A/N: I do not own Girl Meets World, the characters, the locations, the songs or quotes mentioned. But I do own this plot.

Also for those who are wondering; my story Finding Maya will be updated sooner than you think. I just need to finish a little editing and it will be up before the end of this week (I think). I hope you all look forward to reading it as much as I am to share it with you!


I'll never be your beast of burden

My back is broad but it's a hurting

All I want is for you to make love to me

I'll never be your beast of burden

I've walked for miles my feet are hurting

All I want is for you to make love to me

Am I hard enough

Am I rough enough

Am I rich enough

I'm not too blind to see

I'll never be your beast of burden

So let's go home and draw the curtains

Music on the radio

Come on baby make sweet love to me

- Beast of Burden; The Rolling Stones


"To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering one must not love. But then one suffers from not loving. Therefore, to love is to suffer; not to love is to suffer; to suffer is to suffer. To be happy is to love. To be happy, then, is to suffer, but suffering makes one unhappy. Therefore, to be happy one must love of love to suffer or suffer from too much happiness"

- Woody Allen


Chapter Four: The Weekend

I had to wait until after I clocked out to be able to tell Riley.

The day had dragged on and the night came quickly, to my pleasure. Closing doesn't usually take long for me to do but I would have to stop once in a while to help Jonathan with some of his math equations and I already did the orders once I saw there were only two customers in sight. After I was done with my calls, balanced today's earnings, and locked up the shop, I had phoned Riley on the way home with Jonathan. It was Friday; I get to spend the weekend with him.

"Maya Penelope Hunter, you are the epitome of a best friend a girl could ever have!" she squealed so loudly into my ear that I had to hold the phone rather from me and winced. She's got one hell of a mouth. I was in the corner seats of the subway, in a vacant cart, watching Jonathan happily climbing the rails like a monkey and awe at the lights that flash by in the underground tunnels. He hardly ever rides the subway so it's always an adventure for him.

"Tell me something I don't know," I said, smirking proudly.

"But what was he doing at Topanga's?" Her curiosity oozed through the phone. I can't tell whether it's her inner reporter speaking or herself. Then she gasped. "Was he there to see you?"

"No, Riles," I groaned. However, my heart lurched unexpectedly at the thought of it but it was cut quick after I reminded myself the reality that he was there for a quick visit before his business purpose. "He was in town for a meeting with the board of the Towers Hotel for that art exhibit he donated to."

"Oh yeah, the one you're so eager to go to."

I frowned. "Yeah, that one."

"Have you found a way to go?"

"I've given up on it. My next paycheck isn't going to give me enough to buy the tickets and they're expensive. Almost a grand. With the money I used to pay my share of the bills and to buy food, I won't be anywhere near to even bribe a bouncer. Plus, Jon is gonna be with us this weekend and you know how fast my money gets drained with him around."

"You really need to stop spoiling him."

"Says the spoiled princess herself."

"Touche. But every kid gets affected differently with the way they're spoiled. My parents spoiled me enough to not act so dramatic in public."

"Apparently they didn't do a very good job. You do tend to have your dramatic moments like -"

"Okay, I am the least dramatic person who has ever roamed the face of the Earth!"

With a smile, I rolled my eyes. "Whatever you say, Honey."

Then a screeching sound of metal scratching was heard as the subway slowed down to the next stop in schedule and Jonathan was running up to a pole so the force of the stop had caused him to lose balance and sent him stumbling onto the ground.

"Ow!" he cried. "Maya!"

"I gotta go, Riles," I sighed. "I'll talk to you more about it when I get home."

"Good. Because we're not finished yet," she stated matter-of-factly and hangs up. What a bossy girl she can be. I stick my tongue at my phone and then shoved it in my pocket as I approached my wailing half-brother.

"Alright, here we go," I said as I hauled him up onto his feet and kneeled before him. His eyes were glassy with tears and he had a reddish bump on the bridge of his nose. I lightly placed my hand it and he winced away from me.

"That hurts!" he whimpered. "I'm gonna die!"

"You're not gonna die, you dork," I said. "You just have a small bruise. When we get home we'll put some ice on that to stop the swelling. Next time, sit still in the subway unless you want to get a concussion."

"Okay."

"Alright." I cup his cheeks in my palms and tenderly kiss his bruise before I reach down for his hand. "Now stay close to me"

I clutch tightly on his small hand as the doors opened and a flood of passengers poured into the cart. I push a path for us to slip out of the crowd and then led us to the direction of the exit.


The neighbors were ecstatic to see Jonathan when we stopped at my floor. They were always so welcoming to him as if this was his home and he, in return, would be grateful of their hospitality, always striking an interesting conversation with them about his school days or listening to the elders about their childhood stories. I would allow them to spend time with him for a couple of minutes before I drag him away, telling them that it was past his curfew.

The light in the crack beneath the door indicated that Riley was still awake and most possibly waiting for me to attack me with more questions about my day at work with a certain bachelor. Shit. I was hoping that she would have gone to bed considering it was past ten - she always goes to sleep at ten since that was the curfew she grew up with. After the odd day I've had at work, all I wanted was to sink into a tub of hot water with Guns N Roses songs playing in the background and a nice glass of that fancy wine Charlie brought. But I knew my chances were slim the moment I walk through that door - it is in Riley's to not give up on a topic so easily.

I stalled a minute longer by digging through my pocket, pretending to search for my keys, however, I paused shortly when my fingers brushed against the material of the business card I have hidden. My encounter with Lucas at the shop was still fresh in my mind, every detail from his husky voice saying my name, his beautiful green eyes never breaking their gaze on me, to the sudden change in his demeanor was all still penetrated into my temporal lobe. The sensation of the electricity running through my veins was still alive and has me shook. It was hard to wrap around my brain the fact that the thought of him made me want to drown into the tension between us and vomit under the pressure.

I shook my head then quickly unlocked the door and held it open as Jonathan zoomed past me.

"Aunt Riley!" he cheered.

Riley was on the couch, engrossed in her laptop. Her fingers furiously typed on the keyboards with great determination. By the looks of it, she was putting together the latest additions of the newspaper, and probably re-editing her article on a specific cowboy I don't want to talk about. She dropped everything altogether at the sound of Jonathan's voice and she bounced towards him with open arms.

"Jon!" she squealed excitedly as she trapped him in a rather choking hold and swung him around. "I missed you so much, buddy! My God, you grew so much since I last saw you!"

"Auntie, that was last week," he laughed giddily.

"It's still too long!"

Throwing my keys on the table next to the door, I made my way to the couch. The cushions engulf my small frame, making it more difficult for me when I have to get up later on. The business card fell out of the pocket of my apron and on my lap. I took it in my hands and flipped it between my fingers.

"Are you hungry?" asked Riley. "Do you want anything to eat?"

"That's okay, Auntie," said Jonathan. "Maya took me to eat McDonald's before we got here so I'm full. I even got a cupcake for doing my homework and getting all the right answers!"

"Jon - eat," I said loudly. "You barely ate your chicken nuggets and the cupcake doesn't count as a meal. Do we have any of Mama Arroyo's food from last time?" I asked Riley.

"We have some leftovers," answered Riley. "But I don't think Jon is gonna like Pastelón and cuchifritos."

"It's better than nothing. Go ahead and fresh up, kiddo. I'll get it ready for you in a minute."

"But, Maya," Jonathan whined. "I'm not hungry!"

"Jon - bath - now," I said firmly.

Jonathan pouted and stuck his tongue out at me before he ran down the hallway, his large backpack swinging in different directions with his movements. I tilted my head back with a groan as I hear the door of my bedroom slam hard and ran my hands over my face.

"Don't slam doors!" I shouted even though I knew he couldn't hear me.

"Rough day?" inquired Riley as she dropped on the couch beside me and lifted my legs onto her lap to undo my shoes. After she slipped them off, I wiggled my toes in satisfaction as she gently massaged them, soothing my sore muscles into tranquility.

"You could say that," I sighed in contentment. "It was busier than usual today. I think this old man tried to get my number at some point."

Riley cringed. "That's disturbing. Why do old men go for younger girls?"

"To feel like a man again," I snorted. "Their balls are so wrinkled up and dry from all their years of rejected sex that all they could produce is powder. The heat of a girl's vagina helps liquefy it back to normal."

"Ew, Maya, that's an image that I didn't need to hear. I'm going to have nightmares tonight, thanks to you."

"Just drink some warm milk and you'll be fine."

I held up the business card above my head, turning it in different angles as I watched the engraved writings glow under the dim lights of our old lamps. Thinking back at the sight of him, every detail of him committed to memory, made my skin tingle in exhilaration and the corners of my mouth involuntarily curled upwards.

"What else happened at work?" asked Riley, peering at me through her lashes. She was still massaging my feet but the pressure was lessened by her curiosity.

"What?" I asked, fumbling with the card.

Riley smirked. "You have the smile on your face."

"As oppose to the millions smiles I've had all my life?"

"Maya. You know what I mean. You don't usually have that smile unless it's someone who caught your eye. I've only ever seen you wear that smile once since we've known each other but I recognize it everywhere." She inched closer to me to hover over me, her hair falling around us like a waterfall. "Now...who is it?"

I question the many abilities Riley possesses. How does she do it? She could read me easily like an open book. I'm beginning to think she has a sixth sense she isn't telling me about. Moments like this made me wish that she never got interested in journalism in the first place because she has a horrible tendency to try to get information out of me without knowing and I wish she could just turn it off like a switch but that would be a fool's dream. No matter how much I want to be able to hide things from her, Riley is always bound to find out. Except -

"Josh came by at the shop today," I said. I wasn't technically lying to her - I was avoiding what she really wants to hear.

I could hear her intake of breath. "What? How? When? Why?"

"He was doing Matthew's a favor and picked up my brother from school."

"What? How? When?"

"Today."

"What? How?"

"Most likely the subway and walked to the shop."

"What?"

"Riley, I think you know what!" I snapped. She dropped backwards from me, blinking at me with surprise, and that instantly made me feel guilty. I very rarely bark at her. "Sorry."

"Are you okay?" she asked instead.

"I'm fine," I sighed. "Just surprised to see him, that's all. I haven't seen him since last year after the breakup and all. Seeing him was just...bizarre."

"Why didn't you call me as soon as he left?" Riley inquired, her concern dripping on her tone.

I pursed my lips. Riley had been one of the few people who knew the real story behind my breakup with her uncle and she had been my guidance back to recovery of a broken heart. She would always be nervous whenever she learns that Josh and I are in the same building, afraid that we would have a round when we come together and to be caught in the middle of it all. I don't blame her for that but she doesn't have to think I'd make her choose between her family and me.

"Riles, nothing bad happened," I reassured her. "He stayed for a cup of coffee, we talked for awhile, and then he left. Nothing big."

"Maya…" Riley looked at me suspiciously. "What else happened?"

"Nothing."

"Maya."

"Riley."

"Tell me. Come on, you know I know that something else happened that you're not telling me. I can see it in your eyes."

I smiled amusingly. "Did you just quote a song?"

"Maya!"

"Okay, okay!" I moaned as I tilted my head back and laid an arm over my closed eyes. "He wants to get back together and kissed me before he left."

"What?" Riley shrieked. "He kissed you - you let him!"

"It was at the corner of my mouth so it doesn't count as a real kiss," I pointed out. "And I didn't initiate it. But...I didn't hate it." I shook my head. "It's been a year since we dated and I still...If he had planted a big smack on me, I think I would have said yes in a heartbeat if he asked me to still be his girlfriend again."

"But he didn't and thinking about it right now, do you want to get back together with him?" Riley frowned. "I mean, you guys were together for a long time."

"Yeah, we were." I slipped my arm off my eyes and placed my hands behind my head as I bit my lip. "I don't know if I want to get back together with him. I mean, yeah, I still have the same feelings for him and all but won't we end up the same way we ended?"

"You don't know that," she said. "Not everything works in the first time but if two people in the relationship see that what they feel for each other won't go away then they will do whatever it takes to make it work a second time around. Yes, you and Josh ended in terms that you don't speak to each other anymore but he obviously still loves you and you seem to still love him just as much so maybe trying it again won't hurt so bad. Remember, he is your first relationship ever and perhaps you were overwhelmed because of...well, your past."

"Which is one of the reasons why I don't think we should get back together," I stated. "Maybe I'll just stay single, grow old with forty cats, get a fat ass, and watch old game shows. That's what my Nana did."

"Maya, you won't do that," Riley said. "You're going to find the love of your life, you're gonna get married, have kids, and grow old together until death do you part."

"Yeah - no," I said sarcastically. "You'll never catch me wearing a wedding dress."

"You can't avoid the inevitable. You have to wear one when you get married."

"Riley, even if I did get married in the future, I will not be caught dead in a wedding dress. You'll probably see me wearing an all-white outfit with my trusty boots."

