It's one am. New York City had been facing a torrential rain storm for the past week. Her mother and Shawn had taken a trip down to Philly last Saturday and due to weather warnings had stayed longer than she had bargained for. With phone lines down and irregular bouts of electricity, Maya had found comfort in paint. Using her school books to balance the canvas she had stole from the school library the week prior, she was in her own place. No determined shapes were seen on the canvas, just claiming watercolour strokes as she tried to forget she'd been locked up in the gritty apartment by herself for a week. The first day was fine. Microwaveable pizza was her friend and the TV was still working. Slowly but surely her Riley drought was wearing on her. Without the constant uplifting sunshine that was her best friend, she couldn't help but allow her mind to trail to the thoughts of loneliness. Enter the paints. When Maya was painting she was in her own world. The faint touch of a paintbrush to canvas brought her a sense of calm- and as the storm grew worse she was in dire need of such. The sounds of thunder echoed from outside and the rain hitting the window pane mirrored her own heartbeat. Fast. Sporadic. Irregular. She was on edge. Trying to put all her focus on to her work, she needed to block out the storm. Maya Hart is scared of nothing. Perhaps being alone. Or thunder
A harsh rapping on her window brought her out of her senses. Terrified at the noise she whirled around to face the window and in doing so pierced a hole in the only canvas she had. Brilliant. Looking through the blonde forelocks covering her eyes, she inspected the suspect behind the glass. Drenched in rain, his dirty blonde hair was plastered over his forehead whilst his blue shirt clung to every lean muscle and joint. His eyes were wild. "Open up!" He screamed, barely audible above the rain. Tugging her bedroom window up, she was hit with a gust of wind and in turn the palette she was holding fell to the floor. Even better.
"Huckleberry, you've lived here for four years now! I don't know how they do things in Texas but when the city tells you to stay inside, it's probably best!" Maya shouts whilst pulling at his collar to drag her into her room. It'd been years since she had met Lucas on the subway. Now entering their Senior Year at Abigail Adams High School, she had grown to like him. Not that she hadn't in middle school but their friendship resonated deeper now. Out of the whole gang, she had the most classes with Lucas. She saw Farkle, Zay and Riley at lunch and at Topanga's after school but due to their timetables, she was scheduled into Lucas' life a hell of a lot more often. When she told a joke at the table, her eyes would unconsciously go to his to gauging his reaction. When one of their teachers called for pairs, his hand would find her shoulder before she could even turn to someone else. They had grown dependant on the other throughout the years.
"Yeah well, my parents are back in Texas and your's I'm assuming are stuck in Philly and let me tell you, no TV can really bring a guy to insanity," he chuckled. Lucas' smile always reached his eyes. "I tried the world's oldest habit for a while but-" Smacking him across the shoulder at his crudeness she had grown accustomed to as they'd grown into adults, she bantered back. "So you thought you'd come here to get some action! Sorry buddy but Missy Bradford's is another two blocks down!" Bringing his calloused hands to scruff up the top of her hair, he chuckled. "Ha. Ha. Will I ever live that down?" Ducking under his hand, she brought the opposite end of the paintbrush to his chest. "Sundance, she named and shamed you on the third floor toilet stall. You're never living that down."
Shaking his head, his hair splattered water droplets across the room and Maya was brought to a sudden realisation. She had been able to tune out the screams of thunder and the gunshots of rain during their incessant bantering back and forth but it was now louder than ever. The water from Lucas' hair had found itself on the torn canvas and the remaining watercolours fell towards the bottom of the painting. The sounds of nature were no longer silent. She could hear every single rain droplet on the window, puncturing her calm demeanour with each bead. The crashes of thunder filled her bedroom and in a an attempt to escape it, she brought her paint covered hands to her ears. Feeling Lucas' hands make contact with her elbows, she peered through her scrunched up eyes. She was sure he was talking but all she could hear were the sounds of screaming and her own breathing quicken. Suddenly he let go. The lack of contact scaring her for a millisecond until she remembered who she was. Maya Hart. She didn't let people see what got to her. Especially not Lucas Friar, no matter how close of a relationship they had formed. Stilling her breathing, she uttered to him. "Not the biggest fan of storms. Painting was keeping me calm but- the canvas-" Realising what she was trying to say, Lucas reaches under her bed for the wooden box he had watched her use so many times before. Opening the metal clips, he reached in and pulled out the first two tubes of paint he could find- blue and yellow. Placing the paint brush she had so menacingly poked him with prior into her hand, he took refuge on her bed. Maya was stunned as she watched him attempt to roll up his soaked sleeves to no avail, and instead peel the bottom of his shirt over his head.
She had seen Lucas shirtless before. After sharing a P.E class with the boy for countless years, she had been a regular spectator to the After Class as most of the girls pegged it. The After Class consisted of Lucas and his football cronies ridding their sweat ridden tops as soon as blew the whistle. They'd then swagger agonisingly slowly towards the boys changing rooms and give the eight girls in the class a rather- simply put- nice show. Even when Maya wasn't his biggest fan in their Freshman year after he and Riley had less than amicably split from their on-again-off-again relationship, she still couldn't deny that Lucas Friar was blessed with a God given torso.
