A/N: This is my newest one shot. It was written pre-season 3, before the non triangle and it's non resolution and the whole ridiculous Maya Identity Crisis storyline, and as such is sort of AU for anything that happened after season 2. The only thing that affects is that this story "assumes" that there never was a real resolution/conflict over the triangle-non triangle. This actually started as a New Girl fic for Jess x Nick after their first kiss on that show, but I never finished the blurb, so I adjusted it for the Girl Meets World characters and I finally got around to typing up and posting it. I will probably eventually work on some one shots that address Season 3 in the future, but until then, enjoy this one. R&R! Thanks! ~Mac
Disclaimer: I don't own GMW or the lyrics to Hellogoodbye's "All of Your Love" which inspired the title.
Unless I'm Feeling Your Heartbeat
"This is the stupidest drinking game that has ever existed," Maya declares.
Does this declaration matter in the slightest? No. Is it going to change anything about the situation she has found herself in? Absolutely not. Is that going to stop her from repeating it at least three more times while she tries and fails to come up with some other way to talk herself out of this? That would be a complete and resounding no fucking way. Not on her life. Nope. No.
"Seriously, we've all seen what the effects of King's Cup have done to Riley. We stopped playing that when we realized that we were all better off not knowing that she was capable of pulling off an elaborate strip tease to Disney classics—"
"Thanks for bringing that up, Peaches," Riley covers her face with her hand, hiding the flush that was half embarrassment and half straight up intoxication.
"—and Beer Pong got nixed when Zay attempted that trick shot and put himself through our TV—"
"Hey, I won that round and Farkle got blasted," Zay replies, thrusting his beer in the air and grinning in the ghost of past triumph.
Farkle rolls his eyes, "And you got electrocuted."
Zay shrugs, "worth it."
"—so no, I'm not doing this. This is my limit. This game has got to go," Maya completes her speech with her hip set and her arms crossed over her chest. Her pout and scowl is going to have literally no effect on any of her friends—each one ranging in levels from tipsy Riley to Billy passed out behind the potted plants—but she employs it anyway.
It's useless, this argument. A thousand times over, it's useless. In fact, her points are practically counter productive. This game exists entirely as a result of all the other drinking games they've had to ban from the apartment. Farkle's scientific precision at quarters had nearly sent them all to the ER with alcohol poisoning on at least two separate occasions. Beer Pong had gone the same way because they couldn't afford to keep replacing the things Zay broke. Missy's ability to hone in on the aces and to chug a drink like no one else had turned King's Cup into a war-zone of musical chairs to set as close to her as possible because being at the end of the waterfall was problematic; so it had to go. They had turned to Never Have I Ever as a sort of last resort, because they were adults and had left that sort of thing behind them in high school, but it soon became clear that there weren't enough nevers between them to make it interesting. Most rounds had ended with Riley curled up and asleep in Charlie's lap—not because she had passed out but because she was sober and bored—and the rest of them getting maliciously specific to target each other's hilarious secrets. Even that had gotten old because as it turned out no one wanted to know the details of Missy and Billy's sex life, or what kind of strange fantasies Zay had admitted to. So this game without a name—at least not one they could agree upon—had been created by them to mix in aspects of all the games but with rules that eliminated any unfair advantages or issues. For awhile it had been fun, very entertaining, even if they couldn't always agree on the rules. It's funny that Maya and Lucas were the only ones who had never fallen victim to the other drinking games and are now both thrust into the spotlight by this one.
"You have to," Missy says. She has a disinterested look on her face as she holds her cup in one hand and scrolls through her phone absently with the other. "We've all had to do it at least once and not always with someone we wanted to. No offense, Zay."
Zay shrugs, "Not like you were my first choice either, Sugar Pie."
Missy rolled her eyes and snickers. "You loved it."
Zay glances over at where her boyfriend is cuddling with the potted plant in the corner. Billy issues a short snore and Zay winks at Missy. "I'll never tell."
"But it's Lucas!" Maya huffs.
"That does wonders for my confidence," Lucas mutters from behind the rim of his cup as he sinks down deeper into his chair.
Maya takes a deep breath and rolls her head to look over at him. "It's not like that. It just—it'll be weird. It would be less weird to kiss Riley."
"And if Riley had said the magic word, that's what you'd be doing," Charlie says, he switched his cup to his other hand so he could wrap an arm around Riley and tuck her in against his side. "Now, come on, get on with it, you two. We want to keep playing. I am still far too sober."
Smackle nods vigorously and thumbs the nine of clubs tucked in her collar.
Maya groans and throws her hands up. "I'm not doing it." She turns to the last silent party that she could appeal to before she is most certainly doomed. "Josh, help me out here."
Josh looks unconcerned as he sighs and sits forward in his seat. He balances his cup between both hands and looks up at Maya's desperate face. "What do you want me to say, Maya? I don't have a problem with it. Just get it over with so we can move on."
"You don't have a problem with it?" Maya raises an eyebrow. "Not a single one."
"No," Josh says. "And you shouldn't either. It's all for fun. You should know that better than anyone. You're the one that made that rule."
Maya has to admit that he's not wrong. She was the one who had come up with the rule that is currently the bane of her existence. It's just one of several rules to this incomprehensible game that can have unintended consequences. It's fun enough when the only rules that mattered were the generic ones like if you put down your cup you have to finish it, or the loser of "nose goes" has to drink. She should have known this rule would come back to bite her, but she had the best intentions when she came up with it. It was back when Riley and Charlie were being ridiculously shy about how they felt about each other and Maya had wanted to give them a push. This subsection of the game introduces the physicality of beer pong—without letting Zay leave his chair—and the random unpredictability of King's Cup. People can use their turn to try to sink a ping pong ball in someone else's drink. If they miss they have to finish their own cup and the cup of whoever they tried to dunk on. If they make the shot, the holder of the cup has to pull a card and follow the rule of the suit. Spades force the drawer to answer no or disagree with anything that is said to them for as many minutes as the number of the card, clubs impose silence on the drawer once again deferring to the number on the card for how long that lasted, diamonds revolve around a secret word triggering a round of shots for each of the people at the "corners" of the group in relation to the drawer, and hearts—like the queen Maya pulled—use a secret word to trigger a truth or dare style kiss. Maya had made the rule and then fixed the game to keep pushing Riley and Charlie together until they finally admitted their feelings. It was worth it then and sometimes random instances of the rules had been hilarious. Maya never thought she would end up in a situation like this one. She wants out, but she can't find one.
