WARNING: PLZ READ!
**this chapter has very heavy themes in them. it's 20 questions so dark questions will be asked and answered. stuff about mayas dad, josh, and lucas's dad and misty will be answered. heavy doses of abuse stories and of rape. this is a hefty chapter**
objective: try something new and do it with someone new
RULES:
1) cannot be someone you know well (you can be acquainted)
2) must be the opposite sex
3) don't get creepy, keep it cool
TIME: do one task each week, you have twelve weeks to knock off everything on the list (you don't have to go in order)
TASK LIST: (italics means need to be done, bold means completed)
1. hike somewhere neither one of you have hiked
2. listen to an entire album by an artist neither one of you have heard of
3. guys choice - it's his night for you to experience one of HIS hobbies
4. girls choice - it's her night for you to experience one of HER hobbies
5. game night - you each choose one game and one movie
6. 20 questions - get opinionated!
7. get creative! paint fight
8. friend swap! hang out with his friends while he hangs out with yours!
9. get out of your comfort zone and do something weird. keep it legal, or don't
10. picture scavenger hunt! have your friends come up with a list of 10 things to do, and take pictures, you don't have to keep it clean. you have 24 hours
11. try doing something neither one of you have ever done! be adventurous
12. BONFIRE! invite both groups of friends! (this one MUST be done last)
good luck. and maybe you'll find something you didn't before.
November 6th - November 12th
November 9th
Maya had found herself counting down the days until Saturday. Perhaps, it was a little more dreadfully than usual due to the fact the next activity was one she was not looking forward to, but she didn't mind much since she tended to enjoy the time spent with Lucas. It didn't matter if they were going to engage in the risky endeavor of talking about super-duper personal stuff. And besides, she thought she could trust him.
It was already bad enough as it was that Luna thought it was a good idea to post a picture of her and Lucas on her Instagram page, which Zay had happened to follow. And everyone knew that Zay was the biggest gossip in the whole school, besides Jessica. And then the picture got to Jessica as if it already hadn't gone through enough people, and when something went through Jessica, it only took about an hour for everyone else to find out. Which is exactly what happened.
It was very evident everyone thought they were sleeping together; which, quite frankly, they were. But not in the way everyone thought they were, more in the why-can't-a-girl-and-a-boy-just-be-friends-and-have-fun-little-sleepovers type of way. But, seriously, the gossip of Lucas and Maya's rendezvous, thanks to Luna, had spread across the school faster than the lice two years prior. Yuck.
Perhaps Maya missed Lucas and that was why she was counting down the days until Saturday. Granted, the fact that she missed him was completely her fault, considering she tended to avoid him in the hallways beside a slight wave in his direction. Clearly, Lucas was bugged with her misty activity. He was led to believe it was because of the prospect of twenty questions, something he knew she'd been dreading since day one. He was a good person, he wouldn't ask her anything that made her uncomfortable.
Jessica suggested to everyone that they were avoiding each other, more so Maya because they were saving up all of their sexual tension for Saturday which is when they "got-it-on" or something along those lines that spilled between her chapped lips. Maya decided to spend her time in the hall with Riley so Riley could scare them off with her angry face, which wasn't all that scary but scary enough on a doe-eyed, derpy teenager.
"So," Riley said, shuffling through her books in her locker. Her voice was slightly muffled, leading the metal doors to reverberate around her slightly as the sound attempted to escape its cage. "Why are you avoiding Lucas like he's got the black plague?"
"Nice try trying to incorporate our History lesson from earlier into asking me a question I don't want to answer. Hitting two stones with one bird."
"That's not how it goes," she muttered, taking out her books from her locker and stuffing them in her backpack. "Ap Calc is literally the worst class ever. Do they intend to kill my brain with useless math facts?"
"Woah there, jitterbug. You're starting to sound like me."
Riley smiled at her and tucked a stray strand of brown hair behind her ear. "Okay, but honestly, stop trying to avoid my question. And Lucas, for that matter. See, I really did hit two birds there with one stone."
"You even stole what I was saying," she muttered, rubbing her backpack strap nervously. She knew she couldn't avoid Riley's question forever, no matter how much she tried. "People think we're... sleeping together."
"Well, that was very obvious in the photo that Jessica sent to everyone's smartphones."
Maya groaned and rubbed the nape of her neck. Jessica was too much of a handful than what she could deal with. "Not that type of sleeping, Riley. God, I thought you and Charlie went further than second base."
"Something like that," she muttered, running her fingers through her hair. "And besides, Charlie and I are not the subject for right now. I know you two aren't sleeping together, especially not after Josh, with you and all," she said. Riley couldn't have phrased it any worse. The girl did not have a way with words. "I did not say that as gracefully as I had hoped. Anyway, Lucas is too much of a gentleman to even ask. He'd probably wait until you two freaks were married or something."