Snapping out of her gaze, she walked towards him in question. "Friar, I told you. Two more blocks from here," Maya quips in an attempt at a joke. She hoped he couldn't tell that her tongue was backtracking down her throat.
His blue eyes had darkened in tone. "Sorta my fault you don't have a canvas so..," he trailed off waving haphazardly at his bare torso. Maya couldn't help but allow her eyes to bulge. "Oh- Oh!" As she stood their awkwardly in front of him attempting to find the words to convey her thoughts, a flash of lightning lit up the room, followed by a clap of thunder. Shrinking into herself., she took what she could get.
Lucas lays back until his head hits her pillow and allows Maya access. He knew what she got like. Last Summer the gang had found themselves in a rainstorm back in Texas. At around two in the morning he heard the squeal. Then heard the footsteps. Then felt her curl up into a ball next to him. Maya Hart was strong. Seeing her anything but caused a pool of emotion to gather in his stomach.
Maya grabbed the paint tubes and slowly shifts her weight on the bed, finding stability straddling his waist. Lucas can't help but cough at the sudden intimacy of the gesture and the gyration causes Maya to scowl at him. The scowl he'd rather see than anyone else's grin. Squeezing a minuscule ball of paint from the tube, she uses the skin above his hip bones as her palette. Dipping her brush in, Lucas offers her his arm with a faint smile toying at his lips.
"Off we go." He breathes.
"My canvas' are usually silent. Let's keep it that way."
She's thankful for the harsh sounds of rain. He won't be able to hear her heartbeat pound as she leans towards his shoulder. She begins with a swirl. No picture is formed, just bright blue patterns adorn his taunt arm until she reaches his palm. The faint movements of the paintbrush against her new canvas, even out her heart rate. Almost. The fear of the rain has now been replaced by the fear of Lucas. She paints the entire back side of his hand. Focusing on dragging the brush up each finger and allowing the paint to settle in each indent. Maya brings her hand to his wrist and draws it to his chest. Picking it up, Lucas looks down at his chest and sees his handprint now printed above his nipple. He watches her as she is now engrossed in his other arm. Doodles that look less like doodles but more like masterpieces are etched out. In all honesty, Lucas thinks Maya could paint a faint line across his chest right now and he'd rival it to the works of Van Gogh.
She can feel Lucas' eyes burn into her own. She notes that throughout this whole process he's only looked down at what she's created twice. The rest of the time his view has solely been her. Looking at her work, she deduces she's covered both his arms. Now his chest. Shifting position, she leans father down his chest- almost covering his abdomen fully. Slowly she draws the yellow tube of paint from beside his head and pools the remaining color into the indent of his clavicle.
He's never had her so close to him. He's been in closer and less clothed situations with girls before but Lucas can't help but notice this is the closest he's been to Maya. Compared to the situations he had found himself with Missy Bradford a couple months back, this was agonisingly more sensual. All she was doing was painting but as he watched her eyes squint in focus and her teeth draw in her lip due to nervous habit, Lucas think he's never seen Maya look so beautiful as she did now. In an attempt to shake his thoughts, he diverts his attention from her to her artwork. She's written in mirror form at him. "THANKS LUKE" in bright yellow paint decorate his chest and that was about the moment all previous inhibitions were lost. Pulling the brush from her, he flips her onto her back and switches positions with the petite blonde.
Attempting to gage her reaction, all he can focus on are her eyes. Wide and ready. A flash of lightning, lights up the room. Maya's hair looks as though it's on fire with splashes of blue sticking to her forehead.
"Hey- Sundance, if you wanted a turn, you could've just asked.." Maya provokes him. His larger frame should be crushing her, but all Maya notices is Lucas' lips.
Coughing awkwardly, Lucas tries to explain himself for his sudden outburst. "You- you called me Luke."
"There wasn't enough space for Luc-" Cutting her off, Lucas brings his lips to hers with urgency. New and inviting. This wasn't a first kiss. They didn't kiss in fear of breaking the other. They kissed with wild abandon. Years of pent up aggression and dependancy spill from their own lips and into the others. Maya brings her hands up to circle around his neck in an effort to tug him any closer than he already was. Lucas kisses with a smile. She can feel the awkward clash of his teeth every other moment, but knowing he was grinning because of her- he was so ecstatic he couldn't help but smile brought shivers to the ends of her fingertips and caused her toes to curl. Maya kissed as though she should come with a warning label. She was all hands, meeting his hips with her own. He was suffocating in the feeling of her and he deemed this would be the best way to go. Peeling back from her, Lucas attempts to piece together the moment. To burn this memory permanently into his mind.
Maya cut off his inner monologue with a laugh. Smacking him upside the head, he looks at her with confusion. Looking down at the blonde beauty, he notices the blue handprint that must've transferred from his chest which was now covering her breast. Laughing at the circumstance, he feels comfortable next to her. "Guess you didn't need to travel the extra two blocks, huh Huckleberry?" The previous wide eyes of fear have been replaced with the threatening glint he loves. Eyes he hopes stay trained on him until the rain ceases.