A/N: So this is another GMW multi-chapter fic that I'm getting underway. I think this started out as a blurb, a couple sentences that went into the first paragraph below (and I think it was actually going to be an LWD fic at one point before I sort of altered it toward this fandom), and then I kind of ran with it. It's sort of in the style of one of my previous LWD fics (His Happily Ever After) what with the parenthetical asides, although these ones are more elaborate and this isn't first person ramblings. I think this does most of the set up for itself, so I'll leave you to it. Enjoy! R&R! Thanks! ~Mac
P.S. This first chapter and the following two were written pre-season 3 (and actually probably mid-Season 2 as well, past Texas, but probably before New Year's. I can't really remember exactly), so I would say it's a good AU story track after Texas, wherein, given the time jump into future fic territory, it should be assumed that in high school the "triangle, not-triangle" was never adequately resolved in any direction. Chapters four and on are being written post the season 3 premiere so some elements might be alluded to but the plot arcs of season 3 will be disregarded. This is all just FYI at this point, so on with the story! Enjoy.
P.P.S. If the previous notes weren't an indication, this was, of course, started before the cancellation of the show. It's part of the reason it's been so long since I've posted anything, even though I have stuff piled up in my to type/post folder, but I'm not giving up on these guys season four or no season four. I'll be writing about them until I find something else that inspires me as much as they do, if that ever happens, even if there's no one else left to read it. Anyway, onward with this story, which at this time is completely written and ready to go. Hopefully you'll be seeing most of it soon.
Disclaimer: I don't own GMW.
...And Things Like Chemistry
One
Maya is more than a little intoxicated when she crosses paths with Lucas at the party (if asked, that's what she'll blame the end result on, one hundred percent). She hasn't seen him in person since Riley's going away party, which was at least six weeks ago (or was it seeing Farkle off at the airport, which would have been a month—was it an airport? Maybe it was a train station. Riley was the airport. Maya's too far gone to bullshit her way through a field sobriety test, so she's not a reliable source of information at the moment. The key point here is there have been thirty some odd days since she's seen his Huckleberry face and that's an important detail when it comes to what happens next). So, when her equally tipsy roommate introduces them, it kind of feels like starting over.
"Hey, girlie, this is the guy I was telling you about, from my poli sci class," Kendall says, pointing vaguely behind her and then lunging to grab him by the arm and drag him forward into view. "Maya Hart meet Lucas Friar."
She can see his confession on the tip of his tongue (it's a metaphor, mind you, she can barely make out the nose on her face), but she speaks first. Words drip out without ever crossing her mind (they do not stop for inspection, shed shoes and belts and loose change to accommodate an intensive check. No, they sneak through, hijack her mouth and send her tongue into a nose dive. Collision imminent, in five, four—explosions, mass carnage, BOOM—and man, she is much better at metaphors with a little alcohol in her veins than she ever imagined. Back to the doomsday counter...three, two, one…).
"Nice to meet you, Lucas," Maya smiles (to be polite, that's what people do, or so she's told) and reaches out a hand for him to shake. "Kendall has told me so much about you. It's like we're best friends already."
He thinks she's joking at first, her vision clears enough for her to see that flash in his eyes, but then he realizes she's being serious, or as close to it as she has ever managed. He sees that she's actually pretending not to know him and he shakes her offered hand. (Now, here she'll pause to put on the record that he has to shoulder some of the blame because he's the Moral Compass, he's Lucas the Good. He's supposed to know better. But he plays along. That's on him).
"it's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, ma'am."
He lays it on thick with the phony exaggeration of his barely there accent and the ma'am (that's the kicker, really it is. It's his way of giving her an out. It's her chance to laugh it off, make a joke of it and reveal their history, possibly with a slew of humiliating and hilarious Ranger Rick tales. And she almost loses it over it, but for some reason, she's able to stay in check. No one is more amazed than her). He's toying with her, probably more than she is doing in return, but she started this, so she supposes that she deserves it.