"We're not even dating!" Maya protested, walking next to Riley as they ambled their way to class. "Where in the hell did you get the idea we would get married?"
"I don't know? Instinct, perhaps? Maybe a gut feeling. I don't know, call it what you will. But don't tell me you haven't thought of the idea. I mean, he did kind of, sort of, make you breakfast and you guys have had a total of two completely non-sexual sleepovers that I have been informed about. One was by Jessica Wheeler, and not you, which I still don't forgive you for, but I can see past that flaw for a few moments."
Before Maya could respond, she welcomed a thankful distraction. Only for a moment or two until she recognized who it was, and then a deep pit grew in her stomach. She didn't know if it were the butterflies, which she was getting used to at this point, the dread of seeing him, or the joy of seeing him. She thought it was a combination of all three.
"Well, I'll leave you two to it. Don't bite each other's faces off while I'm gone," Riley said suddenly, rubbing her scalp. She bounded down the hall, her skirt picking up slightly at the end due to the air of her skips. And there she was, all alone with Lucas in the hallway. Thankfully, no one was around because their classes were about to start. Not so thankfully, she'd probably get a tardy slip and end up in detention.
"Hey there, crazy lady," he said, smiling at her. His eyes were green, like seafoam, and they reminded her of the ocean. She could see herself drowning in them.
"Hey there, Lucas," she said back uneasily, trying to ease her way out of their conversation. Lucas's eyebrows knit at her lack of the word Huckleberry.
"Okay, I'm going to just say it. Why have you been avoiding me ever since Saturday?"
"Well, truthfully, it was Monday since I didn't see you on Sunday after you dropped me off at my house, but that's whatever."
They were located near the janitors closet in the corner of the hallway, luckily not close enough to any classrooms so people could hear their conversation. Lucas's eyebrows knit at her with deep concern. She liked the way his eyebrows knit, but she felt as if they were too harsh like he's been through too much. With lack-of-mentioning Misty and his father, she wanted to ease his eyebrows with her thumb and take away all of his pain. She hated it.
"You are not that good at avoiding me as you thought."
"Well, I totally had managed to do it until Wednesday, so I think I won, honestly."
Lucas smiled down at her, even though she was admitting to avoiding him. She found him so completely odd, and she loved it. She wanted to know more about him. Which is why avoiding him made her life a whole lot harder. "Is it because of those rumors that we're sleeping together? I don't know about you, but ever since we've started hanging out, people have assumed we were sleeping together. And—" he stopped for a moment, looking down at her. She was so much shorter than him, it was ridiculous. "We were quite literally sleeping... together. Just not in the context they seem to think."
Lucas was right. She was getting fed up over nothing. Who cared if they assumed they were dating? It wasn't that big of a deal, and eventually, Jessica Wheeler would find something new to sink her fangs in and this whole Lucas-and-Maya dilemma would pass. And she wouldn't let sniveling little journalists ruin her perfectly good and spent time with Lucas. She didn't get enough of it, anyway, so why was she wasting it in the first place? "I suppose you're right."
"See?" Lucas said, a bright smile on his face. He reached for her hand to hold it, to reassure her. She liked holding his hand, she found out. He smelled like cinnamon and his hand was warm. She liked things that were warm. "It's nothing to worry about. It doesn't matter what they think, we can be in our own little bubble."
"A little bubble," Maya breathed, her stomach warming due to the skin contact. "That sounds like a good idea. With a few exceptions. It has to be the Lucas-Maya-Riley bubble because Riley is quite literally attached to my hip, except when she isn't."
"And Zay," Lucas added in mirthfully. "And Farkle, and his super-genius girlfriend Smackle that is also quite literally attached to his hip, because they were trying to rebuild some volcano thing and got super glue and now they're at the hospital. But Farkle says he won't die."
Maya smiled at his goofiness. From another angle, you'd see Lucas tower over her while she was pressed against the corner. It would almost look intimidating if you didn't know Lucas, but if you did, you'd know that Maya was one of the only people that made his knees go weak, but he wouldn't tell you that. They were breathing the same air, it was almost like she hadn't been avoiding him for three days.
Maya could faintly hear a bell in the distance, but she didn't really collect it. It was her and Lucas in their little bubble they had just created. She liked it there. Well, the her-Lucas-Riley-Zay-Farkle-and-his-super-genius-girlfriend-attached-to-his-hip-bubble. "And another thing," she said, ignoring her head that was telling her to get to class. "We're on for Saturday?"
"Always."
"That's good," she nodded her head. "If you couldn't tell, I'm not the most enthusiastic about spilling my guts out."
Lucas looked down at her sadly. He noticed some of the smaller things. Like that scar above her left eyebrow. And that freckle just below her lip and the way her hair was curly and untamed. And he also noticed the slight pink under her eyes, probably due to her excessive lack of sleep during the weekdays and her over excessive of sleep on the weekends. "We can skip it," he suggested.