"Maya Penelope Hunter, you will not wear boots to your wedding!"

"You got no say in it - it's my wedding."

"Peaches!"

"Fine, fine," I chuckled, noticing that she sounded really upset and the pout on her lips was exaggerated. "Let's skip the wedding."

She seemed relieved but there was still concern in her eyes. "What are you going to do about my uncle?"

"I told him I'd let him know when we can talk after graduation. We'll see what I feel about it then. Right now, I'm just too braindead to think about that." I sat upright and held my hand out to her, the business card held between my fingers. "The cowboy gave me his number at the shop."

Riley gasped, her eyes growing into wide saucers, and yanked it out of my hand. "You weren't kidding!"

I pouted. "It hurts me that you think I'll joke about something like this."

"I can't believe it," she breathed out. "The richest, most eminent, and eligible bachelor of New York City just gave you his cell phone number? Do you know how lucky you are?"

"Not unless there is a reward for it," I smirked at her disbelief. "He said to call him before ten and he'll have a room rented for tomorrow morning."

"Yay!" Riley cheered merrily. She jumped on the couch, kicking my legs off her, and then she dramatically dropped herself on the cushions while holding her arms up in that odd position that reminds of the dance for the Village People's YMCA, the smile never leaving her face.

A loud thud was heard coming from beneath our floorboards and I scowled. Great, now Mr. Hopkins is going to come up here and complain at us for making so much noise. I irritatedly stomped my foot on the floor repeatedly before curling up into a ball.

"This is perfect!" she continued. "Now I just have to find someone to take the photos. I don't think Sage is in town - she went to Florida for a protest against the destroying of the trees and polluting the ocean. Oh, she's going to be so upset when she finds out she missed an opportunity to photograph one of the most influential men in America. She's a huge fan of his for the change he's done to prevent war from happening."

"What about our beloved friend, Cheese Souffle?"

"His name is Charlie, Maya," Riley giggled. "And he doesn't really do photography. He's more of a film director. Plus, he's getting ready for his future appointment with Francis Coppola so I don't think he'll want to get distracted for now."

"Not unless you're the one asking him - he'll do anything for you. I bet he'll even kill Bradford for you if you want."

"Why do you always keep insinuating things when it comes to Charlie?" Riley had a deep frown on her face. "I'm not interested in him that way, Maya."

"But he's sure as hell interested in your that way, Honey," I remarked. "If tomorrow was his last day to live, the boy would die happy knowing you even look his way. He's into you."

"Maybe." She paused, twiddling her thumbs in a shy manner. "I don't know. I mean...I'll admit he's gotten a lot...cuter...since middle school. But that doesn't change anything! I'm pretty sure I'm just like any other girl who thinks he's a catch. Is that a crime?"

"No, but you're not like any other girl, Riles." I slapped my knees while rolling my eyes. "I keep telling you this. Ever since Evan, you deluded yourself into thinking all the things Charlie does for you is 'friendly' when he clearly likes you. He's busy with college and work just like us but he still manages to make time to visit you - not us - you - because he's interested. And why wouldn't he? You're adorable, smart, and sweet."

"You're saying that because you're my best friend and you want to build up my self-esteem," she said with a cute smile.

I shook my head with a chuckle. "No, I'm saying it because it's true. You're adorable. Right now, if I go out there and ask all those people if it's true, they would all say the same thing. Especially when you're wearing your "I'm Riley" face right now."

Riley then cupped her face with her red-polished hands and formed a wide, perky smile whilst her eyes twinkled like sparkly stars. "I'm Riley!"

"You did it - I wanna squish your face."

"But, all joking aside," she said, all traces of her bubbly attitude replaced by her inner journalist. "I need to find someone to do the photos, but who am I going to find at the last minute?"

"Hmm...What about Jordan?" I suggested. He is a classmate of mine in photography and we worked from time to time for projects. I will have to admit his perspective is riveting and his stills are always marvelous.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Riley insisted. "Doesn't he go out with Alexis? I heard she can be a little possessive."

"Those two are always on and off. God knows what they are right now."

Riley then looked at me expectantly. "Why can't you do the photoshoot? You're a great photographer, too."

"I want nothing more to do with that Horseback-Riding-Pie-Eating-Ranger-Rick," I said firmly. "Just give them a call."

"Them?"

"First call Jordan for the photoshoot and then call the cowboy."

"Maya, you're the one in a relationship with him."

"Relationship?" I blinked at her. "Sweetheart, I am not in a relationship with that egotistic idiot. I barely know the guy."

"At least you got to meet him - twice as a matter of fact," she said bitterly. "And he seems to like you, too. He is one of the busiest men alive and he takes his time to go in the coffee shop you work in and he gives you his number." Her voice is now ecstatic. "It sounds like he really wants to know you."

"Or you're reading into too much," I retorted. "Riles, you need to stop thinking that every coincidence is a sign that something good is going to happen. A coincidence is just a coincidence."

"There are no coincidences, Maya. A coincidence is just the universe's way of saying hi."

"Right. And I suppose now you're going to tell me that he's my soulmate or something."

"He could be."

"I was kidding!"

"You never know!" Riley then reaches in the pocket of her sweatpants, pulls her phone out, and holds it out to me. "Call him!"

"No!" I push the phone back to her. "That's your article - your business!"

"Peaches, please!" she pleaded.

"Peaches, nothing!" I said. "I don't want anything to do with that cowboy again."

"Please!" She was practically bowing at me now. "You met him two times so you already know how to talk to him. He's expecting a call from you - not me. If you do this, I swear I will buy you anything you want and do whatever you want. Pretty please! This is so important to me."

For the first time ever, I wanted to reach across and slap her pretty smile off her face. I didn't have to do anything - I have nothing to do with this stupid article. My stomach erupts in wildly fluttering butterflies just thinking of hearing his voice again and a knot formed tightly in my very core knowing my name would roll off his tongue like butter. My cheeks grew warm. The effect I am getting at the thought of this cowboy was shocking since the only other man I know who used to - and still does to this day - was Josh.

From a distance, I heard a door creak open and - to my absolute relief and gratitude - later heard Jonathan's voice calling out, "Maya! I can't find my clothes anywhere!"

"Duty calls," I smirk smugly at her as I hopped off the couch and walked away from her. "Can you set up a plate for him? I'd appreciate it!" I added. I got a huff as a response and heard her muttering under her breath.

Reaching in my room, I find my bathed younger brother, wearing only a towel that was much too long for him, and his hair still dripping of water. He was hugging himself to stop his shivering but no avail. I reached for the jacket I have hanging on my doorknob and wrap it around him, rubbing my warmth from my hands into his shoulders.

"Your clothes are where I always put them," I said. I walk over to my closet, pulled it open, and drag out his small Captain America suitcase. Since he lives with the Matthews, I only hold a small portion of his wardrobe in my apartment enough for the weekend. Whatever clothes he wears on the first day would be left here and whichever clothes he wears on his last day would go home with him.

"I couldn't find it," he said quietly.

"It's alright." I playfully mess around with his wet hair, making it more disheveled, and I made my way to the door. "Your food is gonna be ready in a few."

"Maya?" he called out, his voice suddenly small. I turned to him in confusion.

"Yeah, bud?"

"When is dad coming home?"

I frown at his hopefully expression, a pang of guilt hitting me in my chest. He would always ask me this only before it was 'when is daddy coming home' and that honestly worries me. I don't want him to think Shawn less of a father because he is out there looking for our mother and will return home when his leads don't help him reach far only to search for more information about her. I don't want Jonathan to grow up resenting Shawn for trying to bring our family together again.

"We'll call him later and see when," I said with a tight smile. "Actually we'll FaceTime him and we could say goodnight to him."

His eyes diminished of color. "You don't know," he mumbled. "That's okay, sis."

Jonathan turned from me and started to pull his pajamas out of the suitcase. I stared at him, my heart crumbling in despair to see this sweet boy feeling a pain I tried so hard to protect him from, and I tried to keep a brave face on as I heard a couple of sniffles come from him.

"Hey now," I said softly as I approached him and tenderly wrapped my arms around his bare shoulders, embracing him tightly. "Don't cry, little tyke. Dad's coming back soon."

"When?" he whimpered.

"Hey, look at me." I grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him to face me while I kneeled in front of him. "He's coming back."

"But what if he doesn't?"

"Hey, hey, don't say that," I said firmly. "You know that isn't true. He's coming back."

"How do you know?"

"Because dad isn't a leaver - he's a stayer," I smiled, reminiscing those words he first told my mother when they first met. "He only leaves to do some important things and he comes back to be the best dad ever."

"I wish he stayed. Mom didn't."

I frowned. "Mom is...out doing some important things too. It just takes a lot longer than dad does. But I know for a fact that she misses all of us so much and she can't wait to come home." I lowered myself to sit, legs crossed, and held his hands. "Listen to me, Jon - I know you know my story of my father and how he walked out on me and our mom. I know it scares you but you don't have to be. Because Shawn - our father - is nothing like my father and he would never walk away on any of us."

Jonathan sniffled. "How do you know?"

"Well," I smiled fondly at him. "Mom had just me then she had me and dad - dad had mom and me - now mom has you, me and dad and dad has you, me, and mom. That's enough for him to stay for five lifetimes." I brush my thumb under his eye, catching a tear I don't think he noticed. "So don't cry. He's coming back."

"And mom?"

"One day," I said with such force. "She'll be home one day."

Jonathan tied his tiny arms around me and buried his face in the waves of my hair. I kiss his head and stroke his hair, closing my eyes as I took in the comfort of having him here in my arms, of knowing that every day I wake up, I won't be in my old rundown apartment with the police sirens wailing from a distance and a gunshot echoing into the middle of the night, because he is real. He is proof of what is my reality and I intend to keep him safe in the best ways I could.

"I love you," I whispered.

"I love you too, Maya."

"Good - you better," I grinned as we released each other. "Now go and get dressed. Riley has food ready for you."

"Okay!"

He raced over to the suitcase to start getting dressed and I left the room in fluid motion. Returning to the living room, I find Riley pacing around the living room, clutching her phone to her ear, and staring out of the window with a desperate expression. She looked like she was close to crying.

"Jordan, please?" she begged. "It's just this one time!"

I watch for a moment as she stayed quiet, listening to Jordan's voice that was muffled. Once it was silent, she stomped her foot and released a harsh breath.

"I know you only do landscapes but think of it this way - you could expand your horizons," she continued. "You could get paid to do people and places and get twice the fortune!"

"Give me the phone." I cross the room and take the phone from her. "Hey Jordan."

"Hunter?" He sounded fairly surprised.

"Yeah, it's Maya...Listen here, if you do Riley a solid, I can get her to do an extra on you in the newspaper and maybe even cover up the fair you went to weeks ago."

"But, Maya, I only do landscapes!"

"Landscapes, people - two different things, all shot by the same camera. Big whoop. It's true what Riley says. If you do this, you'll be doing more than places and could get paid more. If you're lucky, you might even get signed by a top company and be taken as a serious photographer for America's Next Top Models."

He groaned. "You're brutal."

"So you'll do it?"

"Fine. When and where is this photoshoot gonna take place?"

"Tomorrow morning at the Towers Hotel."

"What?" He was appalled. "Maya, that won't be enough time for me set up! I gotta load the equipment and then get it set up when I get there! Not to mention I gotta get the crew together for this!"

"Well, you better get on with it," I quipped.

"Not gonna happen," he said. "What's so important about this photoshoot anyway?"

"It's for Riley's article with Lucas Friar."

I could hear him lose his breath. "What?"

I smirked. "You heard me."

"Wait up - not the Lucas Friar? Of Friar International Trade Inc?" Jordan goes from disgruntled to awestruck in less than a second. "No way!"

"Yeah, yeah, he's a millionaire and all that."

"How'd you meet him?"

"Had to interview him for the school newspaper. Riley had the flu." I shrug, trying to sound casual. "Anyway, will you do it?"

"Hell yeah, I will!" He was excited now and I could imagine the idiotic grin on his face. "I'll call up the others right now!"

"Good. I'll send you the time later and we'll see you tomorrow." I end the call and toss the phone back to Riley, which she surprisingly caught since she doesn't have really good hand coordination. "It's all sorted out."

"Not yet." Riley had a shy grin while she held up the damned card and I glared at her.

"No way!" I confirmed.

"Please!"

"No!"

"Please!"

"No!"

"Pretty please!"

"How bout no?"

Riley cupped her cheeks and stuck her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout as she said in a meek voice, "Pretty please with cherries on top, Peaches?"

I dropped my head back with a groan. Not the Riley Face!

"Fine," I said in aggravation as I snatched the card from her and pointed a finger at her. "But you owe me, baby girl," I added in a low voice.

