she finally likes him / part i

maya's always loved their little game. it's fun; it's fresh. and she likes being around lucas. but after a while, she likes it a little too much. and it's absolutely terrifying. / lucaya, season 2 / maya's pov. can also be called a purely headcanon/idealistic wishlist from gm creativity & onwards based off rumours and spoilers.

disclaimer: i do not own gmw.

"I don't want that for Maya. I want Maya to be happy."

The sound of Lucas's passionate voice talking about Maya Penelope Hart is enough to make everyone's heads turn. Including the blonde herself. Her eyes dilate slightly as she looks over her shoulder to see the Texan boy staring at her.

What did he just say?

An odd twinge overcomes the blonde. She doesn't really know what it is. It feels strange, and she isn't sure if she likes it.

"Hey Maya, looks like Lucas's gonna get all fired up on your behalf." That comment comes from none other than Zay Babineaux, and if Maya was already wobbling senseless with confusion, that just tipped her right off balance.

She struggles to smile, twisting her body to face Lucas properly. "Thank you Lucas, but it's just an art class."

(we all know that isn't the case.)

"I feel bad," Lucas insists. "We're taking away something you're really good at."

Stop talking Lucas.

Maya forces a small smile, and attempts to delve back into their little 'game'. "You've never said that to me before." Her tone is challenging. (she hopes.)

(of course, it isn't.)

"I've said it."

"Yeah, but not like straight to my face when you were looking at me – I can't remember you actually–"

"You're a great artist, Maya."

He said it, straight to her face when he was looking at her.

You're a great artist, Maya.

Maya Hart was silenced. Her eyes flickers down, and when they flick back up, he's still looking at her, straight at her face, with the inkling of a smile etched on his features.

"Well, he's looking at ya now."

Yes, yes he is. Maya wills herself to look at him properly, and in his eyes she can find traces of this emotion that she can't exactly describe but for some strange reason it both warms and terrifies her.

"You have a real talent," Lucas continues, ignoring Zay, "and I want you to be able to get better and share it with people."

Maya's eyes widen, and for a moment she sees Lucas a lot more clearly – a boy who is staring back at her with this sincerity and earnesty and passion that she's honestly seen on him plenty of times, but this time it kind of feels different –

"Now they're just lookin' at each other not sayin' nothin'. Are they sayin' anythin'? No. I wonder what they're thinking."

Maya isn't sure what to think, aside from the fact that she wants Zay to stop with his constant commentary. Maya isn't sure what to think, aside from the fact that –

The fact that –

"I don't want them to take away your art class Maya."

And as Lucas punctuates his point, at the pit of her stomach and in arms and her legs and her chest Maya can feel once again – that incredibly odd twinge, except this time it isn't just a twinge – it's a sensation – a rush and flood and tsunami of this strange sensation and she isn't sure what to think.

The fact that Lucas cared so much and that maybe, just maybe –

"Bay window – bay window in five hours."

Riley.

Her best friend's voice snaps her back to earth, and that she realises –

Oh my god, Riley.

She isn't sure what to think she isn't sure what to think she isn't sure what to think she isn't sure what to think –

She just knows that what she was just about to think – about Lucas – was wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. And completely unfathomable. And unrealistic. And untrue. And wrong again.

So she just turns her head slowly, blinking a little, and manages out a croaky "okay".

"So who's gonna do something about art classes?" Lucas speaks up again, clearly not done.

Maya turns her body away from him, trying to gain a little distance. "I'm sure that'll be Riley."

"Nope," Riley says, "it'll be Lucas."

"Thank you kids for your presentation. It was, uh, entertaining. After much consideration, the school board has decided, based on feedback, not to cancel the arts and music classes."

Oh my god.

A resounding cheer fills the room, and Maya cannot stop smiling.

Mrs. Vargas packs up her things, and rushes the rest of the school board out of the room, probably to engage in a heated discussion about how five kids managed to completely wreck their financial plans for the school.

Maya cannot stop smiling.

"We did it!"

She turns, and finds the Texan boy standing right beside her, his grin wide enough to rocket them all to the moon and stars.

And in that brief moment, it occurs to her that this had all happened because of him. Because he got all fired up her behalf and got everyone's help and support and rallied the masses and organised the presentation and –

This had all happened because of him.

And he had done it all for her.

And once again came that sensation, except it isn't strange this time, it's… good. It's warmth and tingles and summer waves and just butterflies.

And she cannot stop smiling.

"Yeah," she actually laughs, "we did!"

And before she knew it, he has thrown her arms around her, or maybe she threw her arms around him first, but whatever it was, they're hugging, just arms wrapped around each other in pure euphoria. And it feels strange – they've never done this before – but at the same time, it's a good kind of strange, like why haven't they done this before? Because it's warm and tingly and –

"We did it! Maya Maya your art class –"

Riley.

And like a reflex, like whenever she's with Lucas and she hears her sweet, innocent best friend's voice, she pulls away and snaps herself out of it.

She almost doesn't dare to turn and look, but she does.

And oh my god, Riley, with her complete look of puzzlement and this little kicked puppy type expression on her face, as well as remnants of the signature wide Riley grin and the will and urge to smile again –

And she does.

(and Maya heaves an inward sigh of relief.)

"Your art class! It's back! You can go paint again! You can go paint pretty paintings with mysterious doors again!"

Maya nods, her ecstasy from before returning, and a smile splits across her face. "Yes, I can Riley, yes I can!"

And as the initial elation wears off, the five friends and Riley's parents head out to celebrate at Topanga's. And as they walk through the doors, Maya feels the slightest brush of a hand on wrist, and she knows it wasn't intentional but she feels the same warmth and tingles and she knows she shouldn't be – yeah, no, she shouldn't be.

So she moves to the other end of the tight-knit group towards Riley Matthews, and the pair talk the whole way there, with Maya resisting the urge to feel the sensation of warmth and tingles and summer waves and butterflies all over again.