"Don't be dumb. You aren't worming your way out of this. And Riley would literally spill my guts if she found out."
"What do you suggest then?"
She shrugged, finding a sudden interest in her fingernails. "I don't know what I wanted to say. I just don't want Saturday to be awkward for us. It'll take me some time to open up to you, so just be patient."
Lucas's mind wandered back to a week prior when she had accidentally told him that she loved him. Not quite in the, I'm-in-love-with-you way, but the I-depend-on-you way. He was glad he had made it that far in such a short amount of time. "I'll always be patient with you."
Her cheeks flushed red and she looked up at him with a wide smile. "Alright, alright, you dork," she snorted, pushing his chest away from hers with her palms. She was way too late for class. "I'm late for class. I'll see you after."
/
November 10th
Maya was finally getting her dreaded boot off and then she could finally wiggle her ankle free. Riley was, for a lack of better words, trying to get further than second base (again) with Charlie, this time with no alcohol. And her mom was at some Christ retreat that she had used all of her tips on, so she had no ride other than Lucas. Not that she was complaining, it'd be easier to get under his skin since he was so damn gullible.
"I swear to god," he said, opening her door for her after he had parked, "if you blame me for getting your ankle sprained one more time, I'm ditching this twelve-week thing and I'm going to make out with Zay."
"Truly, I do not know where that came from," she said, hopping out of the car, reaching out for Lucas's hand to steady her. It was always there. "But I sure would like to see pictures. A video would do nicely."
To be completely honest, Maya would miss her extra limb. She had grown accustomed to it, and she remembered Riley and Lucas brainstorming names for it. She wasn't sure, but they had decided on Sunny. She thought Blackjack certainly fit it better since the boot was an ash black and that was some sort of cowboy name she found on an online generator, which fit because Lucas gave her the damned thing.
"Also, this is payback for you not coming to visit me while I was in writhing pain in the hospital."
"It was one day, not even overnight. And you told me not to come visit you or you'd kick my ass."
"If you knew any better, you'd know I was saying I wanted you to come. You're such a Huckleberry."
Lucas smiled down at her, who was walking to his right so her left foot, which had the boot, was next to him. It had taken them a couple of minutes, but Maya and Lucas finally had made their way to their room where their Doctor, Doctor Widbee, was waiting. He had a monocle and no hair, which Maya found herself laughing at, but Lucas had to shove her slightly to shut up. "Right, okay Miss Hart. Did I not see you last week?"
"That's right."
"And you already have a new boy toy?"
Lucas's cheeks flushed with color.
"Alright, to clarify, Riley is a girl, and she is my best friend. And second of all, Lucas is not a boy toy. Although, I'm not against it," she said jokingly. His cheeks were flooded with color. This is what it was like to spend a day with her.
/
Maya had insisted that Lucas gives her a piggyback ride back to his car since she was a recovering patient and all. Lucas saw no point since she had gotten her boot off and was clear to go, but he did so anyway.
/
November 12th
Riley dropped off Maya at Lucas's apartment building. Maya had his address memorized, which made Riley blush, but she had to bite her tongue in an attempt to not say anything. She gave Maya a stern look, told her to use condoms if needed, which Maya slapped her upside the head for.
"Hey there," she said after Lucas opened the door to apartment number 9184. She could hear the soft melody of Christmas music from his kitchen. She could also smell that his mother made chocolate chip cookies. Her hair was tied into a messy ponytail and she was in her sweats and a long T-shirt that was either Josh's or her fathers. But it smelled like Josh, just a bit faded since it had been through the wash. At odd times she missed him, no matter how manipulative he had been. She had spent a good deal of her life pining over him, as well as dating him.
"My mom made chocolate chip cookies before she left. She's out at a movie with her friends."
Maya nodded her head and stepped into his apartment. Just the way it had been a week prior, a bit messy, but entirely more clean than hers had ever been. It looked like home. The blankets they had used while they were watching movies had been stuffed messily back into the closet, with a few pieces of it sticking out. She shook off her shoes and lied down on his couch, her head on the armrest. Lucas went into the kitchen to retrieve the cookies and came back with a plate of steaming ones. Her mouth watered, she normally never got these type of delicacies between her mother's work, school, and her mother's Christ retreats.
Lucas sat them down on the coffee table and joined her on the couch. Maya swiped a cookie from the plate and chomped on it happily, giving Lucas a goofy smile. Maya was lying down while Lucas was sitting upright. Her legs were on his lap and his hand was on her knee.
"Twenty questions," she said, sort of grimacing with the idea. She had too much to share for Lucas. "Let's get this over with. Can we at least try to start off easy?"
"Easy it is," he said, rubbing her knee softly. She liked the sensation of him rubbing her knee. He snatched a cookie from the plate and chomped on it, deep in thought. He finally spoke through a muffle of chocolate. "What's your favorite color?"
"That was weak," she laughed, looking sideways to look at him. He smiled at her, big and bright.
