She walks down the hallway with her blonde hair pulled away from her face in a loose ponytail, each step precise and calculated. He could see the gears in her mind whirring. He watches from his locker as her ponytail bounces with every step she took, her blue eyes blank with emotion. She didn't look sad- not by any means. She just looks like her mind was in another universe; she looks like she belonged in another universe.
She is both the devil and an angel, filled to the brim with crooked smiles and empty promises. She is a plethora of contradictions, one of them being her name: Maya Hart. Lucas was sure she didn't have one the moment she stomped all over his and smiled afterwards, and asked if they could still be friends. It wasn't like he was going to say no- he was way too deep to deny anything that came from her lips.
She is coming towards him now, with her lips coated in red and her hands clenched up into fists at her sides. She seems friendly enough, but he's known her long enough to catch her stiff posture and controlled breathing. I'm sorry, she wants to say. She has too much pride and not enough love to admit that maybe her and him could've worked out. That maybe she was just a scared little girl that ran and ran until no one could catch up with her.
It comes out, "Hey."
He stares down at her and she looks like a goddess- pieces of her golden hair have strayed away from her ponytail and are now framing her face, giving her a childlike innocence. He tries not to sneer. I want to hate you, he wants to say. He wants to hate her for slowly making her way into his heart and mind and destroying both of them. Not at the same time, though. She destroys his mind when the words "I don't think this is working out," tumble off of her tongue and knocks him off of his feet. He tries to steady himself afterwards, and when he finally has both feet on the ground, she goes after his heart too.
I want to hate you so bad, he wants to say.
It comes out as a stiff, "Hi."
She smiles as if she knows what's going on in the baseball player's mind, but she knows she doesn't. She doesn't want to know, either. She nods, mostly to herself, and takes a subtle step back. Though band aids may fix cuts and scrapes, the broken heart that sat inside of his hollow ribcage has to be healed by time.
Maybe she broke his heart long before they were done. She reminds herself that it was for the best. She would slice away at his insides with her sharp tongue and daggers for eyes, and pull the rug from under his feet with her calloused hands and bitten fingernails. Leave, she tells herself, before he realizes she was never worth scarring for.
Please forgive me, she wants to say. "What's up?"
He wants to turn away but something in her eyes makes him stay rooted to the ground. It has always been that way; he has always been in the palm of her hands and she never has had any qualms with closing it.
I need space, he wants to say.
He has a game this afternoon and no doubt about it, the interaction would be on his mind all day. What could she possibly want? It's like she doesn't realize that she is holding his heart in her hands right in front of him.
"Nothing," he comes out rougher than he intends it to be, and he clears his voice. Her eyes flutter to the ground for a millisecond and he takes it as his chance to look away.
She sighs softly, and she doesn't know how to continue this conversation. She doesn't know why she initiated the conversation in the first place. Maybe because she misses how easy it was to talk to him. She frowns because it's anything but easy to talk to him, now. It's easier this way, she thinks. The broken girl could never have a happy ending, anyway.
She wants to say that maybe they could talk after school when she's interrupted by a loud sigh.
He says being friends isn't working out, and he closes his locker. She fights the tears that find their way into her eyes because Maya Hart does not cry, and she purses his lips. She swallows down any emotion that threatens her nonchalant persona, because she's that type of girl. The kind that bottles up their emotions only for them to overflow and wash away everything and everyone they love.
I love you. "Bye," he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck.
I wanted to give you everything. "See you around," she replies, regret bubbling in her throat. She walks away before he even has the chance to. He gets deja vu.
Leave, she tells herself, before he realizes she was never worth staying for.
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