…
There's more to it than Maya being drunk and having not seen Lucas in at least a whole month (even though it's the first time she's been this drunk, and this is the first time she's gone this long with out seeing the Cowboy since she met him on the subway that fateful day in middle school, and, in the moment, the coinciding of these two events feels like reason enough). It starts long before then, the path that leads them to where they are no. So, she should really start at the start if she wants anything to make sense (although, none of this makes sense, and retracing her steps is gonna do very little to make it make sense, so she should say screw it, but she's fighting for some kind of perspective through her alcohol induced haze, and that's better than nothing. Anyway, here it goes…).
It starts with a letter, not even one for or from Maya, oddly enough. It is the letter carrying the news of Riley's acceptance to UC Berkeley, to be exact. Riley had applied to an absurd number of universities (Maya remembers spending days lounging on Riley's bed or in the bay window with a magazine or other distraction, while Riley agonized over obscenely vague application essay topics like "describe a place where you are perfectly content" or "recount a time when you experienced failure." There was a lot of Riley banging her head on her desk and balling up paper to toss aside despite working exclusively on her computer. It was a stressful time) and she is accepted to several of them—but not one of those other letters gets the reaction this one does. Riley tears it open and issues an inaudible gasp, because she sucks in a gulp of air so sharply that it's impossible for any sound to escape. Then she is bounding around the apartment, ricocheting off of walls and furniture, and squealing so loudly that there's no way the neighbors aren't convince that a murder is in progress. It's then that Maya knows she is losing her best friend to the Golden coast and there's nothing she can do to change that.
Riley is still running on high octane about Berkeley ("I'm gonna be a California girl, Peaches. Like Marissa Cooper! Only without the alcoholism or the dying tragically—" "—or the fictional thing—" "—so maybe nothing like her, but still! Four plus years of sunshine—" "—and earthquakes—" "—and surfing and the Golden Gate Bridge! California, Maya, California!") when Farkle finds out that the entire Ivy League wants him, although that's hardly surprising. He's on his way to Massachusetts with the prestige of being a Harvard boy. After that it's like an epidemic of people escaping the city. Zay chooses to head back to Texas. Smackle's going to Yale, because she's grown to enjoy being at rivaling schools with Farkle. Charlie is moving west too, but toward the rains of Washington rather than the sunshine state. Even Missy says something about Florida, Maya thinks. She stops listening after awhile (because all that really matters is that Riley is going to be across the country from her, not just for a day or a week, but four years, multiple years, because she's in at NYU and it was always going to be the City for her) until the only person left to announce their decision is Lucas. She's waiting to hear that he's leaving her behind too (because, of course, he is. He's had schools wanting to recruit him for his arm and batting average since forever. There are scholarships on the table. These things are dream worthy). Only he chooses not to leave. He chooses NYU too (because sports were great in high school, fun, and maybe baseball would have been a ticket to a better school—read: a more expensive school—but it's not his future, and he wants nothing to distract his focus from his education). All Maya hears is that she's not going to be alone.
Only, the semester starts and she's kind of alone anyway. It's not purposeful. They just don't see each other, for no other reason than they're busy (or Lucas is busy and Maya keeps up the illusion of being busy. It's amazing how much time is freed up in her schedule without Riley around to fill it. This is probably a hint at how their lives had been too closely entangled before, to the point of being unhealthy, but there's no worry about that now). There are her classes, of course, settling in, and studying—perhaps for the first time in her life by her own motivation. (She has to do things for herself, by herself, on her own now and she's actually happy to, she's proud of herself for that, even if it is so much work). Somewhere along the way, their friendship, no longer anchored by their relationships with Riley or Farkle or Zay, gets set aside for later. She imagines they both assume that it's something they'll return to later when things have calmed down, but until then, a month goes by.