Grabbing my phone from the couch, I stormed off to the balcony, grumbling.

"Thank you!" she shouted before I slammed the door shut behind me.

I walked over to the lawn chairs we have put out here and sit on one of them as I examine the card between my fingers. The engraved letters and numbers glittered under the moonlight, the sight taunting me, encouraging me. I huffed out a breath then I unlocked my phone to dial in the number and I held it at my ear as I listened to the other end ring continuously. If I'm lucky, he won't answer or he'll block my number. I hope I won't have to keep on calling him because this was enough to send me over the edge.

As the ringing continued, I played out the conversation in my head. I don't even know what to say. At least, I don't know what to say to him nicely. I'm glad I sat down or else I'd be pacing impatiently. By the fourth ring, I was beginning to lose hope in hearing from him again and fall into relief to not have to go through this, when the loop suddenly stopped, followed by a husky and smooth voice answering, making every hair on my body stand proudly tall. My heart died then came back alive with quicker pulse.

"Friar." His tone is clipped and emotionless.

"Mr. Friar? It's Maya...Maya Hunter." I hadn't realized I was talking until I heard my own voice and I didn't recognize it. I sound pathetic. A brief pause passed. I slowed my breathing.

"Miss Hunter. It's a pleasure to hear from you so soon. What could I help you with?" His voice changed drastically; he sounded gleeful yet surprised and I think I felt a sense of warmth from him, too - sensually even. From the corner of my eye, I could see Riley eagerly staring at me through the glass door and I moved to the corner of the balcony where she has no sight of me, not wanting her attention.

"The photoshoot for the article," I said. "Riley agreed and she would like to know the hour most convenient for you."

Another short pause flew by before he spoke again. His voice now serious. He was now speaking business. "Yes, of course. May I ask why Miss Matthews didn't call me for this matter or was she able to convince you to be the one to handle me again?"

"You could say that," I murmured. I couldn't deny the sly smile curling up on my face at his playfulness wavering at the end of his voice. At least he somehow knew that I wasn't all up for this.

"Forgive me for my forwardness, Miss Hunter, but I'm glad to that you called and not Miss Matthews," he said with such ease.

The butterflies went berserk in my stomach. He's interested in you, Riley's voice echoed in my head but I immediately crushed it. This was just him turning on the charm - the same I'm sure he uses on any woman who intrigues him and dazzles them with what they want to hear. I am sure every woman who crossed his path he made them feel special. It was his nature. He is a hunter who looks for prey and pounces at the right moment. I won't be persuaded by him.

"I spoke to our photographer and he's in," I said shortly. "I just need the hour and they'll meet you at the hotel tomorrow."

"Will you be joining them?"

"No. I have family matters to attend to," I said. Family matters as in I'm so happy I have a little brother to use as an excuse to not get bothered by you.

"That is a shame," His voice dripped in honesty. "I was looking forward to see you again, Miss Hunter. I never got to tell you that your services today was superb. I know where to go to whenever I come to town now."

I can almost conjure up the image of his sly smile through the phone.

"I'll message you the hour." He was abruptly short. "I apologize but I am currently on my way to an important conference meeting. I hope you understand."

"Alright," I replied. I don't really understand - I'm not a CEO of a million dollar corporation with a busy schedule and the pressure of the whole world to keep the peace balanced. I'm just a college student struggling to come up with a piece for a class and being constantly harassed by old perverts because of my waitress uniform. I definitely don't understand.

"Thank you," he said. Another pause came and went before he spoke again. This time, his tone was lighter and pleasant. "I hope to see you again one day. Have a good night, Maya."

"Good night, Lucas," I whispered, the devil in me breaking through. It felt so good to say his name, having a sense that it makes the corners of his mouth quiver into a smile or his lips harden into a displeased frown. Either way, it was a sick pleasure to know I have an effect on him somehow.

I went back inside and shoved my phone in the pocket of my apron. In the kitchen, Jonathan was sitting by the counter, eating the meal Riley generously prepared for him, dressed in his Spiderman pajamas, and chatting animatedly with Riley about the latest episode he watched of Tom and Jerry. I smiled at this. It makes me really happy to see that he was more into the 90's comedy than the pathetically reused ones of this generation.

My phone suddenly vibrates and I quickly slip it out. From the corner of my eye, I could see Riley glance up at my arrival, her obvious eagerness surfacing, as I approached them and sat next to Jonathan, my eyes never leaving the text message that had appeared on my screen.

212-540-8042: 9:40 AM

"I got the time," I murmured. "I'll forward it to you." Yet when I look up from the screen, I could see Riley smiling knowingly with a surprisingly devious glint in her eyes. "What?"

"Peaches, you blushing!" she said in awe. "You like him!"

I nearly dropped my phone, briefly frozen in shock at her declaration, before I regain my composure and raised my chin to seem unaffected as I scoffed.

"I'm not blushing," I said indignantly.

"Yes you are," she stated. "You like him - you so like him!"

"No I don't!"

"Ooh, Maya's got a boyfriend!" sang Jonathan with a teasing grin.

"Shut it, you pain in the neck!"

"Maya and her boyfriend sitting in a tree -" both Riley and Jonathan started to sing simultaneously before I let out an aggravated groan and climb off the counter to storm off to my room with a very flushed face as their laughter trailed behind me.

"You guys are dorks!"

It was until after I locked the door and dropped on my bed that I started to replay the conversation in my head. His voice was so husky and velvet, very sensual and seductive. The fact he was adamant about seeing me again the next day made my mind go in a crazy flurry and my stomach twist in all kinds of turns. My heart was also palpitating ferociously at Riley and Jonathan's teasing of my nonexistent relationship with an unattainable man like Lucas Friar.

I jumped slightly when I felt my phone buzz in my hand and when I unlocked it, I saw that it was a message from said man. Speak of the devil and he doth appear, Hunter.

212-540-8042: I certainly hope to see you accompanying Miss Matthews, Maya. Have a wonderful night.

Instinctively, I bit my lip. And there it is again, his suggestive way of words. I could see that charming grin of his slapped across his face, amused knowing that he could easily crack a small smile from me or leaving my comebacks stuck in my throat, and he is probably sitting through the rest of his conference meeting in gratification that he had the final word.

I pushed myself off the bed and made way to the attached bathroom to freshen up before bed. After I tied my hair back into a loose ponytail, I turned on the faucet and splashed the lukewarm water over my face. As I closed my eyes, feeling the sensation of running water running over my skin, I saw the image of two crystal green eyes staring at me behind my eyelids, and I subconsciously grip on the edges of the sink as my breathing slowed into deep breaths. Then I popped my eyes open and looked at my reflection staring back at me. Only that girl in the mirror looked nothing like me. Pink cheeks and dilated pupils in smitten eyes. This was the ghost of my past twelve-year-old self.

What the hell is happening to me? That damn cowboy can't seem to get out of my head for some reason. He was everywhere. I could be asleep or awake or blinking and he would be there with that patronizing grin and those taunting, beautiful eyes. My provoking thoughts of him consuming my time was frightening and bothersome. I feel like a hypocrite letting my morals get bent over a pompous jerk.

I slammed the faucet shut, left the bathroom, ignoring my phone that drew an unbearable temptation to me to read the message a thousand times, and then went to my closet to pull out my pajamas for the night.


Jonathan's curfew came around; he would stay in my room for the weekend and I would sleep in the living room couch. I would hide my unmentionables and lock up my other inappropriate items that he should never see so young the day before. We killed the time by watching his favorite TV shows and movies until his head lolled onto my shoulder and released a few light snores. Riley had left to the balcony to talk to Jordan about the details of the photoshoot while I carried Jonathan to my room and tucked him in. It was after I planted a chaste kiss on his forehead that he woke up and reminded me to FaceTime Shawn to say goodnight to him.

Right now, I am snuggled under my purple covers with Jonathan cuddled into my side, his eyes drooping groggily as we waited for our video call to be answered by our father. The physical exhaustion I've been holding back today from work was now beginning to catch up to me and my muscles were sore. My eyes would drop and my head would tilt into the pillows momentarily or the phone would slip from my hands. Jonathan had to be the one to hold it while I fought against the sleep creeping up to me.

After the eleventh ring, I was going to suggest that we call it a night when the connection finally went through and a live feed of our father's face appeared on the screen.

"Hello?" he greeted drowsily.

"Dad!" Jonathan said loudly, his eye lit up in happiness.

"Jon?" Shawn rubbed the grogginess out of his eyes, a tired smile crept onto his face. "Hey son."

"Hi dad - I miss you."

"I miss you too, kiddo. What are you doing up so late?"

I tilted the phone to my direction. "Jon just wanted to say goodnight to you before he went to bed. He misses you alot and wanted to talk to you for a bit."

Jonathan took the phone back. "Dad, when are you coming home?"

"Hmm...probably sooner than I thought. I give it like a week before your sister's graduation."

I raised a brow. "So soon?"

"Yeah, it turns out that everything I needed to look for wasn't exactly here," said Shawn with a disappointed frown and I couldn't help but copy it. "I'm going to stay a little extra longer to make sure I didn't miss anything important. If I did then I'll find it - hopefully."

I nodded in understanding while Jonathan was shaking in excitement. He doesn't know that Shawn and I are speaking code around him. In reality, Shawn is telling me that he wasn't able to find mom with the leads he got.

"I'll let you two catch up," I said softly. "Jon, make sure to put my phone to charge when you're done, okay."

"Okay."

I smoothed his hair back and kissed his head before I climbed off the bed to leave the room. Before I went to the living room, I left the door slightly ajar, a little crack, just to let the light of the room to beam from the hallway into the dark room. I started to do this habit when Jonathan was around five and he had a nightmare of a scary clown coming out of the closet, wanting to eat him. He's probably over that fear by now but I like to be sure.

I went over to the couch, pulled back the covers, and crawled on the pillows. I felt weird wearing pants but I didn't want to traumatize Jonathan by seeing me in my underwear. As I lay there, trapped in a tight cocoon, I stared through the glass of the door to balcony, seeing Riley's silhouette flick by time to time and listening to her muffled voice speak erratically into the phone. My mind was wrapped up in the heart-wrenching news Shawn told me; my mom was nowhere to be found again.

Another attempt to be a whole family had slipped away again. Another door closed. Another piece of my hope crushed.

I had to take a calming breath and clench my jaw to stop myself from quivering into the verge of tears. I had to remember to not grind my teeth. My mother had scolded me a thousand time when I was younger for doing that; apparently my grinding would sand down my teeth to an unnaturally flatten plane. It was a bad habit I try hard to break. It is ironic, too. When I was a little girl, my front teeth would be protruding out, making me seem almost like a beaver, and after a couple of unfortunate months wearing braces, my teeth are now too alike due to my grinding.

But with the stress I've been handling this year. If it weren't for that then I don't think I would have grinded my teeth as much, sanding them down into perfectly aligned planes, and making it look unnatural. From struggling with my projects at school to working double shifts at the shop and to trying to take care of my younger brother as much as I could to my endlessly worrisome about my mother and trying to keep Jonathan distracted from Shawn's absence, a lot of pressure was dropped onto my shoulders. Then with Josh wanting to come back into my life, it added more weight to the pile.

I buried my face in my pillow as I pulled the covers over my head and released a flood of broken sobs. I balled up into a fetus position and my hands flew up to my mouth to silence my cries but they still sounded clear because I couldn't stop my fingers from trembling as I heaved. I wish I could have those two calloused hands of my mother to tenderly wipe away my tears whenever I'd harm myself and caress my hair as a form of comfort.

I remember that one night when I was five and a strong storm had taken over New York; the thunder roared loudly that it shook the apartment and the lightning was so bright I thought the world was on fire. I was under my covers, crying helplessly for it all to go away, and in came my mother flying into my room, peeked under my covers, and she decided to make it a game. She made it seem like we were in Alaska looking for gold and the lightning was the northern lights - that was when I learned about the aurora borealis.

My mother had been working her third double shift of the week but she still had the energy to come to my aid and protect me from my fear. She was petrified as well by the storm but she held a brave structure so I wouldn't be. She spent the night in my room, cradling me in her arms like a newborn, and lightly humming Journey's Don't Stop Believing into my ear to add as a soundtrack to our mythical adventure until I fell unconscious in a dreamless sleep. The next morning I would find her dressed in her old Nighthawk Diner waitress uniform and preparing my breakfast.

That only made me cry harder. I couldn't suppress the tears and whimpers. I just let my heart leak out through the cracks and pour out onto my face.

I think the noises I made had reached Riley because, a minute later, she was bolting through the door with an alarmed expression, and the next moment, she has my head nestled in her chest as she quietly hushed me.

"Shh, Maya, shh," she said softly into my ear. "What's wrong? What's going on?"