"Look what you got me into, Zay," Maya mumbles and sends him one last death glare, as if it would do her any good in the long run.
"In my defense, I did try to get Mr. Broody Pants over there to be the one to say the magic word," Zay gestures his cup toward Josh, sloshing some of the beer towards the rim. It's not my fault he didn't take the bait."
"I didn't know what you were trying to get me to say," Josh replies. "Trumpet, man, seriously?"
Zay shakes his head. "Ya'll need to make other friends besides us, man. It's sad that we know more about your neighbors than you."
"How did you even know that, Friar?" Josh asks, his eyes trained on Lucas, who looks like he's trying to disappear into his chair.
"Last time you invited us over for a party, Doug told us all about how he plays with a quartet" Lucas says. "You were there."
"Which one was Doug again?" Josh frowns.
"Does it really matter?" Maya smacks his arm.
At the same time, Lucas answers, "He lives across the hall from you."
"Why are we talking about this?" Maya says. "None of this matters."
"She's freaking out," Riley says in a hushed tone against Charlie's ear. She giggles, obviously far more tipsy than Maya originally thought. "I wonder why?"
Maya frowns at her best friend, but is at a loss for what to say in response.
She can't really put into words why she is freaking out, not even for herself. Obviously, Riley has cooked up some idea for why a silly thing like one little kiss was sending Maya into a full blown meltdown, but despite what some people think about the extremely close nature of their friendship, Maya can't read her mind. She isn't privy to whatever it is and Riley isn't sharing. The only thing Maya knows is that as soon as Lucas said that stupid word, her stomach dropped and she went straight into panic mode. Drawing the stupid queen of hearts hadn't freaked her out—she figured she would hold onto the card for the rest of the round without anyone saying the code word, but then Zay tried to rig the game and all hell broke loose. Maybe part of it is about how she'll have to do this in front of the guy that she's been casually seeing for a couple months, but that can't be all of it. Because clearly Josh is fine with it; he's pushing her to do it as much as anyone else. It's just a game after all, and he can hardly be the jealous type—especially since he has never seemed to mind that she shares an apartment with three guys, only one of whom is romantically attached. Besides, she can't really claim that as an excuse when nearly all the others had participated before when they had a significant other present. It wouldn't exactly be fair for her to get special treatment when she chanted on Missy and Zay during the last game just as loudly as the others while Billy crinkled his nose at the sight. No, this is more about the fact that it's Lucas. Anyone else and she would have bit the bullet. She wouldn't have made such a fuss or called so much attention to how anxious she is about the prospect of having to go through with this.
The question of why his is different makes her head spin. She's spent a lot of time actively trying to not think about Lucas. It's been that way since she decided to move in with him. That's upwards of three years that she has tried to keep him closed into a little box in the back of her mind labeled 'Huckleberry Do Not Open.' If she's honest she had started packing him away in that box long before that. Little by little she has hidden him away since way back in high school. It has been her way of ensuring their controlled friendship and making it easier to live beside him every day, especially when she ends up sharing more space with him than Zay and Charlie on a daily basis. This has torn that box open and dumped everything out at her feet, bringing up things she's not exactly comfortable being reminded of and things she had been content to never think about ever again for everyone's sake, but especially hers. She can't be expected to react calmly to all of this, especially not in front of her sort of boyfriend type person or Lucas himself. So yes, she's freaking out. She doesn't really have any other choice.
A timer goes off and Smackle breathes in relief. She plucks the card from her collar and tosses it back onto the table. She straightens her glasses and looks straight at Maya. "The logical thing to do would be to follow through with your task so that we may proceed."
Maya tosses her head back and rubs both hands over her face. She groans out, "Fine. Fine, I'll do it."
Lucas snaps up straight in his seat at her words. His movement is so quick and abrupt that he almost spills his entire cup over himself. He catches himself before it dumps the whole thing over, but he still ends up with his bee dribbling down his shirt. He swears under his breath and flicks as much off of him as he can. For a few seconds, all eyes are on him and not Maya. She takes the opportunity to compose herself before she has to go through with this. She's giving herself a mental pep talk and planning exactly how she's going to go about it, while everyone else is trying to figure out what is making Lucas act like a klutz now. Maya tries to piece together the best way to approach this and comes up with just closing her eyes and going in for a peck. They would probably try to taunt her and Lucas into more than that, but a kiss is a kiss and Maya can get away with that. Lucas looks spooked though and that complicates things. All the time she has been freaking out, maybe he has been doing the same. He's just been hiding better.
"Are you—" Lucas clears his throat and coughs. He scrunches up his face and looks up at Maya. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," Maya nods, even though it's a lie. "Let's just get it over with. I just need to—" she glances around and takes Josh's cup from him. She downs what's left of his drink in one long gulp and steels herself. "—Okay, now I'm ready. Let's do this."
Maya takes a couple steps toward Lucas's armchair and the closer she gets the straighter he sits up. She's about to plop herself down right on his lap to give herself the right leverage, when he pushes himself out of the chair. Suddenly, he's standing and she's falling sideways into the armchair. He clears his throat again and turns back to look down at Maya. She raises an eyebrow and tries to convey her question with just her eye contact.
Lucas swallows thickly. "You don't want to do this, not really, and I'm not gonna be a part of forcing you to. Alright, so...I'm backing out and I'll—" he waves a hand around as he thinks up an ending for his sentence. "—I'll pay for everyone's drinks next time we go out as a consequence."
Zay frowns, looking between Lucas and Maya, but shrugs as a sign of agreement. "I think that's fair."
