A/N: Here's chapter three. Enjoy! R&R! Thanks! ~Mac
Disclaimer: I don't own GMW.
Three
Riley hears about it from Farkle, who is informed of it by Lucas in confidence (but the boy has never learned a fact that he hasn't shared with Riley; it's why she knows so much about microbiology and wishes she didn't. She has dreams sometimes, that could probably qualify as nightmares, about giant microorganisms—terrifying enough in that contradiction—that chase her around and make her juggle. Riley gets irrationally anxious that people might randomly request that she juggle for no reason anyone can fathom. It manifests in strange ways. They've learned to accept it. Anyway, Riley could stopper the flow of information, but then she would miss out on tidbits like this thing with Maya and Lucas and she lives for things like this). Lucas tells Farkle about their run in that next day and within an hour of that conversation, Riley is calling Maya, and everyone knows before Maya even has a chance to talk to Lucas again.
"Hey, Riley, what's up?" Maya answers with the sunshiny disposition she reserves for her best friend. Although that dries up almost instantly once Riley opens her mouth.
"You acted like you didn't know Lucas?!" Riley shouts so loudly that Maya has to pull the phone away to protect her eardrum (and still she's pretty sure that Riley could be heard by everyone on her floor, in her building, and through the rest of the borough, maybe up and down the entire eastern seaboard). "What were you thinking?"
"If I admit to not thinking, will that save me from the lecture I assume you have prepared?" Maya asks when she feels it is safe to bring her phone back to her ear. "Are there notecards, Riley? Tell me there are, because that is a silly technique you borrowed from Lucas and there is no place for it here."
"Are you talking about Lucas, our friend we've known for years, or Lucas, the rando you just met?" Riley says (she probably has an eyebrow raised, that's what Maya pictures: Riley, perched cross legged on her bed in her cute, little, Golden State dorm room, hair tied up in a messy bun, ridiculous look on her face, half amused, half confused, and academic paraphernalia scattered around her. It's the pristine image of a California college girl and she can see it all over Riley, even when being chastised). "Because I hear you invited at least one of them up to your room."
"Hardy har," Maya rolls her eyes and falls back to lay on her bed. "But, fair point."
"Heck yeah it's a fair point," Riley says. "It's the fairest point there is. Look up fair point and this is the fair point you will find. I'm getting off track here. I believe you owe someone an explanation."
"Lucas?" Maya says.
"No," Riley sounds insulted. "Me, Maya. Lucas left your wild rendezvous and called up Farkle right away. And me? What do I get? Not a single peep from the person who claims to be my best friend in the world."
"We're in different time zones, Riles," Maya replies.
"I'm hearing a bunch of words, but no explanation," Riley says.
"I suppose you won't be satisfied it I tell you that I was going to call you later," Maya rubs a hand over her face (and wishes she could dissolve right into her pillows and disappear, even though that would have absolutely no effect on her situation given that hiding from Riley over the phone is redundant).
"I might be mildly appeased if that in any way resembled the truth," Riley says. "Since that is the biggest load of nonsense you've said during this phone call, I'm gonna say, no, I'm not the least bit satisfied. You want to try again?"
"Okay, fine, you want the truth? I wasn't going to call you, Riley, because I didn't want to tell you. I didn't want to have to hear how it was wrong and stupid and impulsive and the kind of spontaneous I, as a person, should avoid," Maya spills out. "Because—and here's the god's honest truth of it—I would do it again."
