "I'm gonna lay down and die for, like, a half hour, okay?"
Maya gets little more than a hum of acknowledgment in return. When she opens her eyes again, Riley's face is right above her. "Holy shit," she startles, flinching. When she finally processes the look Riley's giving her, face all scrunched up and gaze critical, Maya asks, "What?"
"Are you wearing my shirt?"
Oh. That. Maya tugs the hem of the crop top down to cover more of her stomach self-consciously, knowing full well that the pastel They're Out There shirt is very much not a part of her daily wardrobe and had, in fact, been pilfered from Riley's vast collection of pastel crop tops.
"In my defense," Maya starts slowly, already turning red at being caught with her thievery. "It's fucking hot today."
Eyebrows drawn together, Riley squints at her. "I'm pretty sure you own tank tops."
Maya heaves a sigh. She gives a gibberish answer, stringing her words together and mumbling low.
"Didn't quite catch that, Peaches," Riley says, the corner of her mouth quirking up.
Rolling her eyes, Maya grumbles, "I said that this shirt is cute and also I like wearing your clothes."
A moment, a beat. Maya's closing her eyes again when Riley pops up from the couch. "No, Riles," Maya whines when her girlfriend grabs her hand and hauls her to her feet. "I just want to not move and try not to melt—."
"And I wanna make out with you in the back of my car with the AC blasting. Concerns?" Riley asks, eyebrows raised in challenge.
Without a word, Maya grabs Riley's keys off the coffee table and pulls her towards the door, grinning when Riley lets out a delighted giggle.'
...
"To be clear," Maya says, pulling away from a flushed Riley, her lips wonderfully kiss swollen, "I am only here for the air conditioner."
"Of course," Riley says seriously, even as she breaks into a blinding grin.
Unable to resist, Maya makes it her business to kiss that triumphant smile right off of her girlfriend's face.