"Hey!" he said defensively. "You said to go easy and I went easy."
Maya shifted her body weight slightly as she thought. "Yellow," she finally said.
"Why?"
"Is that your second question?"
"Is that your first question?"
"Is that your third question?"
"Okay, stop," he said, grabbing her hand that lied on her torso and pulling her up toward him. They were face to face now, even though Maya had tried with all of her willpower not to. She hated looking at his green eyes; they made her tell him too much. "Seriously, why? It's like an add-on question. A two in one deal."
"Hitting two stones with one bird," she confirmed.
Lucas looked at her curiously, his eyebrows in a questioning form. He laughed. "Okay, sure, whatever you say Blondie."
She noticed the way their hands were still connected near her thigh, how he was absentmindedly rubbing his thumb in circles across the area between her index finger and her thumb. "I... don't... know," she said finally, paying close attention to where their bodies connected. "It's like, always been my favorite color. It's, like, the first time we did an activity, how the sky turned red. At 5:30, the sky turns yellow, and when you're with Riley, it makes her turn gold. Not even a picture or a painting could capture it." She breathed through her nose to capture her breath. "It's... it's breathtaking. Yes, that's what it is. Not the gross mustard kind, the kind that shines through your window on a sunny day."
Lucas smiled. "And what about you?" she asked. "What's your favorite color?"
"Is that your first question?"
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, you big Huckleberry."
It was no contest. "Blue," he said, and he understood why, looking deep into her blue eyes. It was hard to describe the color because it wasn't only just blue. Her eyes kind of shined, and had a glitter to it, they had weaves of gold pressed into them, they sparkled if you looked at them for a tad too long. They so radically contrasted her bright, blonde and curly hair that it almost made Lucas surprised at such the stark difference. Her eyes were vibrant with color, deep and entrapping. It was hard to wonder why it hadn't been his favorite color before he met Maya.
"Why?"
"Is that your second question?"
"I am not having this argument with you again."
He had to think about her add-on question for a moment. "I don't... know," which was partly true, and partly not. He hated lying to her, which wasn't what he was directly doing. But if she knew that his favorite color was the color of her eyes, then she wouldn't ever talk to him again. Part of the rules was not to fall in love, which he wasn't doing... by the way. "It's just like, I don't know, one day, a few months ago, it changed." He neglected to mention it started to change when he met her. "It was always green before, I loved green. The smell of the grass, the green stains I got on my baseball jersey from sliding too often. The green of the Texas trees. I loved the color green. And, it just kind of—changed. Like that."
"Which color?"
"Didn't I already say blue?"
"No, not like that, dumbass," she said, "I mean, like," she sat in contemplation for a moment. "Like which shade of blue? There are so many different hues, like pastels, and tones and how dark and light it is. You should pay more attention in Interior Design."
It wasn't that hard to tell her, just harder to put in words. There wasn't a color for the color of her eyes, they were too beautiful to be a color; if that was even a damned thing. So he told her, as best as he could because he could look right in front of him and the vivid blue was right there.
"That was harder to answer than I had expected," Maya whispered, feeling winded from all of the conversation with only one question down and nineteen more to go. But with Lucas's hand still on hers, it gave her a sort of twisted reassurance.
"Favorite book?"
"I don't read."
Lucas gave her a stern look. He saw the stashed collection of Percy Jackson books in her locker. She wasn't as slick as she thought. "Okay, tell that to your Harry Potter books under your bed and your Percy Jackson books in your locker."
"You checked under my bed!?" she yelped, hitting the back of her hand on his chest with her free hand. "You're such a creep."
Lucas laughed and smiled at her. "Come on," he pressed. "I also saw the glasses in your nightstand but I'll ask that question later."
"Do you like to go looting in my room?"
"It's a pastime I do enjoy," he teased. "But seriously, crazy lady, answer my question."
"Easy," she said, kicking her head back on the armrest but neglecting to let go of his hand. "The Maze Runner series, I mean duh. You'd think it would be Percy Jackson or Harry Potter but your most prized possessions must be ones your friends cannot find. Huckleberry Finn was a boring book. I wonder why."
Maya asked Lucas what his favorite pastime was, which was, besides hanging out with her (he didn't say that, though), duh—baseball.
They had filed through a series of meaningless questions. Lucas asked Maya what her favorite food was which, surprisingly, was tomatoes. Maya asked Lucas what was the biggest number he had ever counted to. He said it was something in the millions, but she hardly believed him. Lucas's favorite animal was a dog, easy, while Maya's was fish. That led into a heated discussion because Maya liked cats betters than dogs which led to a more heated discussion. Eventually, they got their way around the argument, albeit, not solved.
"Okay," he said, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. They were seated in front of each other, now. Her legs were crossed on the couch as well as his, and it looked like they were having a heated discussion about politics rather than asking each other trivial, meaningless questions. "What happened to your dad?"