"Sh-Sh-Shawn!" I cried. "N-no...mom!"

"Oh, honey."

Riley hovered over me, her hands balancing herself on either side of my head, and carefully squeezed herself between me and the couch. She wrapped an arm around my waist, and slid the other beneath my head as she hugged me tightly from behind. I, out of pure instinct, reach for her hand under my head and entangled our polished fingers together as my tears dripped down to her arm.

We didn't say much - we didn't have to. Riley already knew. She always does. And she understood that all I needed was for her to hold me like this and to quietly hum Journey into my ear until I drifted off into a restless sleep.


I was rudely woken up in the middle of the night by Jonathan shaking my shoulders. I fluttered my eyes open and see his form towering over me, the moonlight shining through the balcony windows revealing a small portion of his face. I could see his cheek was moist, his lips trembling with his hiccups, and his eyes were glazed over with tears. He had the quilt draped over his shoulders.

"Scary clown?" I guessed, my voice scratchy in sleep.

"He dragged me down a hole and nobody heard me scream," he weeped.

"Remind me to beat the crap out of Matthews for letting you watch IT," I grumbled.

Lazily, I held up the covers for him to crawl into and I let it fall down on top of us as I wrapped my arm around his torso. He got comfortable using my arm as a pillow and he curved into my embrace while he tried to stop stop his whimpers.

"Don't worry, there's no scary clown here to take you away," I said softly. "I won't let that happen."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Jonathan snuggled deeper into my arms and soon relaxed into a deep slumber. I listened to his slow breathing for a few minutes to make sure that he was truly asleep and when I saw his arm fall over the edge of the couch, I allowed myself to fall into unconsciousness once more.


In the morning, I wasn't feeling much better. Breakfast was out of the question with me for my uneasy stomach, but when I woke up and went to the kitchen after I got dressed, Riley had already gone and left a note saying she made some breakfast for us that she left in the oven for us. I only ate half of mine before I shoved the rest on Jonathan's plate before he came back from dressing up in the bedroom. I swallowed a granola bar in three bites, chased it down with milk straight from the carton, and then hurried out the door.

Jonathan had been waiting for me in the corridor, chewing on his own granola bar, as he watched the Gonzalez boys playing a traditional circle game in front of their apartment door. He has the strap of his large dufflebag across his torso, stuffed with all the sports equipment he has planned for us to play today. I locked the door then placed the spare key on top of the door frame before I took Jonathan's hand and we walked our way to the staircase.

The landlord was at his desk downstairs. He was in a chipper mood when he greeted us then bidded us a farewell.

Today we were going to Central Park. In honestly, I don't really like the park; too many tourists go there at this time of year and their stereotypical expectations about it tend to annoy me. Jonathan wanted to go there because it is his favorite and I don't argue with him to ruin our weekend together - Riley might be right that I spoil the kid too much. I didn't feel like taking the subway and the walk would be an hour to get there so we opted to taking my car.

Jonathan loved my car but I love it more. I was there when Shawn bought it; he had gone out a dealership to buy a car that was more 'family material' after he learned that mom was pregnant with Jonathan and he was close to owning a minivan when this beauty caught his eye. Of course, mom was not thrilled at the idea of her unborn child being in a car that didn't have any child locks or other protection services but she couldn't deny that she had fallen in love with it - she has an undeniable love for classic cars and that is one of the reasons why Shawn fell for her.

The car wasn't in good shape back then. The rims were bent, the headlights weren't functioning, the doors wouldn't lock, the wipers wouldn't move, and the engine wasn't in good condition. It took months to restore her back into her remarkable glory. The stuff for the baby was the first thing we all bought before we actually began to work on the car; we had spent paycheck after paycheck searching for the parts, watch various YouTube videos on how to fix, read multiple manuals, until finally, we spoke to Brandon about it and he helped us. It was a tortuous road to get her to the way she is now but those precious moments where Shawn and I would joke around or he would teach me the functions of the car were irreplaceable.

That is why this car is so special to me. It holds the times when everything was simple, so easy, so right. From the day it was purchased to the day Jonathan was born up to the days when we took a small trip during my spring break before it was taken away from me.

Once in the car, I started the engine and turned the AC on high. It has been getting a bit warmer these day, no doubt because of summer coming close, and the cool had decreased overnight. I remember waking up with the covers and quilt were bundled up at the corner of the couch, which Jonathan or I had kicked off in our sleep because it was too warm for us.

I drove along with the traffic of New York. There was a car accident between 9th and 7th Avenue, and a sheriff was guiding the flow in a steady yet slow fashion as the paramedics attended the wounded. I was irritated for two reasons. One, I want to know who was the so-called genius that gave the idiot a license. Two, the one thing I hate about this generation is that everybody has to pull out their cellphones to record the whole scene like their lives depended on it and that is holding up the traffic.

Thankfully, I managed to turn onto the 5th Avenue and went along on a smooth drive to the park. Jonathan played with the stereo as I drove, his face brightening up as an Ed Sheeran song came up.

"Do you think one day I'll drive this car?" he asked.

"One day when you're old enough," I paused. "Just not this one."

Jonathan frowned. "Why not?"

"Because this is my car."

"No - it's dad's car!"

"Which he gave me," I smirked proudly.

"How come dad gave you the car?" he demanded. "How come he doesn't give me the car?"

"Because one; I know the rules of the road and I have a license and I need it," I answered easily. "And two; you're only eight. You're not old enough to drive yet, let alone get a permit. When you're older, you can drive."

"Can we get some ice cream today?" he asked; he always changes the subject at the least expected moments.

"It's a bit too early for ice cream, bud. Maybe a little later around lunchtime we could get some," I said.

We reached the park in a couple of minutes and I parked in a surprisingly open space close to the field. I reached for the dufflebag in the backseat as Jonathan practically leapt out of the car, cheering in joy. I locked the door and followed him into the heart of the park, smiling in delight to see him be free with his craziness, chuckling at his shouts, and a little bit embarrassed when he dropped to the ground to roll around the grass, making some parents stare in bewilderment.

I dropped the dufflebag on a vacant bench next to a water fountain and brought out the equipment for baseball - which is really only one baseball and a glove. I bought these from DICK's Sporting Goods but I couldn't afford for the bat and extra glove because I needed to pay for rent. I tossed them to Jonathan, who was barely able to hold his excitement together, and zipped up the bag.

"Alright, kiddo, you ready?" I asked as I rolled my shoulder and cracked my fingers to loosen my muscles. It has been a long time since I played catch.

Jonathan was tossing the ball in the air and catching it in his glove. "You betcha!"

I smiled. "Okay. Now give me your best fastball. Just like dad taught you."

"Okay!"

I watch as Jonathan exhaled deeply, his eyes fixated on me with hidden intentions, before he reared his hand back and threw the ball at me with such velocity. I caught it without a problem, though, I winced a little at the sting in my palm. It felt like fire. I endured it when I see Jonathan laugh gleefully.

"Good job!" I tossed the ball back to him. "Let's try a curveball. Hold your pointer finger out, put your middle finger on the bottom seam, and your thumb on the back seam."

Jonathan complied, double-checking his grip before he prepared himself and threw the ball back at me. My eyes followed the rotating ball as it flew, watching it zoom into an arch towards me, and then caught it in my hand before it collided with my face. The force almost made my wrist snap back. Jonathan wasn't technically strong but for a little kid, he was really good.

"Very good," I praised, impressed, as I flung the ball back to him. "Put a little more snap on your wrist and you'll be golden."

"Okay!"

We continued on with our game of catch. I would tell Jonathan to try different types of pitches and show him by hand on how he should grip the ball. He needed to work more on his curves and his timing but he was exceptional compared to the other kids in the park. He mastered the slider quickly as it made me stoop down a couple of times to catch the ball; I decided to stay crouched down like a catcher. It challenged him more to focus on his arches and his handling.

"Maya, can I ask you something?" he asked after he caught the ball.

"You already did," I said. "But what is it?"

"How come you don't play baseball anymore?"

"Oh!" I caught the ball again and held it in contemplation. My hand was a bit inflated and red-skinned from the continuous assault so the tiny break was much needed.

Although, I was taken aback by his question; during my middle school years, sometime after my mother and Shawn had gotten together, Shawn had encouraged me to try more physical activities outside of school that may help me grow closer to my mother and she suggested for me to try for the local baseball games at Great Lawn. I didn't like it. I had to run too much, the loud shouts from the obnoxious crowd were earsplitting, the crude comments from the player's fathers were getting on my nerves, the umpire having an odd odor made me want to vomit, and the blistering heat of the sun burning down on me gave me a horrible sunburn. I wasn't much of a sports player - I was more of one with the crowds.

Nevertheless, it did help me and my mother get closer to the point we were attached to the hip because our discussions about the games were a great conversation or she would give me a few pointers for when I was up to batch and learned the types of pitch in case they allowed me to play the position. She used to be a member of the Arkansas Dixie Youth Baseball so she knew what she was talking about. Actually she was the only girl in her hometown that tried out for the team and rose up the roster as a star player. I could imagine her joy to see me attempt to play her favorite sport and I give credit to Shawn for his sly plan to get us together.

It wasn't until my senior year that I stopped playing the sport altogether. I told most of my friends, mostly Riley, that I wanted to focus more on my art development and my applications for college if I wanted to study the major I desire but, in reality, I didn't play anymore because that was the time when my mother had gone missing. I continued to play in the local games because it brought elation to my mother and it helped us rebuild our relationship but when Shawn admitted he reported my mother missing, I lost the inspiration to play again.

"I had to focus on school," I lied, keeping my voice from wavering at the end, and tossed the ball back to him. "I had to work, study, and help out dad with stuff. I didn't have time to play baseball."

"So you think I should play ball?"

"I don't see why not," I said, catching the ball again. "I'm sure the same coach is still there."

"Will you be there? And dad?"

"I could try. I think I might still have the old coach's number. I'll call him up and see when you could try out for the team and I'll take you."

A small part of me really wanted to see how much the local team had changed since my last game. With the rise of feminism, most women nowadays are encouraging their daughters or younger siblings to try alternative motives that would allow equality between genders. When I last played, it was mostly presumptuous boys from my school who would come to the field and I'd have to basically threaten him socially to not treat me like some sort of damsel in distress because I'm a girl.

"YAY!" cheered Jonathan.

I laughed as he flung the ball towards me. He was doing a little dance so the coordination of the ball was a little off and it ended up rolling to my feet. His natural bliss of the little things was always a merriment to me; he reminded me so much of Riley in every way. There is always a smile, a laugh, or a twinkle in his eyes that made me soften up towards him. He rarely cries - he usually does when he has a scrap or over a sad scene of a movie. Last night was the first time in a while since I seen him over Shawn.

"WATCH OUT!" a voice shouted from a distance, breaking out of my trance on my little brother, only to gasp in horror.

A frisbee was hurdling towards Jonathan's direction at an impressive momentum and a rottweiler is seen chasing over it. Jonathan noticed this and he cowered into a small ball, flailing his arms over his head as he screamed in terror. I immediately ran up to him and tackled him out of the way just as the dog dived for the frisbee, miraculously catching it in the air. I had maneuvered us so we could land on my back with a thud and cushioned Jonathan in my arms.

"You okay?" I grunted.

Jonathan nodded with an uneasy smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."

I helped us both stand up and I looked over at the dog as it - or he, now that I saw his backside - walked gaily back to the owner, who was crouched down with his hand stretched out.

"Hey!" I yelled, my face red in rage, as the dog handed the frisbee to the owner. "Watch where you're throwing that thing next time! That mongrel of yours almost knocked over my little brother!"

The owner lifted their head up and all of my anger disappeared once I saw their face. It was a man. Not just any man, but a familiar one who I've had the luck and displeasure to meet the previous day.

"Miss Hunter," he greeted formerly, that idiotic grin slapped on his face.

"Mr. Babineaux," I gasped.

It indeed was Zay Babineaux, the flirtatious best friend and CFO of the enigmatic Lucas Friar. He was dressed in a hoodie and baggy shorts. He straightened up and strided towards me in a graceful fashion with his dog loyally on his side. I instinctively pulled Jonathan behind me, warily staring at the dog who has drool dripping from his mouth.

"Surprised to see you here," I said. "I thought you'd be at some meeting or something you businessmen do."

"It's my first day off of the month," he answered. "I'm surprised to see you here as well. I was actually planning to head over to your shop for another cup of coffee. The one you made yesterday was delicious."

"It's my job," I stated.

"Sorry for bugging you," he said with a sheepish grin, holding up the frisbee. "I tried not to throw it too hard but Buck over here was getting antsy. He turns into an old grouch when he doesn't get the exercise he wants." He patted his pet's head affectionately. "Ain't that right, boy?"

The dog's response was a pleased bark and leaning into Zay's palm.