Maya has only had a short time to think about everything, but that's what she's settled on. While she will concede that the lists of things she knows is substantially smaller than the list of things she doesn't know, she is growing more certain that her willingness to do it all over again is something firmly set on the former. Clearly, Riley is never going to see it this way, what with her idealism and her sense of dichotomy in the realm of right and wrong. That's why she hadn't planned on calling and filling Riley in on this. This is clearly not up her alley, but Maya is finding, it is centered perfectly in hers. See, Farkle has computers and numbers, politics and science (and god damn everything really and he must have something up his sleeve on this matter for Lucas to so willingly shar the details of this situation). Riley has feminism and equal rights and the can-do attitude of someone who wants to change the world and enough hope and optimism and faith, in reality as in fairytales, to believe that she can (and if anyone will do it, it's Riley because she's persistent and knows how to surround herself with the right kind of people, like Farkle and Lucas and her eternal cheerleader, Maya). Lucas has his animals and compassion and how to put the fluffies and furries back together when they fall apart (and so much more, things Maya can't even begin to put into words right now). And Maya, she has art, creativity, mad skills at quarters (go figure) and things like chemistry (but not the kind that gets tallied onto Farkle's list). This thing with Lucas, it falls nicely into that last category, because if she's honest with herself, she knows that she has never felt more comfortable with him than when they were pretending they had just met. This means that there's something, something she hasn't put a name to yet, that has held them back from each other. Only when they released their ties to their shared pasts were they able to truly see how they worked together, how each action inspires reaction with each other (so maybe it is a little like that other kind of chemistry, and this is an experiment, but it's all in terms that Maya understands on a level far deeper than her genius friend). She knows what she's doing, or at least what she wants to do, because this is where she thrives. This is her area of expertise (human interaction on a personal, emotional, physical and chemical level, but without all the restriction of scientific fact. She doesn't need logic, or advice from her well-meaning best friend. This is something she must feel her way out of, and she wants to, even if it is ill advised). So, she has this Lucas thing handled, completely under her control (or, really, she probably doesn't at all, not in the slightest, but she's going to try to see it through and that's the best she's got).
"You would do it again?" Riley repeats, turning it into a question (that sounds more like an incredulous accusation than anything).
"See? This is why I wasn't going to call you," Maya says. "You're getting judge-y. You're a sweetheart, Riles, but you do this."
Riley gasps too dramatically for it to be anything but forced and phony. "Judge-y? Me? Never. I take offence to that kind of slander."
"It's not slander if it's true," Maya replies, "ask your mother, she's the lawyer."
"Well, it's not true," Riley says.
"I beg to differ."
Maya twists her blankets over her legs and rolls over so she can cover herself completely. It's better if she gets comfortable for this, because the way they're circling around the same little things has the makings of a rather long conversation. This is how it's gone with Riley since they've parted ways across the country—they'll not talk for a few days and things seem to save up, only to have them all come spilling out in one five-hour sprawling, rambling, barely coherent conversation that hardly deserves the label. She nestles down into her bed and props her phone where it can press against her ear without her holding it. Riley always comes in hot (like screeching her first, mostly rhetorical question with the power and volume of a velociraptor), then tapers off (like with this run around that's turned into something about Riley herself and not the Maya and Lucas debacle at hand), and finally builds back up to what she really has to say (but Maya isn't exactly in the mood to hear what Riley wants to say about it, so the only choice is to head her off). Maya trails her finger down the seam of her comforter and takes a deep breath before she launches in.
"Okay, Riley, we both know how this is going to go, we'll do this irrelevant bickering for a while until I am just worn down enough to let you have free reign to say whatever you want to say. And when you get the chance to say it, you're gonna tell me how wrong it was, what a mistake I made, and, honey, as much as I appreciate your concern, I don't want to hear any of that. I don't know what Lucas said to Farkle, or what Farkle told you, or what kind of telephone style distortion of the truth has or hasn't occurred. I don't k now what I was thinking exactly when I did what I did, but, for whatever reason, it kinda works. Until such a time as it does not work, I'm gonna see where this goes."
"But Maya—" Riley starts.
"Look, kid, I get that you're itchin' to jump in here and do your Matthews magic and fix all my problems the way you have tried to our entire lives," Maya interrupts. "But you're there and I'm here. And there is not a problem for you to fix. I'm not sure it's a problem at all."
"This could go all sorts of wrong," Riley says. Her voice has gone quiet in the wake of all that Maya has said.
"So can most things," Maya replies (this is especially true for her, given that odds are, in her life, that anytime she makes a choice the worst thing that could possibly happen will. Or, at least, it feels that way sometimes).