That question threw Maya off guard; she had no idea how to respond to Lucas. She almost wanted to slap him upside the head but she had to stop herself, this was twenty questions and they were supposed to go deep or something. "Hum," she whispered, her body slightly swaying as she thought. "That is certainly a good question."
Lucas wouldn't push her. He knew what it was like to be asked about your father, it was intense and hard to relive. But he wanted Maya to trust him, he wanted her to know that she could tell him anything. "Alright," she finally said after a few minutes of silence. "Alright," she said again, looking down at their interlaced fingers. "I'm just going to go right out and say it and get it over with."
"You—you don't have to if you don't want to."
"No—no," she said, refusing to look in his eyes. His eyes always made her weaker. "You deserve to know. Only my mom and Riley know, and I guess it'd be healthy to tell someone else. And—and Josh knows." She sighed for a while longer, trying to avoid saying anything. At a point, she figured she couldn't be silent much longer and swallowed the ball of spit in her throat. "He—he left when I was young. I was like four, or five, I don't like to remember the dates. I just know I was really young, young enough to get some stuff hazy but old enough to remember the bad stuff."
She stayed silent for a moment longer. She bit her lip as if she were holding back tears. It was hard to tell him personal stuff, she hated looking vulnerable. "He and my mom were in love at one point, I guess. They never even got married. They were just crazy in love or something. She got pregnant and then my dad started to go a little—I don't know—a little rougher. It wasn't the obvious stuff, you know? My mom told me he only held her a little too hard sometimes. He'd yank her hair when she wasn't listening. And this was all when she was pregnant, but it wasn't that bad. Just some pushing around."
Her breath hitched in her throat and Lucas found himself grabbing her other hand with his other hand. He needed her to know that she wasn't alone, and as long as he was in her life, he would always be with her. She seemed to calm down for a moment once she realized that Lucas had grabbed her other hand. "It all got weird after I was born. I don't remember the first few years, but my mom told me he became an alcoholic. He never got any jobs because he was always drunk. My mom worked day and night just to support me and my deadbeat father. I started to get stuff at like three, like, remember it. I don't remember a time when he wasn't drunk. He was always in his room, watching ESPN or some sports shit rather than—rather than take care of his daughter," she choked on her words. "Sorry, I just—" she stopped.
Lucas said nothing. He knew how these things worked because he had been through it so many times telling the authorities about his father. You wanted people to leave you alone until the end, and when you finished, that's when you could hold them. She never looked into his eyes, only at his hands. He understood that too. He hated the pity, he always hated the pity. "When I was old enough to go to the bathroom, I was old enough for him to rough me up too, I guess. He threw me around a little, but I—I never really got hurt. My mom was his punching bag, though. If she forgot his rum at the store, she'd get a punch. God forbid she didn't get enough tips to buy him a lotto ticket. That wasn't a good day.
"It was like watching a horror movie when I was younger. You see all these horrid things on the news, but you never ever think you'll experience them. And then it happens. It just... it comes out of nowhere. Like, one day he was throwing my mom around and roughing me up and yanking me harder than a toddler should be yanked and the next, he's just gone. My mom's car that she paid out of the depths of her pocket for, his wallet, his passport, and half of our money. Just out of there. And you could still smell him, his alcohol-ridden presence. His meanness. He was always there. His gloom. So my Gammy Hart moved in until we had enough money to move out. We didn't want to be there anymore. I was eight when I moved out of there and I moved to Greenwich Village. We moved to this small, beat-up apartment building that smells. We've been there ever since, but it's nice. Not being able to smell him. He always smelled."
Lucas noticed the few streams of tears that trailed down her face. He lifted up one of his hands from hers and wiped them away with the pad of his thumb. He didn't know what to say. He couldn't apologize, it wasn't his fault, and she didn't want his pity. She just needed to tell someone. Instead of saying anything, Lucas found it easier to hold her, for both of them. He reached over and grabbed Maya by the shoulders and embraced her tightly. The worst part was that he knew exactly how she felt. Exactly. He could hear her silent sobs in his shirt, and he held her even tighter. He never wanted to let her go, he never wanted her to get hurt again.
/
"What about you?" she asked him, grabbing the cookie from his hand as he tried to chomp on it. They had decided to take a break before they both had an emotional breakdown from Maya's story about her father.
He knew what she was talking about and grabbed the cookie back before she could take another bite and stuffed it in his mouth. She grunted unhappily. "What are you talking about?" he asked, anyway.
She sat up seriously, her blonde hair falling out of her ponytail. "I'm not going to egg. But you're annoying."
Lucas rolled his eyes and swallowed the last of his cookie. He sat up so he could face her. She finally looked in his eyes and he looked into hers. She was searching for something, but she didn't know what. He was hoping that his father's story would be easier to tell for him than it was for Maya since he had already lived through that, but his expectations were low. He hated his father.