Maya meets Kendall the week after Riley flies away, Berkeley bound, and it's not an instant connection, but it's close enough. Kendall is a lot like Riley, but also not at all at the same time. Kendall is that kind of peppy that needs an outlet, lest all that bubbly enthusiasm burst the person open from the inside out. Maya is well acquainted with that kind of excitable energy, and it feels familiar (which is good since everything else in her life feels strange, foreign and entirely new). The differences between her roommate and her best friend start with their chosen outlets. Riley expends her enthusiasm on innocent things, like optimism and hope, puppies and bunnies, the future and fairytale romance (yes, they've all grown up over the years, but Riley retains more of that naive, pure hearted joy than the rest of them. They've all toughened up a little, hardened, taken on sharper edges. Not Riley. She's all soft, smooth edges and fluff. The only thing new that Riley claims is a fierce bravery that leads her toward her next adventure). Kendall is decidedly not innocent, and once Maya's hooked in by the similarities to the best friend that is currently two thousand, eight hundred, ninety five and a half miles away (to be exact, she checks, thank you Google Maps), it's this part of her roommate that draws her in closer. It's the part of Kendall that is maybe a little more like Maya (like maybe the universe realized Maya and Riley were meant to be one person but by some filing error, they had been split in two, so Kendall was made to correct the mistake with all their best bits mashed together. It's a silly notion—and maybe another clue that they were a little too co-dependent—but hey, Maya has a friend now that feels like home, like a kindred spirit, and she's not gonna complain).
Where Riley is all about finding Mr. Right, her Prince Charming, however long it takes (and this is not an exaggeration. Last year, Riley had told Maya an engaging story about a couple of senior citizens finding their soul mate in their eighties at a nursing home. With tears in her eyes, and not a trace of irony in her voice, Riley said, "That could be me"), Kendall is grounded in the present (she doesn't use the term Mr. Right Now, but she is all about instant gratification). Kendall claims to have been a cheerleader in another life—as if the summer between high school and now wasn't so much a season but a period of rebirth—and that in that past life she had a total of one boyfriend because where she's from (and it's here where she waves vaguely in the direction of the Midwest) the cheerleader dates the football player, their lives peak somewhere around Thanksgiving in their senior year when their team gets knocked out of the playoffs, and then it's all downhill from there (and by downhill she means a hometown community college, marriage, kids, resentment for holding each other back from pipe dreams even they never ever intended to follow through on with or without each other's interference, a cheating scandal, threats of divorce, lather, rinse, repeat—you know, the usual). But Kendall gets out, breaks the cycle (maybe because her dreams are a little more attainable, or maybe because, "And Maya, he wasn't even like the cutest guy there was. I mean, if I'm gonna tie myself down, I should at least like what I have to look at every morning. He would have gotten all of this," she waves her hand circularly around herself "and I get what? A beer gut at seventeen? Nope, nope. That imbalance alone would have done more damage to our relationship than crappy jobs with crappy pay and three accidental pregnancies. No, I was out of there. One foot across the county line since I was born." These are the actual things the girl says, unprovoked, as the two sit in their dorm room each half focused on their reading assignments and papers. She makes Maya laugh, which is such a pleasant contrast to the times Maya wants to be depressed and collapse from exhaustion and isolation). Now that Kendall has shed her former life, she's flourishing. She has an in with all the sororities, despite her refusal to pledge any of them. She's a master at securing an invite (to literally anything. Parties, concerts, bars they shouldn't be able to get into, someone's cousin's son's bar mitzvah—they don't go to that last one, but Kendall got them on the list somehow for reasons unknown. She's like a stage magician and Maya doesn't want to know the trick behind the illusion, because it would diminish the air of magic that surrounds Kendall). At each of these occasions there is a guy—usually a different one each time, but sometimes a couple have a little staying power—and Kendall makes juggling classes, work, a social life and "relationships" look so easy.