"Okay, there we go," Lucas says and sits down in an open spot on the couch. He looks around at everyone, but doesn't quite meet anyone's eyes as he does. "Who's turn is it? Anyone need a refill? Let's keep playing."
The usual chatter starts back up and Riley is suddenly perky again as she realizes it's her turn. While all of this starts to happen around her, Maya is focused on Lucas. She's watching him as he deliberately avoids looking at her. Even though she's managed to avoid having to kiss him, it doesn't mean that all the stuff that's poured out in her head packs itself neatly away again. In fact, all those thoughts only want to be heard even more. They're getting louder and louder until her ears are ringing with them. To make matters even worse, they are now joined with a mess of questions about why Lucas backed out, why he waited until she had gave in to the pressure, and why he had waited until she was about ready to literally throw herself at him. She frowns and tilts her head, but no change in perspective brings her any clarity. She could probably watch him for hours, for days, for years, and never find the answers she's looking for anywhere she can see. There's a good chance that there's always been something hidden beneath the surface that she has missed and only now does she know that there's something to be looking for at all. He's like her like that. They're both moderately reserved and play things close to the chest. He's not going to let her see any further inside than she would let him. That's how it's always been, but now, when Lucas turns and meets her eyes straight on for a long moment, she knows one thing.
Like her, something has been torn open in him too, something that he had never let out before. And if, like her, he's having trouble containing it all again, then there's no telling what's going to happen next.
…
After that the game passes mostly without event. The scene Maya caused seems to have chastised Zay into keeping his ping pong balls to himself. Although, it has something of an opposite effect on Josh. Each time his turn comes around, instead of picking any of the simple rules to enforce, he goes and tries to sink a ball. Unlike Zay, Josh's skill at this aspect of the game is seriously lacking. Most of his shots don't come anywhere close—especially when he tries to seek retribution by landing a ball in Zay's cup, a series of attempts that go particularly awry because Zay is equally as skilled in defense as he is on offense. All Josh manages to accomplish in this rash run of foolishness is to accidentally peg Smackle, who sits between Zay and Farkle, in the head a total of three times with stray shots and to get massively wasted. Which, in retrospect, might have been his intended goal anyway. His aim only gets progressively worse the drunker he gets, so it turns into a bit of a vicious cycle. Generally, this sort of self destructive behavior would be warded off by Maya, or Riley in a pinch, but Riley is distracted by her boyfriend's mouth on her mouth and Maya hasn't been able to think clearly since Lucas said the word trumpet. She's clearly not in the position to judge, even if her date is visibly imploding right before her very eyes. Anyway, 'without event' is just a loose phrase really meant to say that Maya's lengthy outburst was the emotional threshold for the evening, and, even if some things come close, nothing surpasses it. That should be a comfort, but Maya's a little past being comforted by the end of the night.
Eventually, Missy rouses Billy to make their exit. Farkle and Smackle find their way out. Charlie leads a sleepy Riley back to his room to tuck her in for the night. After that there's nothing else for the others to do but call it a night. Zay is already half asleep, curled up amongst the couch pillows. Lucas drops one more cushion on top of Zay, who reacts only by grabbing for said pillow and clutching it against his chest like a child would a teddy bear. Then, without lifting his head to look at anyone else, Lucas says goodnight and disappears down the hall to his room. This leaves Maya alone to drag a stumbling, only half coherent Josh to her room. She waits a few minutes before attempting to do so in order to ensure that she won't run into Lucas on the way. Sometimes she likes that his room is right across the hall from hers, but tonight is not one of those times. She doesn't want him to see her guiding Josh back to her room, even though clearly that has always been the plan for the night and she doesn't exactly have another choice. She can't say why she feels that way, why it matters this time and not any of the countless other times she's taken someone back to her bed, but this night seems to be awash with things she can't put into words, because everything she has said is really just a stand in for the hundreds of things she isn't saying. Only when she is sure Lucas is safely closed away in his room does she stand and clumsily help Josh to his feet.
It takes a lot of coaxing to actually get him all the way into her room. One more drink and he probably would have passed out where he sat and she has half a mind to leave him there after he tries to wander away from where she's directing him. She has always considered handling a drunk person like handling a small child—especially Riley, who is dreamy and childlike even when sober—but she is lacking the patience necessary to do so on this particular night. When she is finally able to push Josh into her room, he promptly lets himself fall into her bed. He kicks off his shoes and ducks under her blankets. Maya rolls her eyes at his lounging form and changes into something more comfortable to sleep in. Once she is dressed, she slips between the sheets beside him. He waits until all of her weight has sunk into the bed before he rolls over, half perched above her. He kisses her then, sloppily, tasting like beer and jealousy. Usually his technique is more refined, culled through his extra three years of experience, but alcohol has dulled his senses tonight and it's transformed him into the over eager, groping frat boy type that she specifically meant to avoid by choosing him. Any other night and they probably would have fooled around anyway, but tonight she is not really into it—her head is elsewhere, not too distant, but across the hall is far enough as far as she's concerned—and he's probably too drunk anyway. So, she pulls back and pushes him away. Josh sort of frowns at her, but once he's back on his side of the bed, he passes out before he can really consider complaining. Maya is left to listen to him softly snore, because try as she might, she can't sleep.
That is the true signifier of just how sideways this night has gone, truly. Maya Hart has cultivated a reputation for being able to sleep anywhere and anytime. Once she has joked to her roommates that it was her one true talent, after she had fallen asleep upright on a stool in front of her canvas in progress. The nap she blamed on Zay who had forgotten to add coffee to the grocery list after he selfishly drank an entire pot to himself. It was unacceptable, even if he had been studying for a final. Maya had woken up surrounded by three grinning boys, and yes, she would always refer to them as boys when they decided to act like children. After her declaration that her spontaneous naps were her greatest accomplishment in life, Lucas flicked one of her paintbrushes at her. After she had pummeled him for disrespecting her art supplies, he had scolded her for provoking him by disrespecting her real true talent in the first place. It was sweet and reminded her of an impassioned advocation for her creativity back in middle school. And she really needs to get a handle over herself, because that's supremely off topic, and yet thoughts like that are exactly the reason why she finds herself having trouble sleeping.