Jonathan peeked around from behind me. "Does he bite?"

"Nah, he doesn't bite," Zay chuckled. "He's a good boy. As big and intimidating he looks, he's actually a softy on the inside. Go on - pet him."

Jonathan was hesitant, glancing between me and the dog, before he took a tentative step towards the pet, his hand held out. It shook violently. And when the dog stood up, Jonathan let out a small yelp and hid behind me again.

"He won't bite," reassured Zay.

"Dogs aren't particularly Jon's favorite animal," I said. "He is more of a cat person. We had one, Fat Louie, but we took him to a farm when he got sick."

Zay nodded in understanding. I'm pretty sure anyone knew that cover-up story.

"Well, he doesn't have to worry about Buck," he spoke. "He's more of a protector rather than an attacker, mostly Lucas and I. So if it makes him feel any better, since he's your brother and you know Lucas, any friend of his is a friend of mine and that's an okay on Buck's book."

"Who says we're friends?" I questioned. I didn't mean to sound impolite to him but his infamous friend makes my lips loose.

Zay looked stupefied. "I just assumed you two are friends since he won't seem to shut up about you. Actually I thought you'd be at the photoshoot today - he told me you might come."

My face heated up. He talks about me? I licked my lips and crossed my arms, almost as if I'm trying to hide away from this discovery.

"My weekend is of me and my brother," I replied. "I wasn't going to cancel my plans to watch your friend get photographed."

"That's a shame," he murmured. "He was looking forward to seeing you."

So I've been told. I shrugged. "I understand but I rather spend time with my brother. I only talked to your friend to help out Riley with her article. It was important to her so I did it. I don't think I have anything to do with the photoshoot."

"Your way of helping is really dedicated then," he grinned. "Guess you're more than a blonde beauty, arentcha?"

"I guess."

Behind me, Jonathan tugged on the tail of my shirt and I glanced down at him. "Maya, can we go back to playing now? I wanna play!"

"Okay," I laughed lightly while ruffling his hair.

Then Buck nudged his leg with his nose and stared up at him with expectant eyes.

"Alright, alright. Sheesh, you're bossy." He turned to me. "If you do change your mind, after I'm done with here, I'm going to meet up with Lucas back at the hotel. Since your friends are there, you could catch up with them too."

"I'll take that under consideration. Have a good day, Mr. Babineaux."

"You too. And in the future, just call me Zay. Mr. Babineaux makes me sound too old."

"Alright."

I grabbed Jonathan's hand and dragged him with me, briskly making our way back to the bench where our dufflebag is. I slumped down on the bench while Jonathan went to the water fountain, claiming to be thirsty after the game, and I tilt my head back as I let out a deep sigh, letting out all of the suddenly pent up feelings I've kept bottled up doing that conversation. I couldn't identify what they were. Elation? Irritation? Bliss? Confusion? I am certainly confused now.

Apparently, Lucas Friar talks about me? What is it about me does he talk about? Was he making fun of the way I interviewed him? Did he find me rude? Inappropriate? Or was he really interested in me?

I shook my head. Get that out of your head, Hunter! Don't be stupid!

Jonathan came back and sat down next to me, looking at me with an unreadable expression. I arched a brow at him.

"Take a picture, kid," I said. "It'll last longer."

"Is Lucas your boyfriend?"

I nearly choked on my own saliva. "Say what now?"

"Is this Lucas guy your boyfriend?"

"No! What makes you say that?"

"Your face is red," he pointed out. "And that Lucas guy talks about you. Isn't that what boyfriends do?"

"And who told you that?"

"Riley. She told me that boyfriends are supposed to make their girlfriends feel special, like a princess. Is that true?"

I smiled lightly at him. "Yes. That's what they're suppose to do. But Lucas isn't my boyfriend, bud. He's just a guy who has a crush on me." Or a weird obsession.

"Is he not good enough for you?" he questioned.

"I don't know…" I trailed off. I never really bothered to wonder if a man is good enough for me. Last time I did was with Josh and I still ended my relationship with him even though he was nothing but good to me. I don't know what 'good enough' is for me. I don't have high standards in men except maybe - I shook my head. I am NOT going there.

Jonathan cocked his head to the side and looked at me curiously. "You wanna go see him?"

"No," I said despite the inner voice in my head saying, yes, and I wish I could slap that idiotic part of me. "I'd rather pack up all this stuff and go get some ice cream with you."

"I wanna go see him." Jonathan hopped off the bench and started to pack up the baseball equipment. His declaration baffled me.

"You don't want ice cream?"

"Yes. But I wanna see this Lucas guy."

"Why?"

Jonathan turned to me with a surprising serious expression that I rarely see on him and his lips were pursed tightly. Then he said in a small voice, "I don't want you to get hurt."

My heartstrings were tugged violently as I hear the concern in his tone and the disturbing gleam in his wonderful eyes. My period of heartache after my breakup with Josh had affected Jonathan greatly through my tears and depressing moods. He had tried to cheer me up by making up silly dance moves, telling me good news of his achievements, setting up comedy movies nights, showing me funny virals videos, and even tried to convince me to let him console to me about the breakup but I'd lash out of him in blind anger and ignorance. It made him cry and that made me cry. We recoiled shortly and I fell into his routine of healing my heart until I didn't think of Josh anymore.

"And the ice cream?"

"Later. It's too early for ice cream anyway."

I smiled in bewilderment. For an eight year old, he has an impressive mindset.

"Alright then." I rose and stretch my arms over my head. "Let's go and meet up with Zay."

Jonathan nodded then held out his hand to me. I took it tightly in mine and strapped the dufflebag over my shoulder before we trekked our way to the same direction we last saw Zay Babineaux take off.


The Towers Hotel is not deep in the heart of Greenwich Village. It is a splendid red stone architecture that stood taller than the other buildings in sight, standing high in its original elegance of structure and carvings. Its window glass designs glowed its marvelous colors under the golden lights inside. Not many people stayed in it unless it is the rich society members escaping from their territorial wives with their not-so-secretive mistress, a pair of aroused teenagers trying to shag like desperate bunnies in heat, or it is crowded in noisy tourists. The summertime was the worst because of them.

I've only been in this location once; I was helping Topanga help set up a reservation for Shawn and my mom for their wedding night. They went to Fiji on their honeymoon but their flight wasn't until the morning after. I barely remember how this place looked inside yet I personally thought the place was best for the photoshoot. I could only imagine the sorts of shots Riley is getting in this polished place. And I wouldn't lie that a small - a very small, tiny, miniscule - part of me was curious to see how those pictures of Lucas Friar turned out.

I was traveling behind Zay's Mercedes-Benz with Jonathan, yet again, playing with the radio, twinkling with it until he found a Clean Bandit song playing. I was anxious as we trailed behind Zay into a valet parking lot, staring at the classically dressed employees patiently waiting and watching my eyes with lustful eyes, which made me smirk. I watched as Zay spoke to one of them through the window for a moment before he planted a huge wade of cash in the young man's cash and then stepped out of the vehicle. We followed him after he waved at us but I was skeptical about handing my keys to them.

"They're not going to rob your car or anything," said Zay, chuckling merrily at my doubtful face. "I made sure they have it parked in my usual space and use the spare one for yours."

"Can't I just park my own car?" I insisted. I didn't want to let go of my baby to some kid.

"Then they wouldn't be doing their job," Zay pointed out. "They get paid to do this, otherwise they'd just be standing here like a bunch of statues. Besides, we can't hold them up any longer." He pointed behind me.

I looked over where he was directing and I could see a line was beginning to form directly behind me. I could feel the tension rising from the other drivers - as if I cared. I sighed heavily before I reluctantly dropped my keys in the boy's hand. I then reached out to grab on his collar and yanked him towards me, glaring madly into his fearful eyes. I could feel him trembling under my grasp.

"One scratch on this car and that will be the end of your pathetic, undeveloped life," I growled severely. "Got that?"

The young boy gulped loudly enough for me to hear and nodded timidly. "Y-yes, ma'am!"

"Good boy." I smirked as I released him. He ducked his head, muttering a prayer under his breath, as he climbed inside my car and cautiously closed the door. I kept my eye on him as he slowly drove my baby down the line until he disappeared among the row of cars. I broke my gaze at the feel of Zay's hand clamping on my shoulder.

"If he does end up damaging the car in some way, just let me know and I'll pay for the repairment," he said. "It was my idea to go through valet parking."

"I don't want your money," I shook my head. "You don't get it - that car is a classic, total vintage. I want every part of it to stay original."

"Maya is a car freak," added Jonathan. "He got it from our dad."

"I prefer the term car enthusiast."

"I have a love for cars as well so I get what you're trying to tell me," said Zay. "And I'm sure it'll stay that way after we come back."

Zay nodded his head to the main door as he tugged on Buck's leash and led him towards the entrance. I huffed obnoxiously, rolling my eyes, then grabbed Jonathan's and trailed after him with unwillingness.

"He can have a dog in here?" Jonathan whispered to me, warily staring at Buck.

"He's rich - I bet he bribed the manager to let him bring the dog," I mumbled softly back to him as one of the doormen held the door open for us and ushered us into the building. I halted in a sudden stop as I took in the scenery before me.

Holy fuck!

This is definitely nothing like I thought it would be. I don't remember any of this. Immediately at the entrance are small steps that lead down to the main lobby where I could see suave couches in the center of the waiting area furry carpet that contrasted against the rest of the polished floor. On the other end was another staircase that led to a large door. There are two pillars held together by steel but was made out into fish tanks, holding exotic fishes I've never seen before. One the walls nearests them were the elevators. There are two receptionist desks made out of smooth marble, one attended by a man who could be in his late thirties. But what really got to me were the murals in the ceiling and behind the desks.

The chandelier was captivating decor but what has me enchanted was the fascinating piece of artwork I've longed to see in person and not in the art books I've had since middle school. It was the exact replica of the Sistine Chapel ceiling painting by Michelangelo. The perfectly blended colors, the excellent added details - it was breathtaking. And then the walls behind the desks. Two more original pieces of my favorite artists - one is The Last Judgement and the other is The Entombment.

Three gorgeous paintings, all made in the voice of a man who held a unique eyes of the world and wasn't afraid to speak about his mind through a paintbrush. I could feel my heart purr in pleasure.

Jonathan tugged on my hand. "Maya, c'mon!"

I broke away from my trance and allowed Jonathan to drag me down the steps to where Zay was waiting for us with Buck. He looks to be holding back a smile.

"What?" I demanded.

"Lucas told me that you were an art lover," he said casually. "Can't say I'm surprised by your reaction. You look like you were having an orgasm."

I immediately clamped my hands on my little brother's ears despite his protests and glared at him. "Dude!"

Zay grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. I tend to slip my tongue a lot."

"Next time you say some innuendo around him again, I'll rip your tongue out," I warned. I pulled my hands back from Jonathan's ears.

A frightful expression fell on Zay's face. Finally. A normal reaction from him. I was beginning to think he was unbreakable like his cowboy friend.

"Anyway, I have to take Buck back to the room and feed him," he said carefully. "The photoshoot is behind those days over there. There's a man there, Joey, standing guard on the other side. Just tell him you're friends with the photographer or the journalist and I'm sure he'll let you in."

"Okay."

Zay guided Buck towards the elevators after he gave me an apprehensive smile. Jonathan and I went up the second set of stairs to the colossal doors. Now that we're closer to it, I could see flashes of light come off every now and then. When I pushed the door open, I was immediately blinded from the many camera flashes. I could see Riley standing by Jordan, intently analyzing the scene and telling Jordan to try in different angles.

Next to the door was a man dressed in a sharp suit with his arms behind his back. He stood tall, mostly a foot above me. He has jet black hair slicked back, held back together by a gel that is disturbingly glistening. He sports a permanent scowl. I didn't think he saw me because he was busy staring ahead but he surprised me when he spoke.

"You have any business here?" he interrogated.

"I'm gonna take a wild guess and say you're Joey," I said.

"You have an appointment or something?" he asked again.

"The journalist is my best friend and the photographer is my classmate."

"Wait here."

Joey marched forward to where the others were standing, his shoulders squared up and stance intimidating. Still, I find it to be hilarious rather than aggressive.

Yeah, like I'm gonna wait. I was about to step forward, except, I remained stuck on the spot after another light of the camera flashed me sightless and when I blinked my vision back, my eyes settled on the well-structured Greek statue gracing each photo being taken.

Son. Of. A. Bitch!

Lucas Friar was sitting on a brown chantelle chair between two glamorous dogs. One was a siberian husky who sat upright like a guardian meanwhile the fluffy akita laid at Lucas' feet like a luxurious model. My eyes stayed on this rare human being. He was wearing a midnight blue shirt, collar undone, and a pair of dark slacks that matched his shiny shoes. His hair looked furry, tempting me to bury my fingers in his luscious tresses. His only accessory was a square stainless gold ring with a black diamond.