He wasn't sure he would become sad, like Maya, more angry. But with the same type of consistency; he hated his father. It took him awhile to muster up the courage, or the calm, to speak about his father. He never spoke about his father, rarely did he ever speak about it to Zay and Zay knew him pre and post-father; both were the same, but they were also different in radical ways. He wasn't the same, goofy boy he had always been before his father.
"My dad left when I was born," he finally said. "It—it wasn't like yours," he muttered, choosing his words carefully. He understood why Maya didn't look at him in the eyes. It was damn hard, it felt like if he did, he would spill all of his secrets to her. He was seriously biting the urge not to cry. "I didn't experience years of abuse before he left. He had just gone. No trace, we didn't track him down either. My mom told me while he was gone that he had a temperamental streak, and I was glad that he wouldn't be around so I could attain it."
He looked back at the clock. It was starting to get late. He then looked back at Maya, whose face was porcelain and tender. He could never imagine someone hurting her, he could never imagine him hurting her. He would beat himself to a pulp if he did, or at least make Zay do it. He got angry at her father, and then at his, and then at hers again. His anger was starting to become jumbled, messy. "I was a good, happy kid for a few years. It was just me and my mom. We were good alone, we worked well together. And—and then he just kind of—he kind of showed up. I was in fifth grade, I was eleven. He had left for eleven years and decided to—show up. Just out of the blue. I was hoping he was dead."
Maya recognized that look in his eyes. The pure anger that seethed through him; she got that whenever she thought about her father. She was hoping he was dead, and she was hoping that Lucas's father was dead too. She really hoped. "I don't know why he thought it was okay to try to weasel his way back into my family. I didn't know this man, he wasn't my father. I didn't have two parents, I had one. One that stuck by my side, and we didn't need him. I didn't know him and I didn't need him. But he was just there and my mom didn't do anything. She was kind of terrified, she never talked about my father to me. She thought it was for the best because he wasn't the best man and boys shouldn't have fathers like that."
He breathed. Maya's hands were small in his, she was warm and comforting. "I kind of collected some stuff with the way my mom walked around him. She never said anything about him reappearing, she just kind of went with it. Like he didn't leave from her life for eleven years, like that. But I didn't know how to act around him, he was literally a stranger in my home. But I could tell he was my father, he liked cinnamon. And the chin and my lips and we walked the same way. It was scary thinking that at eleven years old I could end up like my father and abandoning my family.
"I mean, I guess my mom and father had never gotten around to the whole 'divorcing' thing. Like they never had the time, I don't know. I started to notice something about my mom, the way she walked. It was sort of limp-like, and she had bruises on her—around her wrists and hip. She may have had a black eye, I don't really remember. My father was kind of a blur. He never touched me, though. I think he kind of ignored that I existed like I was a figment of his imagination. It sucked, not having a father for eleven years. Your mom refusing to tell you a single detail about him other than he got angry—but I understood why. She didn't like to relive the past, he had serious abusive tendencies. He had been abusing her mentally since they started dating and when they got married he sort of tipped into the other direction. You're, like, this eleven-year-old kid imagining his father as a firefighter or maybe he went into the army and was drafted and he's fighting all the bad guys. It kind of sucks getting your reality shifted, your dad isn't fighting the bad guys, your dad is the bad guy.
"I think—" he choked on his words. He didn't know how to say it, to face the reality of what happened. He doesn't talk about it to his mom, he didn't want to. He didn't want to talk about it to Zay. But he had to look up at Maya and he saw her there, her blonde hair shimmering in the dim light and her concerned face and her light cheeks and he had never felt more secure than ever before. "My dad raped my mom. Before I was born. After I was born. He left for eleven years and then raped her again. I don't even know if I was the product of something consensual. That's really gross to think about, I'm sorry. He was disgusting. He was disgusting. I hate him I hate him I hate him I hate him I hate him I hate him I hate him—"
He hadn't even noticed he was crying until the tears splashed his collarbone and Maya had taken upon herself to wipe them away. She held his face in her hands, and he could see the pity and the hurt and the understanding all mixed into one. What was worse than bottling all the pain in by yourself and letting it grow and hurt you for seven years? Knowing that someone you loved was going through the same thing.
His face was in her hands and his lip was quivering. It hurt knowing that his father was still out there. That his mom had never been brought to justice, that they had to quite literally flee his father and run away from him across the country, in a big city where it would take him years to find them. He couldn't go back to that, he just couldn't. Perhaps his father was still looking for him, maybe he moved on. He didn't know which was worse. Maya spoke five words that had brought him over the edge, that had finally let his waterfall run free from his face. Her eyes were intent on his and he could see the tears down her face as well. She understood. That was the worst part. He didn't want anyone to ever go through what he lived through. "I am so—so—sorry," she whispered to him. She released her hands from his face and wrapped him in a hug, a tight hug that he couldn't escape, not that he wanted to. He buried his face in her shoulder and he sobbed, and he sobbed, and he sobbed. Maya was on his lap and his arms were around his waist and he was almost remembering the week prior when she had been in this same position, except drunk and professing her love to him.