Maya needs to focus on the problem most prominently at hand. She can't stare at the ceiling all night—or rather she could, but she certainly doesn't want to do that. Trouble is, every time she closes her eyes, she sees the way Lucas left the room without looking at her. When has he ever not looked at her? It might seem like a trivial thing, and it's something she never would have noticed on a conscious level before what happened tonight, but it matters. It matters and it's going to sit there in the front of her mind, plastered on the back of her eyelids until she thinks about it. Lucas has always seen her, better than maybe anyone and that's because he's always looking. For him to purposefully stop is only evidence that something has gone catastrophically wrong. A can of worms has been opened and there's no taking that back now that it's done. Maybe it's something that never should have happened, or maybe it has been inevitable from the start—it doesn't matter now, because either way, they're left to deal with the fallout. And Maya can't sleep because of it.
A sigh works itself free of her lips and she would be worried that the sound would disturb the other occupant of her bed, but Josh gives another soft snore and rolls over onto his side, completely oblivious. Maya takes a break from watching the ceiling to observe Josh's slumped form against her pillows. For all his passive aggressive acting out earlier, it's a little unfair, she thinks, that now he gets to lay there completely not bothered by the events of the night. Unfair, because he has drowned his feelings in an excess of beer and can now sleep soundly. Unfair, because she can't do the same. She hadn't drank enough to clear her head of all thought; and she hadn't drank enough to clog up her thoughts to the point of being unable to differentiate between each individual one either. Both alternatives would be preferable to this purgatory that she landed in. She's plagued with uncertainty, but also by memories and potentialities. There's a headache forming at the base of her skull and spreading up and over the crown of her head, and it has nothing to do with the mediocre amount of alcohol she consumed earlier. She runs a hand over her face, pressing into her temples to try to ease the ache. It's no use. She's not going to find relief like this. She's going to remain restless until she can find a way to resolve the underlying problem. And it has nothing to do with what she drank, or Josh snoring next to her, or anything else in her room at the moment. No, the answer is on the other side of her door, perhaps just across the hall, but she can't go after it now.
She tells herself that even as she throws off her blankets, slings her feet over and off the edge of her bed and stands. She's not looking for answers. She's looking for aspirin. That's what she is doing when she crosses her room and walks out her door to the hall.
She keeps her head down as she steps into the hallway and closes her door behind her. With her eyes focusing on the floor, she doesn't know she's no longer alone until she hears the soft click of another door opening and closing. She swallows hard and tries to ease her breathing before she lifts her head. Her eyes immediately lock on to Lucas's as he stands just outside his doorway. His hands go straight to his hair, running through the already mussed locks, and it only serves to make it more evident that he's rolled straight out of bed. She's sure she looks no better, as she wrings her hands together and wobbles her weight from foot to foot.
"Hey," Maya says.
"Hi," Lucas returns.
She can remember only two or three times in the history of their friendship that they were genuinely awkward, and here they are wallowing in awkwardness. There's nothing she can say to help them escape it, no magic words to transport them back to the comfort of their lives before this. In fact, she fears the possibility that whatever she does choose to say will make things worse, that it will only tumble them further down into this growing pit of awkward.
"About what happened earlier, I just wanted to say—" Maya starts and she never gets to finish.
And she never gets to finish because, at the start of her sentence, Lucas is by his door and halfway through he is suddenly right in front of her. His hands leave his hair to find their way into hers, one at the base of her neck and the other tangling through and back over her ear. His lips meet hers in the middle of a word, parted to form the sound of a syllable he's not going to hear. She is shocked, not that he is kissing her, but that she's already kissing him back, eager and unheeded like it comes naturally to her. She drapes her arms around him, using the leverage to drag herself up and closer. She is fighting to make up for their height difference, but is immensely satisfied by the way she encourages him to curl around her. This kiss is filled with a passion that overtakes her, and yet, it still has a precision to it, as if their mouths and lips and tongues have always known exactly how to interact with each other, a dynamic that should be clumsy and new for a first time meeting. And there's nothing sloppy or clumsy about it, except maybe in the way she clutches a little too tightly and her nails bite into the skin of his neck when his teeth graze her lip, or how, when his hand leaves her hair to wrap around her waist, his fingers catch in the fabric of her shirt tugging it as he nearly dips her backward with the intensity of the kiss, and the collar of the oversize garment slips off one of her shoulders. This drags on and on, but somehow is encapsulated in mere seconds, hardly even enough for a minute. He breaks the kiss, only to dip forward again to press one more, quick, nearly chaste in comparison, gentle kiss to her still parted lips. He pulls back again, meeting her eyes before bowing his head in a deliberate nod—as if answering a question neither of them are asking out loud or to confirm that it did indeed happen.
Then, Lucas releases her and slides out of her arms, turning to return to his room and leaving Maya alone in the hall once again, breathless and more confused than she's ever been in her life.
…
Maya is going to obsess about the kiss. There's no avoiding that. She is going to pick apart every second of the night that led up to it, trying to pinpoint where, in the midst of all the chaos, everything shifted off balance. She wants to know when Lucas decided he was going to kiss her. It's a desire that scares her because she knows she will probably have to look past the one night into the tens of dozens of small moments that might mean she and Lucas are something more than what they are with anyone else that had seemed so insignificant before, because that's how they forced themselves to see them, but are now colliding together all at once and doing nothing to make her obsession any less obsessive. She wants to know because she was caught off guard, because, even in his silence, she had known Lucas wasn't going to kiss her with their friends, not to mention her sort of boyfriend like person, in attendance. She had known this somehow and had figured he thought what she did: that eventually their friends would admit failure and let them off the hook. And he had refused, he had gotten them out of it. So, Maya isn't sure what had happened between the moment he wasn't going to kiss her and the moment when he actually kissed her. She isn't sure what she missed and she's terrified that she has been missing things all along without even realizing it.