He was staring intensely into the camera lenses, unfazed by the constant flashes. My mouth grew dry in astonishment and I struggled to fight against the tingles that were crawling throughout my body like ants. His gaze never swayed as Jordan continued to snap his camera or as Joey approached Riley to quietly talk to her. Riley glanced over at me with a wide grin, and then she whispered quickly to Jordan before she skipped over to me and Jonathan.

"Maya...I never knew species like him could exist but I'm wrong," she gushed as she placed her hands over her heart. "And he's so polite and funny. He is the most cordial person I've ever met. He's like a prince!"

I looked at her in disbelief. "You're kidding me, right? Please say you joking."

"I'm not!"

Jonathan tugged on my arm and pointed his finger. "That's him?"

"Yeah."

"You know, Maya, I thought this session would have gone by a lot quicker if he was a monster like the way you described him," Riley continued. "But he's really a really nice guy than what the media make him seem like. He was so nice to some of the workers here too - giving them tips and hoping they would have a good day. Paparazzi was even here earlier trying to get a picture of him when we met up with them but he wasn't rude with them like some celebrities usually are - he just smiled and waved at them."

"Honey, you always try to look for the good in people," I said. "You need to understand that he has to keep up an image. It's basic rules of being a celebrity."

"But nobody can be that good of an actor," Riley protested. That was when I noticed the pink patches on her cheeks.

"Please tell me you don't have a crush on him," I groaned. I tried to swallow the bile that was threatening to rise. I did not want to see oatmeal in a different color.

Riley smiled meekly. "Only a little."

"No assholes allowed in our household," I said bluntly. "You dare bring him to our home, I'll take you off the lease."

"Ooh, you said a bad word!" Jonathan held up his free hand with a proud smile. "Five dollars for the swear jar!"

I grumbled under my breath as I reached in the pocket of my leather jacket and slammed a five-dollar bill in his tiny palm. Every time I swear, I have to give him money as if it was a lesson for me to learn how to speak properly. Topanga had convinced him to do that the first time she heard me swear and lately it has been draining my wallet dry.

"You're buying your own ice cream," I said.

"How come you guys are here?" inquired Riley. "Not that I don't mind that you're here - I am so happy that you're here because I feel like I'm about to combust from standing in the same room as him - he's terribly handsome it's scary - but you were dead set on not coming here. You said so yourself."

"This munchkin wanted to meet the spawn of the devil," I explained. "We met up with Zay at the park after his horse of a dog nearly trampled Jon to death. He suggested we come here and I wanted to just hang around with Jon all day but he wanted to come meet the cowboy."

"How come?"

"Ask him."

Except, Riley couldn't ask him because Jonathan was no longer beside me. I was going to freak out for a second but Riley had pointed out that he was walking over to Jordan, watching the photoshoot with impassive interest, and my heart rate immediately calmed down.

"That kid is going to give me a heart attack one day," I sighed.

"You love him," Riley smiled cheekily.

"I'm having second thoughts about that," I said sardonically. "If he keeps on doing this, my love for him with be the death of me. Literally."

We walked over to Jordan, who was to fixated in his work, and we didn't bother to pull him out of his inspiration bubble. Once he was caught in the zone, there is no way of getting him out until he was done. I discreetly locked Jonathan in a headlock and rubbed my knuckles against the top of his head, laughing gladly at his whiny protests and attempts to slip out of my grasp. Riley quickly hushed us.

So we were forced to awkwardly stand there as Jordan snaps away and telling Antoine to arrange the lightening flattering enough for the shot he's visioned, momentarily blinding Lucas. He would tell the cowboy to move in a certain angle, where to put his hand, what kind of face he is looking for, and how to sit on the chair. Jordan would remove the camera from the tripod to take the pictures in certain angles from below or to stand on a box to take hawk-eye shots, while Lucas sat patiently.

"Let's try a couple of standing shots, Mr. Friar," suggested Jordan.

Lucas stands without question, and Antoine was quick to remove the chair from the set without disturbing the glorious dogs. He then rearranged the lightening less bright. Soon the room lit up with the flashes of Jordan's Canon shuttering away.

If it was humanly possible, seeing him upright with his hands stuffed in his pockets and being graced by those two beautiful dogs, made him look more desirable. I felt myself drooling over him.

"Alright," said Jordan. "How about we try a couple with a smile?"

Lucas did not seem up for the task - in fact he didn't look like he has anymore energy to do this photoshoot anymore - but then his gaze flickered beyond Jordan's head and caught sight of me. My cheeks flushed as his eyes met mines. Even from where I stood, I could still see how green his eyes are, the depths of how far his fervor goes, and for a second, I felt I was being undressed by his eyes. Those were not normal eyes he has for me - those were sex eyes. And to make matters worse, he sent a crooked smile my way before he focused on the lenses as Jordan took more pictures of him.

I darted my gaze down to my shoes and blushed a deeper shade of pink, nearly red. My skin felt warm, too hot for me to be wearing my jacket. Something inside me was coiling up, squirming deep in the depths of my belly, and caused of wave of tingles wash over my body. I dared myself to look up at him again.

He was now leaning against the wall, one foot propped on it. The dogs were now standing guard beside him, their eyes smiling at the camera. He was still smiling in Jordan's direction but his eyes were settled on gazing behind him, concentrated directly at me. This time I couldn't look away from him. I was captivated in his striking green eyes and dazzling smile that I wanted nothing more than to push him up against that wall with my own body.

I shook my head. Where the fuck did that come from?"

"I think we have enough," announced Jordan after ten minutes.

"Let me see," said Riley.

Riley walked up to Jordan and the both of them reviewed the thousand photos as I stayed behind with Jonathan. Lucas had crouched down to the dogs, his back turned towards me, and was petting them affectionately as they leaned into his touch or licked his palm. For some unexplainable reason, I couldn't break my gaze away from him; the way the corners of his eyes crinkle with his smile, how his cheeks lift, the fullness of his lips, and the slight stubble along his jawline. Everything about him literally screamed 'Daddy' and I'm sure the girls he brings home probably agree with him too.

I think he knew he was being watched because he peered over his shoulder and smirked at me. This time, I didn't break our stare. I don't want him to think he got me when he clearly hasn't. I think.

"These are perfect!" exclaimed Riley, the sound breaking through our gazes. "Mr. Friar, which do you recommend best?"

"Feel free to use whichever you find best suited for your article, Miss Matthews," said Lucas, his eyes never leaving me. "I am looking forward to ready a copy of your article." He steps closer to me. "Miss Hunter, could I borrow you for a second?" he seems a little hopeful. "I would like to talk to you."

I peered at the two dogs then at my curious younger brother before I looked at him. "As nice as that sounds, Ranger Rick, I have to say no." I wrapped an arm around Jonathan's and held him close. "I have a lot of plans with my little brother for the day. I promised him we'd get ice cream after this."

Lucas turned to Jonathan then crouched down to his height, a crooked smile painted on his face. It held a sense of warmth, a welcoming kind that actually makes him look approachable. I don't know how he does that. One minute he looks like an intimidating riddle that would repel all women from him yet be secretly attracted to and later he would hold a appealing vibe that would drive a woman insane to be next to him. I don't think I was immune to this trait of his.

"Hey there, little guy," he said softly. "What's your name?"

"Jonathan."

"Jonathan - that's a cool name."

"My dad named me after his old teacher. He's a superintendent of the New York Board of Education now. I don't know what that is but it sounds pretty cool."

Lucas chuckled. "I think I know who you're talking about. I've met Superintendent Turner a couple of times in my life - he's a great man. You're lucky to be named after him and your father is lucky to be taught by him."

"Do you know my dad?" asked Jonathan.

"Unfortunately I don't but you never know what time will tell." Lucas briefly glanced up at me. "Would you mind if I talked to your sister for a moment? I promise I won't talk long."

Jonathan was uncertain. I stared at him expectantly, hoping that he would somehow hear my mind that was desperately shouting; Say no! Say no! Say no!

"We were suppose to go get ice cream," Jonathan said shyly.

Yes!

"It would only take a minute or two," said Lucas. He reached inside his pocket, pulled out a wallet, and took out two hundred-dollar bills. "Here - take this. There is a great ice cream shop nearby here called Amorino. Just tell them to give you the Gelato Supreme and that it's all from me. You could even add on any toppings you want."

No!

Jonathan was stunned. "But...but...They won't believe me!"

"Mr. Ricciardella!" Lucas called suddenly while standing up.

Joey, who had returned to his spot by the door after he talked to Riley, strides over our way with his arms behind his back and held a stone expression. I could not tell what he could be thinking.

"He could go with you," continued Lucas. "He's my driver as well as my trusted bodyguard. He holds my information so he could tell them anything if they question you."

"Mr. Friar?" asked Joey when he reached Lucas' side.

"Mr. Ricciardella, could you drive Miss Hunter's brother to Amorino? And make sure they know it's all from me so they could give him the special kind."

"Certainly, sir," replied Joey.

"Then it's settled." Lucas smiled at me like he won the lottery. "Now may I borrow your time, Miss Hunter?"

I frowned. "No, Mr. Friar...Look, I promised Jon I'd spend the weekend with him and that we go get ice cream together. Plus, I don't know anything about your bodyguard no matter how much you trust him. I'm not going to let Jon get in a car with some stranger." I share a brief look at Joey, who remains unaffected by my words. "Maybe next time."

"I see."

Lucas suddenly turned away from me and started to walk to where Riley is having a deep discussion with Jordan and Antoine. I watched in horror as he kindly meddled into their conversation with a polite smile, which I could see made Riley blush deeply and Jordan scowled, displeased. My heart pounded violently as the minutes passed and then it stopped altogether when I saw them nod almost too excitedly with bright eyes.

You gotta be fucking kidding me! I groaned as Lucas started to head back towards me with a proud face. Fuck. My. Life.

"Miss Matthews agreed to go along with your brother," he said. "Even the photographer and his friend agreed to tag along."

I bit back the growl threatening to rumble from the back of my throat. Without a word, I stomped over to Riley, ignoring the incredulous look I saw fall on Lucas' face, and I turned her to me by the shoulder.

"Riles!" I hissed.

"Yes?" She tried to look all innocent.

"Why did you say yes?" I demanded. "He's trying to get me alone and I don't want to talk to him. You know I'm trying to hang out with Jon."

"Maya, he definitely likes you," she said with such confidence. Jordan nodded in agreement. "He's trying really hard to get close to you," she added. I hold up my hand to stop her right there and she quickly shut her mouth.

"I don't want anything to do with that Huckleberry, you know that. I said it so many times that I'm through with him."

"I know you did."

"So why agree with him?"

"Because he likes you! And you like him!"

"He doesn't like me," I said firmly. "You have got to stop making assumptions like that. Not every little thing he does means he's interested in me or the other way around."

"Why can't it be true?" she inquired.

"Because it isn't!"

Riley's lips curl downward in disapproval. Quiet Riley - I savor the little moment I have with her. Swiftly, she grabs me by the arm and drags me out of the huge room into the main lobby, down to the center floor of it all.

"If it isn't true then why don't you tell him you don't want to talk to him anymore?" she asked.

"I did - he won't give up. He's like those stupid moths when they see light."

"Maya, he likes you," she said matter-of-factly. "And you like him."

"No he doesn't," I protested. "And I don't."

"Peaches," she sighed. "You need to stop thinking like this. Why won't you let yourself deserve something?"

"Because -"

"Because nothing," she interrupted. She placed her hands on my shoulders and stared directly into my eyes. "Maya, you can't let your past stop you from growing a future. I don't know if you noticed but you've been going back to the way you were when it comes to Josh."

I heard my own intake of breath. I couldn't believe she actually went there.

"I hate to say it but it's true," she continued. "You've been so scared to get close to another guy ever since you broke things off with Josh. I thought, at first, it was because you didn't want to get hurt again but I'm noticing the way you've been acting - you're using excuses to not get close to him and you're throwing nicknames at him to insult him when he's been nothing but nice to you."

"I never insulted Josh and he was always nice to me," I pointed out.

"You used to call him Boing, Maya," she replied.

"That's not an insult."

"It's the principle of it, Maya!" Riley wears a tired look, rubbing her temples. "Can you at least try?"

"Why are you so adamant about this?" I frowned.

"I just don't want you to miss an opportunity with a great guy," she answered with a sigh. "I want to grow emotionally. I don't want you to stay like this forever."

I stared at her for a minute, taking in the words she just said to me. Perhaps she was right. Maybe I am being ridiculous about this whole thing because of what happened between me and Josh. Maybe I am letting my past get to me. But I'm not getting my hopes up. For all I know, this could end up badly as well and I could be even more emotionally scarred than I am now.