"I hope you know what you're doing," Riley says.
"Of course I don't," Maya laughs a little nervously (but she knows that she's getting into it with her eyes open, which is honestly the most she can ask for in this situation). "I suppose I'll figure it out though."
"Well, I have faith in you, Maya," Riley says.
"You have faith in everything, Riley. It's who you are."
"Yes, but in you most of all," Riley says, "but you can always come to me if you find you feel otherwise about this down the line."
Maya grits her teeth and crinkles her nose. She rolls onto her back to glare up at her ceiling. She holds the phone away from her face as she tries not to groan or growl into the phone. Despite her frustration, she can't let Riley pick up on it—it'll only drag this talk out even longer. Riley and her good intentions are appreciated at most times, but pushy and Riley become synonymous after a while (and if there is one thing that Maya cannot take lying down is being pushed and pushed and pushed). There's already enough physical distance between her and Riley; she isn't going to deepen it any further now (not when she's only regained so little from her life before, not now, not over this). So, she rolls her eyes, knowing Riley can't see it and lets the mild annoyance knot away in her stomach for a few moments where it can't do any damage—she'll find a way to release it later.
"I'll keep that in mind," Maya says. She is distracted by the sound of a key in the door lock and she sees her out coming through the door. "Hey, Riles, I gotta go. Kendall has finally decided to make an appearance."
"Alright, Maya," Riley says, "but call me, ya know, if you decide you have something you want to talk about."
"Yeah, yeah," Maya responds. "I'll call you later."
Maya lets Riley get one more quick goodbye before she hangs up. She clenches her fingers tight around the phone and shakes her fist in the air as she silently screams out her frustration. She kicks out her legs in a juvenile display of a tantrum and gets tangled even more into her blankets. Kendall appears, leaning over her bed with a bemused expression on her face—one eyebrow crooked and a ghost of a smile. Maya breathes in deeply and tries to force a small smile onto her face for Kendall's benefit, but it turns into something of a grimace.
"You look displeased," Kendall says and bounces down upon the bed beside Maya. She pets at Maya's hair and offers her a sympathetic pout. "Do you wanna talk about it?"
Maya shakes her head. She's not going to get into this, not right now (besides, half of it is stuff she can't even bring up to Kendall anyway, so there's that). She needs to cool off and talking about it isn't going to do the job.
"I know what you need," Kendall says. She pats Maya once more and pops back up onto her feet. "You need to come get a coffee with me."
"Coffee? Are you sure?" Maya pinches her lips together. "I'm already on edge as it is. The last thing I need is to be more jittery."
"Nonsense. Coffee is a gift from a higher power. It's my favorite cure all," Kendall tugs at Maya's blankets. "Let's go. Up, up."
"Fine," Maya groans, tossing aside her blanket and getting to her feet. "But you're paying."
"I think I can spare a few bucks for my ailing friend," Kendall says. She links her arm with Maya's and guides her out of the room. (Maya can't match her enthusiasm. She's far too soured by her gloomy mood, but Kendall is also operating at a level of zeal that comes from an undeterminable source. There's something driving under the surface that Maya can't put her finger on, so she doesn't try). "Let's go. I'll even spring for the extra whip and syrup. Get you a good sugar buzz."
"I won't say no to a sugar buzz," Maya says.
Kendall leads the way to the nearby coffee shop and Maya focuses on one foot in front of the other. The shop is particularly busy at this time of day, but neither girl is in any kind of rush. They wind their way through the line—Maya, silently and absently tapping away at her phone, and Kendall, yammering away to fill the time with anecdotes about her exploits from the previous night. Maya listens with half an ear, but her obvious lack of attention does nothing to deter Kendall from continuing her jaunt down memory lane, neither does needing to order at the counter ("and so he says, 'can I see you again?' and I'm like—yes, two of them, extra whip, do not skimp on the syrupy goodness—anyway, I told him, 'honey, I had a great time, but'—no, I need caffeine, man, I'm talking expresso, double, triple shots, whatever will make if feel like I'm not running on three hours of crappy sleep. Thank you—where was I? Right. I was blowing him…off. I was blowing him off. Geez, man, pick up your jaw. Hundreds of people in and out of here every day, I know you've heard worse. Don't even play with me.") After leaving the barista a little worse for wear (traumatized, Maya would say, given the poor boy's shocked still expression), they collect their freshly made drinks and endeavor to find somewhere to sit in the crowded shop.