This is the problem she faces because she can't stop thinking about Lucas kissing her. A problem that is amplified by the fact that it's not the passionate, spontaneous kiss that's on her mind—though it is on her mind, replayed in vivid, brilliant technicolor detail. No, it's the second, soft and deliberate kiss that followed that has her balancing precariously on the edge of sanity. The first kiss can be explained away if she tries hard enough, cuts a few corners and conveniently forgets some things that have been said or done on both sides. She can say it was the product of residual adrenaline from the various events of the night. She can say it was so spontaneous, even Lucas wasn't completely aware of or in control of his actions. There are a hundred ways she can spin it and she obsessively plays them all out over and over, trying to accept one of them as the truth and failing—though she'll never admit it. The second kiss she can't quite get over. There are a lot of things she can't get over—like how she hasn't known that someone could kiss her so assured and unsure at the same time, how she couldn't resist kissing back, how it was just the right balance between awkwardness and perfection, and how a part of her never wanted it to end—but especially that soft kiss that came after all that.
So, Maya will obsess until she has answers and she can only hope she can get answers ever. She'll obsess until they can reach some kind of resolution—because she's stuck in limbo standing in that hallway. She can't step into her room because then she'll have to face Josh and if she does make it into her room, she'll have to stay there forever because there's no way she can show her face in the apartment ever again. But, she can't stay there, hovering, in the space between her room and Lucas's and risk being there if he comes back out again or something. She chooses the lesser of the two evils, because at least she knows what waits for her on the other side of her door and, at least for the moment, Josh isn't going to be very confrontational. Maya twists on her heel and goes back to her room.
…
It doesn't really occur to Maya that she never did fall asleep until the morning sun is very clearly shining into her room and Josh is stirring beside her. She had been as stealthy as possible when she slipped back into bed beside him, a product of some reservoir of guilt she feels more than anything since a bomb going off wasn't likely to disturb his beer soaked sleep. Once under the covers she had returned to staring at her ceiling, the very task she had been trying to avoid when she had gone out into the hall in the first place. That fact is not lost on her now, as her eyes are still wide open and locked on the one spot in the plaster speckled ceiling that looks vaguely like South America. Josh rolls over and blinks sleepily at her. She's pretty sure he's waiting for her to acknowledge him, but she just keeps tracing the edges of the continent on her ceiling with her eyes.
"Hey," Josh reaches out and gently pokes her arm. "Good morning."
His voice is still sleepy and it matches the drowsy smile he wears. On any other morning, a few hours ago even, Maya might have found this a little playful and sexy; Josh has a specialty in lazy seduction. She found it charming at one time, but she's in so much inner conflict at the moment that she can't remember why. Why had she been so enamored by the fact that things with Josh had been so simple and uncomplicated? Because the alternative is complex and difficult? Is she only now realizing that the thing with Josh is too easy because she has been faced with the alternative? She has enjoyed this casual thing with Josh because she doesn't have to think about it. He's there and he's willing and, well there's not no strings, but the couple that tie them together are loose and hardly binding. He is lying beside her now and it would be easy to roll over, kiss him and continue with this empty thing. She could pretend that she hadn't learned what pleasure might lie behind something complicated and heavy. It would be easy.
Turns out maybe she doesn't want easy anymore.
Maya turns her head just enough to see him. "Hey. Mornin'."
Josh starts to lean in and Maya slides away out of his reach, her eyes wide to be sure she'll see if he keeps coming. But as soon as she falters backward, he stops, a frown working over his face. She feels bad for the look she has put on his face and the guilt starts to take hold for real. She pushes herself up to sit against her headboard, and rubs her hands over her face as she sighs. Her new position puts a little more distance between them, and even though she's sure it'll only be for a few seconds she needs it while she collects her thoughts. With the frown still etched deeply into his features, Josh sits up as well, joining her against the headboard. She doesn't look over at him, but she can feel his eyes on her as they sweep over her, probably looking for some clue as to what had changed overnight.
"Is this about how I acted last night?" Josh asks. "I know I kinda made an ass of myself, which was stupid since I told you it was fine and it didn't even happen anyway. I'm supposed to be older and wiser, and I was just...childish. We didn't even get to...spend time together last night. So, I get it if you're mad at me or something."
"I'm not mad at you," Maya says, her eyes still focused anywhere but at him—her comforter covered lap, the sweater hanging half over the foot of her bed, the pictures on her walls, the lonely sock balled up in the corner of the room.
"Then why the—" he waves a hand at the length of her body, "—standoffish posture?"
"It's not standoffish," Maya says, still not looking at him and, as such, is not very convincing.
"I would have to disagree," Josh replies. "You've certainly been more friendly and open than this, especially to me. So, what's wrong?"
"I don't think I can do this anymore," Maya says.
"So you are mad at me."
"No," Maya shakes her head. "I'm not. It's not...about you."
"Right," Josh's head falls back against the headboard with a dull thump. "No, I get it. I can't honestly say that I didn't see this coming. You were never fully in this. I just didn't know it was about him."
"It's not like that," Maya says, even though she's pretty sure that's gonna turn out to be a lie.
"Sure it is," Josh rolls his head to the side to look at her and for the first time since they've started the conversation, she turns to meet his gaze. "But it's okay. We both knew what this was," he gestures between them. "It was going to end one way or another. This is probably better than it could have gone."
"I'm still sorry," Maya says. She takes in a deep breath. "I didn't want things to turn out like this...or, at least, I didn't know that I did."
Josh nods and offers her a small smile. "I understand, kid."
This time when he reaches for her, she doesn't flinch away from him. He wraps an arm around her and pulls her toward to press a kiss to her forehead. After he releases her, he kicks off her blankets and bends to collect his things before he heads for the door. Maya watched him as does this and finds herself on her feet as well. He's got his hand on the door knob before she realizes that she intends to follow him. She grabs the sweater at the end of her bed and yanks it over her head as she steps out into the hall after him. Her mouth wobbles open and closed, but no words come to mind that are worthy of being vocalized. She feels like there's something she should say, so that this doesn't go feeling unfinished, but she can't come up with it. Instead, she just silently shadows him all the way out to the main living area.