Everything in Maya's life is changing and everything is harder than she ever expected, and Kendall makes this one thing seem so easy. Maya needs easy, for a night, hell for a couple hours even. So, when Kendall starts to describe this guy from her poli sci class ("he's heart thumping attractive. I'm serious. He's got these eyes that are so intense, like you've got his full attention. Who does that? And, and he's got this sugary sweet exterior, but, maybe it's a hunch, maybe it's just instinct, I think it's covering up this edge of danger to him. This guy is full of surprises. I know it. I have a talent for fishing out who's got something unexpected up their sleeve and who doesn't. Like my ex? I could smell the boring on him. This guy could be fireworks, Maya. Pure sparkling, Fi-yah"), Maya is intrigued. Despite Kendall's gleaming seal of approval, she claims he's not her type. She says this guy seems like a long game type of guy and that's just not her thing a the moment ("I like to roll the dice, grab a few Chance cards, maybe take a ride on Reading Railroad and linger in the Free Parking, but I've never seen a game all the way through. I lose interest around Marvin Gardens. I never walk the Boardwalk. I'm not a Pass Go kind of girl, if you know what I mean." "I rarely have any idea what you mean." But now Maya realizes where her metaphor savvy is coming from). Kendall believes he's more Maya's speed, and that a night out with maybe a little more company than just them girls is exactly what Maya needs. The poli sci guy is going to be at this party Kendall knows of, because she invited him, so they go and that's the beginning of the mess.
Maya goes mostly because it's a Saturday night and, for the first time in a month, she's not entirely swamped with coursework and readings. She could use a little bit of fun and stress relief. She lets Kendall persuade her into three or four more shots than she should have knocked back. Her head is practically a separate entity, floating and hazy and sustained entirely by tequila, by the time Kendall gets around to making the introduction. Everything has become like a boulder rolling down a mountain since Riley chose Berkeley, taking out everything in its path and only gaining more momentum as it goes. It shouldn't be a surprise that it has culminated in something like this.
…
"Isn't he gorgeous?" Kendall asks, with the fondness of a mother presenting her honor student for praise, and takes his jaw in her hand. She laughs lightly, shaking his head by his chin until he laughs as well, and pats his cheek as she releases him. "I'd keep him for myself if I didn't already have a little somethin' somethin' already waiting for me over there."
"He's pretty good looking for a Cowboy," Maya says, her eyes never leaving Lucas's even as Kendall draws attention to herself by re-situating her dress as she preps herself to return to whatever guy has her brief attention (Maya wants to call him Huckleberry, she can feel it on her tongue, ready to spill out, but she knows that's too personal, too Maya and Lucas when there's not supposed to be a Maya and Lucas yet; it'll expose them).
"I assume there's a compliment in there somewhere," Lucas says. "So, thank you."
"Maya's a cutie, don't you think, Lucas?" Kendall prompts. Her eyes trail over to the other side of the room. She's about to bail—all the signs are there, Maya has learned them well over the last few weeks—but she's gonna lay some groundwork before she does.
Maya raises an eyebrow at Lucas, an unspoken challenge as she waits for his response.
"I'm pretty sure cute does not suffice," Lucas's gaze is intense (and damn, how could Kendall be so accurate about his eyes and manage to let sharing his name slip her mind?)
Maya's face warms, and she'll blame the alcohol free flowing in her veins but she knows it's because in all the time she's known him, he's never looked at her like that (his eyes on her had gotten a little charged back when they had that mild flirtation back in middle school, but not like this. Of course, when she was in middle school, she had never worn a barely there dress that dipped low at the neck and rode high on the thigh. Nor had he witnessed her soaring with liquid courage). There has never before been a moment when she felt this sexy in her skin, this splayed open and raw, but still so entirely in charge of her body. God, he makes her feel so good, electrified and humming with untapped power, and he does it with a few words and a gorgeous stare. She wonders if this is spawned from the freedom of making each other's acquaintance over again (they can shed their history, any of the baggage they carry, and that is terrifying and exhilarating because there's no telling what could happen).
Kendall glances between them with a smirk playing across her lips. "I think my work here is done. I'll be on my way, because my diversion for the evening does have an expiration date. I'll see you in the morning, Maya. Take care of my girl, Lucas."
Kendall waggles her fingers in a delicate wave as she bounces away, off to have her fun for the evening. Maya isn't sure what her roommate expects to happen, especially since she believes they're total strangers (and, honestly, Maya wishes she had some hint at what Kendall thinks because she has no clue what to expect herself), but she disappears into the crowd before Maya can ask. There's dance music blaring, a game of beer pong happening to their left, and dozens of people in various stages of intoxication all around them, but suddenly it's like it's just them.
"So..." Maya trails off, swaying slightly.
Lucas searches her eyes and flashes a lopsided smile. "What do we do now?"