"I'm telling you, there has to be somewhere to sit in this place," Kendall says as they weave around occupied tables. Maybe someone will be willing to share. Like, look what we have here, a gentleman sitting all alone at a table far too big for just himself. Perhaps we can join him."
It takes Maya a full thirty seconds to realize what's happening. Her mind is divided amongst too many things—the post she's scrolling through on her phone, her attempt to get her straw into her mouth without looking, and navigating the shop without bumping into anyone or anything—and she almost misses the change in Kendall's tone. It's a Riley tone, or she things of it that way; it's the one Riley uses when a scheme of hers has been successful. It's not until Maya looks up (a little dazed and with her straw dangling from the loose grip of her teeth) that she discovers why Kendall has acquired and employed that particular tone of triumph. The aforementioned gentleman, seated at the table in front of them, is none other than Lucas Friar, their mutual acquaintance. Maya should be surprised, but after years of Riley pulling similar shenanigans, this is almost normal.
Lucas does look a little surprised, but less to see her and more because Kendall is shoving her down into the chair across from him before anyone can get a word in. Maya drops into place with a huff of air knocked out of her, caught off guard by the sudden descent. She catches her drink before any of it can spill. Once she locks her gaze on his, the connection doesn't waver. Not even when Kendall grips her shoulder in a tight squeeze and remarks about what a coincidence this entirely by chance meeting is (as if they aren't all keenly aware that this is a blatant set up). Maya waits for Kendall to take one of the other empty seats, even though, deep down, she knows that was never going to happen.
"Will you look at the time?" Kendall suddenly exclaims, her eyes on her bare wrist as if her skin possesses the power to tell time. "I completely forgot that I had somewhere to be. I'm so sorry, Maya. I really wanted to have a chance to chat, but I'm sure Lucas won't mind keeping you company for a while, would you? See? Kismet. All's well that ends well. I'll see you back in our room, later, of course, after my thing. You too have fun."
Maya is left staring open mouthed at her roommate's back as Kendall departs the coffee shop. Once Kendall is out of sight, Maya twists back around in her chair, closes her eyes and shakes her head. How had she not seen this coming? Is it that she's not yet fully attuned to Kendall's sneaky nature? It must be something, because Maya has prided herself on picking up on Riley's schemes from conception. It doesn't matter how good at subterfuge Riley becomes, Maya can always see through it. She thought she had the same transparency with Kendall, but, she sees now that she was wrong. Or, her own secret has created a blind spot (a Lucas sized blind spot), and her head has become just clouded enough that things are slipping by unnoticed. She needs to get a handle on this before she proves Riley right.
"I wasn't in on this," Lucas says and spins his own coffee cup in his hands. His features are scrunched; he's bracing himself for some overheated reaction from her, but she's not going to give him one (the Maya that has known him for years might have rolled her eyes, and "ha-hurred" in his face, but the Maya that's only just getting to know him believes this without hesitation. The other Maya would believe him too, but that wouldn't stop her from teasing him relentlessly over it anyway. She's making a choice here).
"Done deal," Maya mutters.
Lucas frowns, "What?"
Maya looks up at him and smiles. "Something Kendall said. I think we're gonna be seeing a lot more of each other. You think you're up for it?"
Lucas smiles back and nods, "I was already counting on it."
"Me too," Maya says and hides her growing grin behind her coffee.
This whole thing is ill advised—she knows it, he knows it—but even if this is a train wreck waiting to happen, what's stopping them from having a little fun in the meantime?
.
.
.
(the answer? Nothing).