He wished he could go back.
But he didn't. He wouldn't have had this, had this moment with Maya where they knew they weren't alone. He knew what it was like, to have no one understand you. Quite frankly, it sucked. Zay tried to understand, but his dad loved him, loved him to the moon and quite possibly further. His mom was always there for him, he had a big family, a grandma that cooked him cookies and one that didn't but loved him nonetheless. And Farkle came from wealth, and his parents loved him beyond what he could comprehend. And Riley had the perfect family, a perfect life. Nothing went wrong, literally nothing. And there was Maya, maybe she was something of a missing piece. She was starting to fill that hole in his heart that his father created, one that was a void. It sucked. And Maya understood. He wasn't pitied by her, but she understood. He thought that in that moment, with her arms wrapped around him and her sitting on his lap that nothing else mattered. The world could collapse and he would be alright because he would have her in his arms.
/
It didn't make anything easier because it was going to get harder. But it was nice to talk to him, because for once in her life, someone could relate. She knew, though, that Josh was the next subject matter. He didn't bring it up; at some point, they kind of stopped asking each other questions. They were both sad, extremely sad. Something opposite of the mirth she had felt when she had seen Lucas on Wednesday. But knowing that he was there with her made it better, even if only by a little bit.
"I loved Josh. I don't know if I was in love with him. It was some sort of infatuation, but it was very real to me. It started when I was in seventh grade. He had told me I had grown, which was kind of creepy for a high school senior to say to not even a freshman—but I didn't care. Because his eyes were this deep brown and they made me melt—I don't know. It was all very—very—" she stopped. She didn't know what to say. They had decided to lie down, next to each other, on the couch. She was squished against the cushion, while he was lying out on the outside of the couch, his right foot hanging off the edge slightly.
She was tucked just under him, his arm secured around her. Her face was buried in his chest, and he smelled like cinnamon. Like sweet cinnamon and summer and she couldn't imagine what his father smelled like. She was thinking more of dark cinnamon, burnt cinnamon, and death. His left hand was in her hair, playing with the soft tendrils since her hair had popped out of its elastic. It was a small, comforting gesture. She appreciated it.
"He was manipulative. He made me think I was worthless. I don't know what attracted me at first. He was a Matthews, and Riley was a Matthews, and Matthews had it perfect. And I just had to be a Matthews. I stayed, even after the abuse started. I don't know why I did, but I stayed. He reminded me of my father at times, which was kind of scary, because my father beat my mother senseless—no, sorry, Kermit beat my mother senseless. He doesn't get to be my father. He stopped being that the moment he touched my mom."
The shirt started to smell like Josh again. It disgusted her. Why did she wear it in the first place? "This—this is Josh's," she said, sitting up from their position on the couch. "I—I don't know why I wore it. It was just—just—j—just sitting there in my—my—in my closet and I—I saw it and I d—d—don't know why I decided to wear it," she stuttered. She hated Josh. He had brought her so much pain. She hated him.
That was okay, Lucas told her. Maya wanted to rip it off her body. It's okay, he had to tell her. It's okay, it's okay, it's okay. Shhh, shhh, shhh. He had to go up to his room and grab a shirt for her. It was big, probably one of his workout shirts and Maya switched it as soon as she gave it to him. She threw Josh's shirt across the room and let it crumple in the corner, cowering. He was a coward. Josh was a coward.
Maya liked Lucas's shirt, she could almost get the smell of Josh out of her nose. He smelled like cinnamon, and cinnamon smelled good. She loved cinnamon. Lucas had to hold her because she was sobbing too much, she didn't really make much sense. It took awhile for him to understand her since she was curled into him like a teddy bear. He hadn't even asked her to share with him about Josh, he would have never asked, anyway. He knew it was a touchy subject, the whole reason she even met him in the first place.
He supposed he should thank him for that, but he wasn't going to.
"This is a lot of grief," she finally said, feeling herself calm down. "I haven't talked about this in forever. Sorry if I look crazy."
He told her not to apologize. She had nothing to apologize for.
"Okay—" she finally muttered, wiping her nose with his shirt. He didn't mind. "Okay—okay—okay. He was, um, Josh... He—" she closed her eyes to think for a moment. "He was really manipulative. He wasn't abusive to me, at first. He—he showered me with love. Presents, things that would make me happy. I guess I never really got around to telling him that materials didn't make me happy, but his love did. He wasn't the affectionate type, I guess not toward me, anyway. It started to kind of veer. It was already weird that he was so old and dating me at so young.