The sharp scent of brewing coffee hits her nose first, the warning that someone is already up. All of her roommates plus Riley are circled around the kitchen island. Now, with an audience, anything Maya might have said will go unsaid. She ducks her head and doesn't meet anyone's eyes as she continues to walk Josh toward the door. She feels eyes on her, but she isn't brave enough to look up to see which of her roommates they belong to.
"Hey Josh, Maya," Zay says, when the pair is halfway across the room. "You want a coffee? Charlie made this pot so it's not the usual sludge."
Josh glances over at the group. His response is directed to Zay, but his eyes linger on Lucas. "Nah, man. I'm heading out. Maybe another time."
No one tries any harder to get him to stay. Maybe its too early or they're too hungover to put in the effort, or maybe they feel the tension that had built up the same way that Maya does. She opens the front door to let Josh out and she lingers, leaning against the doorway, as he steps around her. He looks back at her for a moment, his face scrunched as if about to get something off his mind, but then his expression softens and he doesn't say whatever it might be.
"Bye, Maya," he does say as he backs away.
"Bye, Josh," Maya says back, and it might be the most weighted goodbye she's said in a long time.
When he is gone, she closes the door and rests her forehead flat against it. She takes in a deep breath before she turns to face her friends. She joins them in the kitchen and slides onto the empty stool next to Zay. She still can't look at Lucas, doesn't know how to, because she has no idea what will happen if she does. She doesn't want to find out, not yet. She does take the mug of coffee Riley pushes toward her. She sips at it and hopes the caffeine will do something about how her all nighter is starting to drag her down. She hadn't drank enough to be hungover, but the lack of sleep is enough to make her extra sluggish.
"So that was a quick exit," Charlie says, "Even for him."
Riley digs her elbow into her boyfriend's side and narrows her eyes at him, everything she has to say communicated through physical interaction. If she wasn't in such a strange awkward place, Maya would be so goddamn happy that her best friend is happy. Riley is annoyed at the moment, but even still, everything she does is layered in affection in that Riley Matthews way. Either way, this exchange between the couple is enough to tell Maya that at least Riley could sense something genuinely off, even if Charlie hadn't. Maya doesn't like being that obvious, even if she is surrounded by people she trusts. She wants to know what they see that she doesn't, but she also wishes that they couldn't see it because it doesn't feel fair for them to know more than she does about herself and her relationships. Riley's elbow to Charlie's stomach quiets that direction of commentary, but Zay picks up on a tangent.
"How can he even move that fast?" Zay asks, resting his whole head on a hand propped up by his elbow on the island. He takes a large gulp off his mug, emptying it to the last drop. "My head is hammering to the point where I wish I could evict my brain and I swear he drank five times as much as I did. He should have been crawling out of here, not practically running."
There it is again. Riley sighs and rubs a hand over her face, obviously disappointed by the obliviousness of the two boys. Maya is pretty sure she should be more upset by the fact that Josh had basically run out on her, and everyone had seen it, but she can't seem to muster up the proper reaction. She was the one to send him away, mostly, so, what right does she really have to judge how he did what she asked of him? Part of the reason she had pulled away from him is because she couldn't be bothered to truly worry about how things were at an end between them. Frankly, she is more concerned with what's going on in the head of the one who hasn't spoken. Maya wants Lucas to say something—about Josh, about her, about anything really—to prove, what she isn't sure, but she wants something from him. She finally convinces herself to peek up at him. He's watching her same as the others, but he says nothing. He just watches her in silent contemplation. She wants to know what he's thinking, but he's not forthcoming and she doesn't know how to ask.
Lucas says nothing and it occurs to Maya that, after all these years, after everything, that might just be the way it stays.
…
Maya doesn't know how to leave things be. It's a trait that she's picked up from years of being exposed to Riley's intensive meddling. She's not entirely pleased to have acquired this particular brand of impatience, mostly because she has been on the receiving end of that kind of behavior. She doesn't have the same compulsive need to fix things, but it manifests in a compulsion to speed things along. She has trouble letting things play out on their own. It's why she can't usually sit through a movie that's over two hours. If the problem can't be solved in ninety minutes, there's a good chance that the film has far too many false starts. And she loathes those close calls, those moments of almost—the guy almost gets the girl, they almost catch the bad guy, the hero almost saves the world, the girl almost sees her dreams come true. Even if, in the end, all those almosts are realized, she doesn't like having to live through the momentary disappointment. She's had her fill of almosts in her own life, the clawing moments of disappointment, and she really doesn't need anymore.
Try to get her to watch a whole season of a TV show, let alone a whole series. She was burned by Ross and Rachel one too many times to try that again.
So the fact that days have gone by with things unspoken between her and Lucas, is fraying Maya's nerves. Any longer and there's a chance this will turn into an almost for them. An almost what, she hasn't figured out yet. Whatever it is, she doesn't want it to be an almost. Part of the whole reason she has kept certain thoughts of him packed away is that she has been trying to avoid these kinds of almosts with him. It's easier to maintain their relationship when whatever this could be is off the table entirely. Now that it's been put out there, it's an old possibility made new again. She can't stand by and let this go unresolved.
That first morning she had been unable to fully look at him, afraid to move things forward, because she wasn't ready. She had wanted him to speak, but, at that moment, if he had, she's pretty sure she wouldn't have been prepared for what he said no matter which way it sent things. It had taken her more than those first few hours to drag herself out of the fog that kiss had left her in, but days later, and she can't keep waiting for him to say something. He can't go around kissing people like that and not stick around to explain himself, but she also can't sit around waiting for him to realize that. She has to do something to put things into motion. If he needs a catalyst to speak up, she'll be it. She'll try to be.