"Fine," I murmured. Her eyes sparkled. "But I'll just do coffee. If I find out he has some funny business going on, I'm cutting it short. Got it?"

"Deal."

We share a hug before we made our way back into the rented room with our arms linked. I instantly spotted Jonathan and my eyes nearly popped out in shock; he was on the ground, rolling around with the model dogs, laughing in enjoyment, as they playfully licked his face and tugged his sleeves. Lucas Friar stood by them, watching, entertained, with a bemused smile, and laughing somewhat.

I instantly noticed the change in him; he had gotten out of his outfit while Riley and I talked outside. Instead of the fancy suit, he was dressed in a red baseball shirt with long black sleeves, a pair of washed out jeans, and red converse. He doesn't look like a millionaire from the newspaper or magazine covers. There were no signs of the flawless model I had witnessed too long ago with the deep eyes and the beautiful smile.

"I thought Jon was scared of dogs?" asked Riley.

"He is," I said in awe. "Or he was."

Riley gave me a knowing smile then kissed my cheek before she skipped over to Jordan and Antoine. I inhale deeply through my teeth as I walked over to him.

"Why are these dogs attacking my brother?"

Lucas snickered. "I promise they won't hurt him. They're my dogs." Go figure a pair of flawless creature would belong to an impeccable man. "Have you made a decision?"

I licked my lips. "Only if I drive us to the nearest coffee shop...And if you promise nothing bad happens to my brother."

"You have my word."

How is he able to speak so easily? Is he always this agreeable?

"Alright."

I reach down to pull Jonathon up from the whimsical dogs and lowered to his height. He was still tittering, his face flush from his endless laughter. I couldn't stop myself from smiling at this sight.

"Hey dork, I'm gonna have to go and talk really quick with Mr. Friar," I said. "Riley and the others are going to get ice cream with you. I'll meet up with you later. Stay close to Riley the entire time until I get there." I whispered the last part quietly for him to see.

Jonathan frowned. "What are you gonna do?" he asked.

"I have to talk something important with Mr. Friar and I'll meet you later at the ice cream shop," I said. "I promise."

Jonathan pouted and held up his pinkie finger. I smiled and raised my hand to wrap my pinkie around his. I kissed my knuckle as well as he did, sealing the deal, then I leaned up to kiss his forehead and brushed back his hair from his eyes.

"Now go over to Riley," I said.

"Okay. See you later, sis."

"See you later, bud."

Jonathan then ran over to Riley and the others. A strange pull in my gut grew stronger the farther he went from me. It was the same one I felt when I dropped him off on his first day of school with mom and Shawn. I straightened up and turned to Lucas, who held an elated gleam in his rich green eyes and a charming smile. I took a lot of willpower from me to not gawk at his glamor. Was this guy fucking sparkling?

"So," I started. "Coffee?"

Lucas nodded and stepped aside, gesturing a hand to the door. I stepped forward without a word, with him following closely beside me. He held the door for me like a gentlemen and I moved forward, trying very hard to not spare a glance at him. As we made our way towards the exit, I could feel my knees shaking, worrying me that I might end up buckling to my face, my stomach was alive with wild butterflies, and my heart was stuck thumping rapidly in my throat in an uneven beat.

I don't know if it was because of the close proximity between us. An electrical current was surging between us, causing a powerful force that makes my skin crawl, and I wonder if he felt it too. I know I did - I thought I was going to faint.

We walked together to the other side of the exit, the fresh air - well, as fresh as it can be in the polluted nature of New York - made it possible for me to breathe better. One of the valet noticed us and he instantly tensed up once he saw me; he quickly went behind the desk to get my keys and raced down the direction where he had once sent my car. The other was going to do the same but Lucas held up his hand, shaking his head.

"No need," he said. "Mr. Ricciardella will come by later to drive other people under my request. I will be going with Miss Hunter."

The valet nodded and stepped back to his usual spot. Lucas turned to me. I stared at him to not seem soft. Secretly, I was fascinated by his unblemished features.

"How long have you known Miss Matthews?" he asked. What a shocker - an easy question for starters.

"Since I was five. She and I have been best friends ever since."

"How did you two meet?"

"It's kind of a funny story."

He didn't have enough time to ask more question; the valet returned with my car and he stopped abruptly in front of us, causing the rubber of the tires to squeal, making me cringe.

"Hey!" I hollered as the young man climbed out of my car and I marched towards him. "Watch the tires!"

"S-sorry, ma'am!"

I rolled my eyes. This kid isn't even worth my time. I promptly slide into my car the same time Lucas sit in the passenger's seat and I started to inspect the inside of my car for any scratches or dents by the dashboard after I closed the door. Lucas looks at me, interested, as I open the glove compartment, my collection of CD's spewing out by my haste, and I cursed under my breath.

"Are you looking for something?" he asked.

"Just checking," I muttered as I collected the cases from the floor and placed them back in the compartment.

"I could call him back if there's something out of place."

"Believe me, if something is out of place, I'll find it."

A couple of more minutes later, I was satisfied. Everything was the same. The dufflebag was still in the backseat, all the sports equipment still inside. The leather of the seat wasn't torn or stretched in any spot. Neither of my albums were missing from the compartment. There were no damages found.

I shift the gear in drive and start to peel out of the valet parking lot.

Since it was Saturday, the traffic wasn't as horrible in the noon like it was in the morning. Most people are either taking advantage of their day off sleeping at home, others are already stuck in office hours, and some are enjoying their plans with their friends or family. Most New Yorkers take the subway - probably too lazy to actually get a license or prefer to walk - unless it is a distance too great for them to travel to.

I like these days - I could be alone in my car and have a smooth drive. I like taking the subway too but my height makes it difficult to enjoy the ride. I would get cramped up if I'm sitting down or I'd get squashed if I'm standing. And then to race against the flow of people to get off or get on the subway cart - those are the worst with the bumping, the pushing, and that one moment when a hidden pervert would 'accidentally' brush his hand against my ass. The main reason why I got a license in the first place.

"Would you mind if I took at look at your collection?" Lucas asked as I slowed into a stop at a red light.

"Why?"

"Just curious." He was sincere.

"Go ahead," I said. "Just don't take them out of their cases."

"I won't."

I watch him as he took out my CD's from the glove compartments and went through my music selections.

"Hmm, funny. I was actually picturing you as a girl who enjoyed classical music like Beethoven or Mozart or Debussy but you're actually what your image says," he mused.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "And what does my image say?"

"That you're a lover of rock and roll."

"Oh." I wasn't expecting that. "Thanks, I guess."

He nodded absently as he looked through the albums, his expression now unknown to me. "Do you organize them?"

"By year and date," I said naturally. "The rest are at my home."

I wondered if he listens to the same type of music as me. He seems to be aware of the bands in his hands. At least I think so because I couldn't really tell what is going through his mind. He is a conundrum.

"The Who - Led Zeppelin - The Rolling Stones - Pink Floyd," he murmured. "U2 - Queen - Sex Pistols - The Beatles - you have quite a collection here, Maya. I don't think I've met anyone love this music as much as you do."

"It's the only good music there is out there," I said. I took out a lone CD case from the compartment and handed it to him. "This one was my mom's."

"The Cranberries," he read.

"My first CD."

"I've heard a couple of their songs. They're decent. May I ask why your mother gave you her CD?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Sentimental value? She tends to have her dramatic moments from time to time. She was in drama until college and she would audition for local plays sometimes."

I don't know why I'm telling him all of this stuff. I never spoke about my mother to anyone besides Riley and her family. She was a topic I like to avoid except with Shawn.

"Any plays I've heard of?" he asked as he flipped through the cases again.

"Probably," I sighed. "In the play reviews section of the newspaper under Worst Play of the Decade. The critics were really brutal on her acting skills and the storylines of the plays she was in. She stopped acting for a while."

"Perhaps she's going for the wrong projects," Lucas said. "If your mother ever wants to talk, I could arrange a private audition for her with some talent scouts. I know a couple of them looking for a new face for some upcoming shows in Times Square."

"That won't be necessary," I answered automatically. A gripping sensation squeezed my heart in. "She's really not looking for anything right now."

She's too busy at being missing, a bitter voice whispered in my head.

The light turned green as a group of pedestrians reached the other side of the street and I stepped on the gas pedal, silently cutting off the conversation. I could feel his eyes settled on me, burning a hole on the side of my head. It was hard to keep my eyes on the road.

"What about you?" I asked in hopes of distracting him away from me. "Do you have a favorite genre?"

"Not really. I don't have much of a preference when it comes to music."

"I don't that hard to believe."

His eyes glowed interest. "May I ask why?"

"You said control is a vital tool to you," I remarked without a thought. "Doesn't having a preference in specific things mean you have control? It's like setting your mind on that one thing. That's like mental control."

The smirk on his face did not betray any signs of annoyance or displeasure; he looked mostly fascinated. "That is true. Preference does require some sorts of control in the matter of the mind. But what if my preference is in more than one way to enjoy it? The rhythm - the sensation - the thrill - it will all be the same in different ways. Some things will catch my eye in more way than one. So yes, Maya, preference is a way of control but it depends on what attracts me towards it."

My God. His voice got lower, more gruff, at the last thing he said. It was like sex was dripping from his tongue. He sounded a bit distant, almost like he was having a faraway thought.

"I'm pleased to see you recall our conversation in my office," he noted, his voice now friendly and light. The dramatic switch leaves me befuddled.

"Interview," I corrected.

How could I forget the most unbelievable experience in my life? The annoyance of this man being unnerved by my constant teases and insults was permanently stitched to my memory and I wish I could erase that blow to my ego. Yet here we are a week later after, with the same man in my car and us going to a coffee shop to talk privately. Clearly, my failed attempts at the interview hadn't scared him off. In fact, it seems to have done the opposite.

A couple of miles later, I parked into an empty space in front of Birch Coffee Shop and killed the engine. Lucas was already climbing out of the car before I pull my keys out of the ignition and he was opening my door with a polite smile while holding his hand out to me. Boy, he moves fast. I ignore his hand as I get out of the car and slammed the door shut behind me. He didn't say anything but followed me to the entrance. I thought I heard a chuckle. Lucas quickly walked ahead of me to hold the door for me so I can step inside. Too much southern hospitality in less than a minute.

Not many people are seen in the shop besides the busboy who is collecting and cleaning used dishes. I would come to this place if I'm too far from my workplace and it isn't usually this slow, but I wish the tables were occupied.

"How about I get us something to drink while you choose a table? What would you like to drink?" he asked cordially.

"Vanilla Chai Latte. Double vanilla."

"Anything to eat?"

"No thanks."

Lucas finally heads to the counter and I go to the table in the farthest corner. As I sit in the chair against the wall, I gaze at him through my lashes as he stands in line waiting to be served and I bit my lip as I pondered. What could this guy possibly want to talk to me about? The way he acts around me is so cryptic, it was like he was a mystery I couldn't solve. I couldn't figure out if he's doing all of this to try to bed me or if he is being serious. Riley's words were fighting against my woman's intuition. Oh, he was so confusing yet so breathtaking and captivating in the most irritable way.

He is surprisingly tall that I would have to look up at him every time. His shoulders were broad and his body looked to be slim under his shirt. There is also the way how his jeans fit him snug - I could see how nice his ass looks. A few times he would run his long fingers through his hair which was now dry but still ruffled in a charming way. Hmm, I want to know how it feels with my fingers.

I shook my head. Where the hell did that come from?

A minute later, Lucas returns with a tray and sets it down on the small, round table next to ours. He sets a cup on a saucer in front of me with the cream filled to the brim and three raspberries on top. He then sets a small basket of baked chocolate cookies before he sits down across from me, holding a coffee that has a pretty leaf milk design., and he crosses his legs. I took a tentative sip of my latte and licked up the cream that fell on my upper lip.

"How's your latte?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Taste like a latte."

"I see. Is he your boyfriend?"

Wow, what? I blinked. "Who?"

"The photographer."

"Jordan?" I laughed incredulously. "Yeah right. If I want to know what incest feels like then yeah but no, he's not my boyfriend. He already has enough on his hands with his on-and-off girlfriend." I looked at him curiously. "What makes you think he was my boyfriend?"

"He spoke highly of you," he answered. "He couldn't stop talking about you and the amazing opportunity you gave him."

"He's more of a classmate."

Lucas nodded, seemingly satisfied with my answer, and glanced down at the basket of cookies. His long fingers held one and placed it on the small plate he brought. He pushed it towards me.

"I don't want any," I said.

"You should eat something."

"No thanks." I frown and sip at my latte again. "Why do you care if I have a boyfriend or not?"

"You seem to catch the attention of men around you."

I huffed out a chuckle. "You should take a closer look to what you refer to as 'attention' then, Huckleberry. I tend to scare men away."

"You sound intimidating."

"I like to think so."

He smiled. "I couldn't help but notice that you've called me in a lot of creative names. I believe you've called me Ranger Rick and now Huckleberry?"

I smirked. "My parents taught me to call another in respect. I figure calling you in names based on your heritage is nice enough. You are from Texas."

Lucas rose a brow. "You are a mystery, Miss Hunter."

Oh, back to formalities, are we? I thought as I ran my finger along the rim of the cup. "Not really."

"I disagree. You're very closed up about yourself," he murmured. "Except when you blush. You look very...flustered when you do." He takes a cookie from the basket and took a bite, slowly chewing, never taking his eyes off me.

"You're creepily observant," I said.

"And you're freely honest."

"I say what I feel."

Lucas cocked his head to the side. "And what do you feel right now?"

"That you're persistent," I said. "You don't seem to take 'no' for an answer."

"I like for things to go my own way," he replied. "Only to an expense."

"You didn't seem to know them with me."

"I really wanted to talk to you."

"About what?"

He forms another dazzling smile. "About you."

Whoa. Call me dazed. This guy reminds of me Riley in some way. He is a control freak, there's no denying it, and it made me wonder what would have happened if Riley was well enough to go to that interview. They would be perfect for each other. Riley would most likely be amazed by his stories and he would probably enjoy the undivided attention - she is a good listener. Plus, she is beautiful so she does live up to the appropriate appearance to his preference in women, maybe even more. They would be the ideal couple of the world. Except I don't like the idea of Riley and Lucas together.

I drink my latte, consuming more than my previous ones, in order to get an unexpected bad taste in my mouth. My chest was constricting in ways I hate. Lucas bites off another piece of his cookie.

"I pictured you as an only child," he said.

"I was."

"Tell me about your family."

Why does he want to know about this stuff? He looks so keen on it. I wasn't.

"What do you want to know?" I asked. I am trying to lure him away from any topics that is too personal for me.

"Your parents."

"My mother is a writer. She on a trip to meet with a publishing company in Tampa." That was the best lie I could make up when it comes to her. "Shawn, my stepdad, is a travel photographer. He's coming back from Minnesota in time for my graduation. Jonathan is their son and my half-brother."

"And your biological father?"

Pain erupted inside me at the mentioning of my father. I tighten my hold a little bit, wishing that the feeling would be numbed out somehow. The topic of my father isn't one that I like to talk about, especially when it's brought up in a conversation, unless it was to help comfort Jonathan. The tragedy had occurred a long time ago and I've long dwelled on it enough afterwards. I've learned to cope with it and it brought me priceless treasures along the way. I keep reminding myself of that.

Putting on a brave face, I took a sip of my latter and said, "He walked out on me and my mom when I was five. Haven't seen him since."

The smile that graced his face faded and sympathy was bare in his eyes. "I'm so sorry. I apologizing for bringing up old wounds, Maya."

"I don't need your pity," I said. "I don't remember him."

That was a lie. I do remember him clear as day. It was hard not to. I just don't like to think about him.

"And your mother remarried? I recall your brother mentioning that Superintendent Turner used to teach your current father."

"Yes, he did."

"You don't seem to like to give too much away," he frowned, rubbing his chin as if in deep thought.

"You're not giving away anything at all."

"I figure it seemed fair to ask you all the questions now since you've interviewed me once," he smirked deviously. "And you have asked some rather interesting questions."

I matched his smirk. I could never be ashamed of my 'gay' question. He is hilarious if he thinks he could make me feel any sorts of embarrassment. It was one of my most golden moments. If I had a book recording all of my unforgettable times, that would have been number three-hundred-and-fifteen.

"I guess it's only fair," I said. "My mother is strong-willed. She would do anything she sets her mind into. But under all of that backbone, she's a hopelessly romantic dork. She finally got married again after nine years."

Lucas raises his brows in surprise.

"She deserves it," I continued. "She's been through a lot of shit, going to hell and back, for the both of us. I miss her." I smiled fondly, almost tearfully. I haven't seen my mother in so long. Lucas watches me intently, taking a couple of sips of his coffee. I tried to not stare at his lips as he wiped the vanilla away with his tongue.

"Do you get along with your stepfather?" he asked.

"We're like twins. He's the only father I know."

"And what's he like?"

"Shawn? You could say he's me or I'm him."

"That's it?" Lucas asked, stunned.

I shrugged. I couldn't find a better explanation as that. He should be able to get a good picture after knowing me.

"Is he as tedious as his step-daughter likes to be?" he responded.

I scowled. "He likes 80's music but he mostly loves the Counting Crows, a 90's band - he is a car enthusiast like me - he likes poetry and is a poet - he speaks five languages - he a baseball fan, mostly to Philadelphia Phillies and Pittsburgh Pirates - he's a photographer - he's best friends with my best friend's father. He comes from the same background as me only worse but he turned out to be a wonderful for me and my mother."

"You live with him?"

"Lived - I moved out of my home at the beginning of my freshmen year of college and moved in with Riley," I said. Where is Lucas going with this conversation? My personal life is none of his business. Well, two can play at that game. "Tell me about your parents."

He shrugged. "My father retired from his position as CEO of Minkus International and my mother is a fashion designer. They both lived in Philadelphia and later moved here in New York."

He doesn't seem so eager to speak about his family life. It makes me wonder what made a successful couple like the Minkus' who already bear two children of their own, want to adopt this gorgeous man who single-handedly took over the world of business and marketing. Could it be that his adoptive parents inspired him to do what he does now? His parents must be proud. Great, I'm starting to sound like Riley.

"And what do your siblings do?" I questioned.

He smiles in delight. "I see you've done a proper research."

"More or less," I snorted. "Riley wouldn't shut up about her article. She mumbles a lot when she writes or plotting something. It doesn't help that we're practically glued to the hip."

"She's very resourceful."

I nodded. I decided to resist temptation and finally take a bite out of the chocolate cookie he offered earlier. I momentarily closed my eyes as I savored the taste of melting cocoa smeared over my tongue and baked dough slipping down my throat. If I didn't love chocolate as much as I do now then I love it more.

"So...your siblings?" I repeated.

"Farkle is in the business like me as you know from the interview, and my sister is in Europe studying marine biology." His tone was irked. His eyes were hardened in irritation and his lips were formed in a thin line. He really doesn't like talking about his family.

"I had a scholarship to Royal College of Art but I turned it down," I murmured. I couldn't stop thinking why he doesn't want to talk about his family. Could it be because he is adopted?

"Why would you do that? You could have gotten so many opportunities in your major," he said. His features were now gentle and friendly, all signs of his irritation gone. All that remains is curiosity. "Europe is the heart of art after all. Did you not want to leave your home?"

"I didn't have a choice," I said. "I didn't have enough money for the flight and the price for the supplies were way above my budget. So I turned it down and opted in studying here. I knew a couple of people who studied in the same major as me so they lend me their books. It was an easier way to kill two birds with one stone."

"Would you have loved to go? Even if it meant leaving behind your friends and family?"

I thought about it for a second. "Mmm, yeah. The school was in London. I always wanted to go there."

"Because? It couldn't have been because of Michelangelo was born in Italy."

"Michelangelo was my inspiration to become an artist but he's not my only favorite one. I wanted to go to London because that's where Anna Airy, John Bratby, Thomas Girtin, William Hogarth, and Joseph Turner were born. I would have loved to see their original pieces in person."

He nodded, running his index finger along his bottom lip. I bit my own. It looks rather luscious.

"Your biological father doesn't know what he had," he remarked, surprising me by his firm tone mixed with sincerity. Then he reached his warm hand out to brush my fingers with the tip of his, lightly running it up to my knuckle then down to my nail in a comforting manner. There is was again - the electricity ignited once more only it seem tenfold upon contact. I had to suppress my gasp.

"It doesn't bother me anymore," I said.

Then a loud vibration was heard from beneath the table. Lucas retracted his hand from mine and reached underneath to pull out his cellphone. He stared at the screen for a minute before he sighed and put his phone away.

"It seems I have to cut our time short," he said. "I have to head back and get ready for my last meeting with the board."

"Oh." My heart sank. I didn't really want to leave just when things were getting interesting. "Don't bore yourself to death."

"I'll try not to," he chuckled. "Besides, I already took up much of your time. You still need to meet up with your little brother at Amorino, don't you?"

"Yeah." I drank the last of my coffee and licked my lips. "I could give you a ride."

"No need. I'll contact Mr. Ricciardella and he'll be here soon. Come - I'll walk you to your car," he insisted, and holds out his hand to me with a kind smile. I took it - I don't know why I did - allow him to pull me up from the chair and then lead me out of the coffee shop. My eyes stayed focused on our linked hands, noticing how his large hands - warm and strong - engulfed mine, clasping onto it like a hostage. He was so tan, so perfectly colored, while my skin looked pale and snowy in contrast.

We strolled back to my car in silence. He is still holding my hand; the electrical current returns in a bigger, forceful surge, that lingered up and down on my arm, making all the hairs on my body stand tall. I don't think he realizes what he's doing. Or maybe he does. He looks like his usual calm, cool, and collected self. His eyes didn't give away any resentment on our little coffee time but he doesn't look like he was thinking about it.

My ears perk when I hear a familiar bell ringing not too far from us and my eyes widen in horror as Lucas continued to make his way towards my car.

"Shit, Lucas!" I cried.

With as much strength I could muster with my petite body, I tighten my grip on his hand and tug him back towards me as roughly as I could that he stumbled against my form. A teen bicyclist raced past us, loudly cursing our ancestors over his shoulder as he continued down the path. I quickly grabbed a medium-sized rock on the cement and threw it towards him with a snap of my wrist; I grin in pride to see it collided with the guy and he ended up tumbling into a mailbox.

"Good arm," Lucas noted.

"Thanks," I said. "You know for someone who lived in New York for a long time, your reflexes are kind of slow. No wonder you don't have a girlfriend," I blurted out - holy shit, did I just say that?

"I just don't do the whole relationship thing," he said softly.

I hadn't realized it until now how we ended up tangled up in each other; his arm was curled around me at the waist, arching me towards him, and my hands were clutching on the front of his shirt, subconsciously clinging him closer to me. I could smell his scent of sandalwood and musk. It isn't anything I smelled before. It is fresh and addictive, almost too intoxicating. He must have noticed our position too; he was now gazing at me with indecipherable eyes while bringing his hand up to my face, lightly tracing his fingers along my jawline and soon my breath hitches as his thumb touches my lower lip.

He held my gaze for a couple of minutes before his eyes slowly drew down on my mouth and became hooded, darkening. He also looks like he's trying to keep his breathing steady.

This is madness. To have a man this close to me, to have such intimacy with someone I barely know. This goes against all of my morals. I've never done with anyone else but Josh. His touch I was familiar with, I memorized it by heart, but Lucas' leaves me tingling in places I forgot I could feel and my heart suffocating from the rapid beats - it scares me. This isn't me. I don't do this in public, not even when I was with Josh.

I closed my eyes and take in a deep breath as I shook my head. I can't do this. I just can't.

"I have to go," I whispered as I detach myself from him. I don't do the whole relationship thing. Riley was wrong - he didn't want me that way. I can't do this. I hug my jacket closer to me, almost to shield myself from him. "Thanks for the coffee and for the photoshoot but I really have to go."

"Maya...I…" He stops himself once he noticed my glare, warning him to remain silent, then he nodded as he ran his hand through his hair. He was torn, anguished, all of his restraints of his control slowly dissipating.

"Goodbye, Mr. Friar."

I turn my heel and quickly trudged over to my car, reaching into my pocket to fish out my keys. I fumbled with them for a second and it slipped from my fingers, falling into a small puddle at my feet. God, am I turning as clumsy as Riley now? I went to pick it up but Lucas had beaten me and he was holding my keys to me, the same look never leaving his face.

I snatch the keys out of his hand and quickly unlocked my car. However, Lucas, being the annoying gentlemen he showed to be, took the liberty to hold the door open to me, and I climbed in without a word as he closed the door behind me. He lightly rapped his knuckles on my window as I shoved my key in the ignition and I glanced up at him to see him staring down at me with pleading eyes. I lowered the window a tiny bit.

"Drive safely," he said solemnly. "Goodbye, Miss Hunter."

Damn it. Stop looking like a victim. I screamed in my thoughts.

I could feel my control slipping now. I turned the engine on and hurriedly slipped out of the parking space, seeing a small smoke trail behind me as I accelerated down the bustling road. I kept my eyes ahead, on signs, on pedestrians, on anything if it meant that I don't glance back at him through my side mirrors and see his broken face again unless I want to fall back to him.


A/N: Just do you know the phone number is completely fake. I made it up.

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