It takes nearly four days of silence before Maya gets the apartment to herself and a chance to catch Lucas alone. Riley and Charlie are out on a date, eating dinner at some new restaurant that Riley has been adorably drooling over and hinting after for weeks. Zay is working late, covering an extra shift, partially at Maya's suggestion. That gives Maya a little time on her own in the empty apartment before Lucas gets home from work. She spends that time sitting on the couch, thinking over everything that has happened in the past few days and waiting for him. The sound of a key in the lock announces his arrival and she situates herself so she's the first thing he'll see on his way in. His eyes fall on her as planned, but after he gets over the initial jolt of seeing her there, he starts for his room, meaning to leave her in silence yet again. She's not going to let him.
"Do you know what I hate about movies?" Maya asks and her voice almost echoes off the walls.
Lucas is frozen by her words. She has been as silent as he has the last few days, all her words reserved for their other friends, so he is startled by her choice to breach that quiet now. Still, he turns back to her, drawing himself a few steps closer.
"I haven't seen a movie in the last decade that wasn't spoiled by Farkle, so..." Lucas manages, although his voice is strained like each word takes effort to make it's way past his lips.
"My problem with them, and TV shows too, is that all the drama, all the conflict, all the problems are unnecessary. Everything could be solved if people just talked to each other," Maya says. "It probably wouldn't be half as entertaining for other people and it would eliminate suspense, but I've never understood it. If they just said what was on their minds, they wouldn't have to suffer for two thirds of the movie. Of course, I've been guilty of it myself. I've been keeping things in because it's easier, but I'm done with that. I'm done not talking. I'm done letting things drag out, in a way I have for years without even realizing it, but I can't do that without you. So, you need to start talking too."
"I don't think I should," Lucas says. His brows furrow, and he's sort of started to focus on a spot to the left of her instead of right on her.
"Why not?"
"Several reasons," Lucas replies. His hand clenches into a fist around the set of keys he still holds. They jiggle as they're jostled and his expression tightens. He swallows visibly and shifts, uncomfortable and awkward yet again. "I haven't seen Josh around lately, but he's a—he's—"
"He's not going to be around," Maya frowns. Had that really gone unnoticed? She had told Riley in limited detail that the relationship had met its end and to this moment, she has assumed that the knowledge had been circulated. She has been wrong, obviously. "We called, whatever was between us, off. He likes me better when I don't spend most of my time thinking about another guy. Josh and I are over, have been since that first morning when he ran out on me."
"You didn't say anything," Lucas says.
"I thought you knew," Maya starts to shrug, but she doesn't want to be dismissive so she drops her shoulders again. "No, you're right. I probably should have said something, but you weren't exactly talking to me at the time."
"You weren't talking to me either," Lucas says.
"Because I was waiting for you to explain yourself," Maya says, this should have been obvious, but then again, as she thinks about it in the brief moment before he responds, maybe the problem is that nothing is as obvious as they've assumed. And by assuming anything, they've only caused further trouble because that's one more thing they're not talking about.
"What did I have left to explain?" Lucas asks. He's committed to the conversation now, at least, and he drops down into the same chair he had sat in last night. It's not much closer than he was before, but it's not in one foot out the door territory anymore. There's not a hint of skepticism in his question. It doesn't striker her as defensive. He's honestly asking because he's genuinely unsure.
"Everything," Maya answers, unable to qualify it just yet. She sits forward, resting her arms across her knees. She lets her eyes rest lightly on him.
"Honestly? I thought that kiss spoke volumes," Lucas says.
"Not enough," Maya says. "All it did was leave me with more questions and no answers to any of them."
"Ask them."
"Why?" Maya asks. "Why did you kiss me? And why did you do it like that? We had an out. If you wanted to kiss me, why didn't you just kiss me that night when we were supposed to? Why did you wait? Why did you make a big deal about not doing it and then go and kiss me anyway?"
All these versions of the same question spill out of her mouth and she stares across at him as they do. She means only to judge that he has heard, but she's watching his eyes. There's something behind his gaze as he looks back at her and, when he opens his mouth to respond, suddenly, she knows his answers. It's like a veil has lifted and she realizes she has known the answer without even realizing it. Only now, when she's basically begging him to say it out loud, does she find clarity on this thing she's been hiding from herself.
"It's not like I planned it," Lucas starts. He rubs a hand over his face and ends up resting his fist against his mouth. His brow is bunched together as he narrows his focus on her, on this expelling of the truth they're only now allowing out into the world. "I just—I knew if it was going to happen, I didn't want it to be a game. I wanted it to be real and it was probably stupid of me to fight it without fighting it and I came off dismissive...Then to make matters worse. I actually go and kiss you while I'm half drunk and a little sleep deprived.
"But you gotta understand, Maya, that once the thought of kissing you was there, I couldn't stop thinking about kissing you. And that was running through my head over and over, until it was hard to even look at you because I was afraid that I would do it, that right there in front of everyone I would just cross the room and kiss you. I barely made it through the rest of the game. So, when I saw you in the hallway, and it was just us, and there was nothing to distract me from you, it happened," Lucas nods slightly with his flow of words. He's quiet for a lingering moment and Maya wonders if he's replaying the kiss in his head right now the same way she is. She could say something to break the silence, but instead she waits. She wants to keep listening to him. Somehow, she feels like everything he's saying, is known to her, inherently now, but still she wants to hear him say it. "I'll confess that I've spent a lot of time trying not to think of you like that, because I thought that's what you wanted. You know, I figured you didn't see me like that, maybe not anymore, maybe you never did. Everything with Josh should have been a confirmation. But all my resolve broke that night. It presented me with a possibility and it sent me out of my mind. I didn't mean for the kiss to happen, but once it did, I felt like that was my move and it was offering you that same possibility, the chance to choose. I thought, if you felt the same you would say so, would say something. When you didn't, I assumed—well, that you didn't choose me."
"You should have said something," Maya replies. "The kiss was..." she trails off trying to figure out what the appropriate word is. She can't. She settles for, "wonderful, but that was what I needed. You should have said something. You should have said something before."
"Like what?" Lucas asks. "Would you have even been ready to hear it? What could I have said?" He stands up and carefully crosses over to sit beside her on the couch. He keeps his eyes locked on hers as he approaches, and she shifts to stay facing him as he settles beside her. "That I thought having you live her, right across the hall, having you stand beside me, always in arms reach—I thought it would be enough. And it's just not. It's great, and I certainly don't want you any further away, but Maya, it's not close enough. It never has been."
"Yes," Maya breathes out and finds herself inclining toward him, her leg pressing against his, her face tilted and leaning towards his. She stretches out a hand and rests it over the one he has sitting on his nearest knee. She plays with his fingers and whispers, "that's exactly what you should have said. I would have heard you."
Lucas's other hand comes up, strokes across her cheek and passes through her hair. His voice is low, almost raw and husky, as he asks, "What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking," Maya says. "You're still not close enough."
Lucas makes a sound that she can only classify as a whine, but the sound is low and rich, and it originates from somewhere so deep within him that it tugs at Maya. She pushes herself forward and his arm drops to her waist to pull her toward him at the same time. It ends with her spilling onto his lap, one leg sliding over his so that she settles face to face with him. Despite their proximity, his arm around her, her hand pressed to his chest, there's still space to be bridged between them.
"Is this close enough?" Lucas asks, an inkling of a smirk at the corner of his lips.
Sure to keep her eyes on his the whole time, Maya worries her lip between her teeth and slowly shakes her head no. As a response, Lucas straightens up, pressing forward. His movement forces her to rock her hips forward to keep her balance, and it moves her from where she sat upon his knees to land flush against him. A hiss of air leaves his lips at the same time a stuttered gasp parts hers. Both of their breathing picks up, but otherwise they still at the added contact.
Lucas raises an eyebrow. "Now?"
Maya tries to respond, but Lucas shifts again, rolling his hips into hers and it leaves her instantly trembling and breathless. She can do no more than mouth the word 'no.' It's enough to spur him into action again. In one fluid motion, he gets both arms around her and swings her down so she lies flat on her back on the couch. His body falls right over hers, nestling in until they are pressed flush together from foot to shoulder. Her legs are hooked around his, keeping him locked into place.
There is barely a breath between their lips when he asks once more, "how about now?"
"Almost," Maya breathes before she cards both hands into his hair and drags his lips down to hers.
This kiss has twice the passion and half the uncertainty of their first—and the added benefit of both of them seeing it coming. They meet together, relaxing into each other's hold as if they've finally found exactly how they're supposed to fit together. Her fingers twist in his hair, unable to release him, as their mouths move in tandem with each other. Their lips set a rhythm that the rest of their bodies follow. An ebb and flow that they commit to as if it is the most natural thing in the world. While she probably shouldn't be thinking about Josh at a time like this, she is able to realize why she was never fully in that relationship, casual and uncommitted or no, and it has everything to do with Lucas. Because, this is where she's supposed to be. This is close enough. Close enough that she can feel his heart beating so strong that it might as well be thundering away in her chest, beside her own. Being any further away would tear her open like a tragedy.
Lucas pulls away to catch his breath, burying his face in the crook of her neck. His hands trail up her side, dipping beneath the hem of her shirt to find her bare skin, warm against his fingertips. His mouth presses against her ear. "Is this okay?"
"Yes," Maya breathes. Her hands finally free themselves from his hair and she lets her nails drag just so down his back, following his spine. She smirks when her touch makes him jerk against her. She responds by pressing up to meet him and he groans into her neck, rewarding her with a gentle nip at her collarbone as he drags his face down. "More."
"This is all I've ever wanted," Lucas murmurs against her skin. His hold on her tightens on her, an extra assurance that she isn't going to slip away this time.
"Me too," Maya says. With those two words, who hasn't she lied to before? Because no two truer words have ever left her lips and she's spent years hiding from them.
Lucas backs away just enough that he can look her in the eyes again. He says nothing, just stares into her eyes for a few long moments as she stares back.
"What are you thinking?" Maya asks finally.
"That I can get closer," Lucas grins at her and she might laugh with how much joy that bubbles up in her if the next thing he does isn't dive in again, kissing it away.
Here they are, a result of a stupid drinking game and unintentionally meddling friends, but at least they aren't yet another almost was, a near miss. They've tried to stay off this path for so long, but they've come to realize that this is the only one that leads them home. They are destined to be something more to each other, maybe always have been, and to finally let go and let that happen is a relief. It opens a whole new world to them and they are finally ready to experience it together. But first, they have some catching up to do.
Later, when they are still tangled together, a content pile of limps and bodies, only a single throw blanket draped over them, they'll be lazily enjoying the closeness. It's such a novel pleasure for Maya to pepper little kisses to whatever part of Lucas that is readily available to her—and the way she's tucked against him at the moment means that's usually his chest or neck or jawline—or for Lucas to spin and twirl her curls around, around and around his fingers or for either of them to trace nonsense shapes into the other's skin. And even though there is no need for the words they've already found rooted in their hearts, he'll lean in to whisper to her how happy this makes him and she'll say the same right back. They've been sated after years of doing without and they are perfectly content to stay just like this in that dreamy suspension between reality and somnolent dozing.
This is the scene their friends will walk in on and they'll be only half conscious of the arrival.
That is, until Zay gently kicks the back of the couch they lie upon. "Aw, come on, we all have to sit on that couch."
Now, Maya actually gets out that breathy laughter from earlier as she nuzzles further into Lucas's arms to ensure that they're both properly covered by the blanket. "You gotta take credit for your handiwork."
"Sound the trumpet, man," Lucas jokes, sliding his arms around Maya snug.
Zay rolls his eyes. "You're still on the hook for our drinks next time out." He is halfway out of the room before he adds, "And for steam cleaning the couch. Would it kill you to get a room? Ya'll have two of them. Nobody wants to see that."
Eventually, they will leave the little cocoon they've formed and they'll move this to one of their rooms. But for now, they're going to relish in their intimate closeness. It's something they've been craving for too long to let go of just yet, even if temporarily and Maya dares anyone to try and come between them. From now on there's no boxing away her thoughts of Lucas. They've taken her world over and she's never going to miss another moment of this. Even if it means having an audience.
…
But you can't be close enough unless I'm feeling your heartbeat
All of your love
was all that I needed.