"We started dating when I was sixteen. He must have been twenty-one at the time. Riley—Riley was all for our relationship. She wanted me to be a part of her family as much as I did. After a few months, he became distant. But I loved him. So I didn't care. I guess he was doing his thing with someone else. He started to yell at me when I asked where he was. He said I was too clingy, that I was desperate. God knows why I stayed with him, but I did. I thought I could change him. That's the funny thing; when you think you can change them.
"He was really abusive emotionally. Like—like—" her breath hitched, "like—um—he would tell me I was worthless. He'd grab me by the arm and shake me until he scared me and tell me I was worth nothing." This hurt Lucas's brain. It angered him, too. Here was Maya, curled up into him like a teddy bear, her heart on her sleeve. Her walls down, vulnerable. He couldn't imagine taking advantage of that. She continued. "And then—then he'd kiss me at night. He told me he loved me like he had never loved anyone else before. And then he'd do it again, and then he'd kiss me. It never stopped.
"I guess I finally understood what was happening when he hit me." Lucas clenched his jaw at that and held her tighter. He didn't want to let her go. "He—he—it reminded me of my father. It all kind of flooded over me. Emotionally abusive, emotionally abusive, emotionally abusive. I told Riley about what happened and she believed me despite the fact that Josh was her uncle—is her uncle. Cory didn't believe me, which kind of sucked, I mean. It really sucked. Topanga did, though. She really did. She trusted me. I trust her.
"That was something like four months ago. I still miss him, though. Even after what he did to me. It's hard to shake that away. You miss the thing that anchored you the most, but he didn't only anchor me, he let me drown. And then he saved me. And then he let me drown."
/
Maya was still curled up against him when he decided to speak; she found it distracting to play with the hair on his neck. "Misty—man, I loved her. I did. She was—she was great. She looked kind of like you, she had this long blonde hair that hit her mid-back when it was down, but she mostly kept it up. But, she was tall, a lot taller than you. And she had green eyes, kind of like mine, but they were darker and held a lot more mystery.
"I met her when I was fifteen. It had been post-father, so things were better than before, but after going through what I did, I would have never been the same. But Misty kept me grounded. She made me feel like myself again. I met her at this yoga class my mom had decided to drag me to, which I hated but the yoga teacher had this girl, about my age, sitting next to her. That was Misty. She was the yoga teacher's daughter."
Lucas talked about her with such pride, like he truly loved her. Maya had to wonder what it was like, to be in love. She wondered what happened between them. "We hit it off. She figured out I was from the South since I had a deep southern accent at the time and she kept bugging me and asking me what it was like. She never liked New York, she thought it was too stuffy, too much of a big city. She was wild, she loved running and hiking and mountain biking and surfing, which she had never done since she lived in New York her whole life. But she loved it. She loved three things in her life, the wilderness, her mom, and me.
"And I loved her. I really did. I loved her with all of my heart; when I love someone, I think I love them so deeply that my heart aches. I grow attached, it's dangerous. Because—because—" Maya could feel his lip quiver. She listened to his voice through his chest and his steady breaths that reminded her of the sea. "Because—I—I just break down. I think it's because of my father. I don't really enjoy when people abandon me.
"It sucked. Because she loved the wilderness and although I missed Texas, I didn't want to go back. Not at the time anyway. I didn't want to see my father. That sucked, because she wanted to move there with me, and grow old, or something. But I didn't. She didn't understand. I didn't understand. It was all very stupid, she got this scholarship thing in Australia and she said she'd be there over the summer. Two months was all she told me. But I—I couldn't let her go. It was dangerous, I had built my happiness on her, if she left, so did my happiness. It was wrong, depending on someone like that. I fought with her about it but I should have been happy. I should have let her go, and she would have come back. But I knew that she wouldn't. Australia was something she wanted to go do, she wanted to go see. She had never been outside of New York and Jersey and she wanted to explore and travel and I couldn't keep that away from her. Our last conversation was something I remember vividly. She was telling me how she was going to Australia and I couldn't stop her. And she left. And so did a part of me. She filled the void of my father, and she just... left. It was partly my fault. I—I shouldn't have grown such an attachment.
"What's worse is that I kept counting down the days until she would come back. Two months. And then she didn't come back. Two more. And she didn't. Two more; and then I finally realized that she left me. In New York, sad, broken, alone, an abusive father on the loose. Just my mom and I. It sucked."
He breathed to catch his breath. He wasn't quite done. "I sometimes miss her. It was hard, it was really hard trying to—trying to get over her. You don't just get over someone like that," he snapped his fingers for indication. "I had to build my happiness on my own. I did things that reminded me of her. I played baseball, and I loved it. I had played baseball before but not as intensely and it came naturally to me. Zay and his family moved up to New York to help me. It was nice knowing I had somebody. I had Farkle, and he had Smackle, but I also had her as well. It took a long ass time," he finally said, concluding. "But I was starting to become happy again. I—I'm not there quite yet," he stuttered. He took note in her hand and started tracing random patterns in her palm. "I'm still working toward it. I don't think I can ever be as happy as I was before my father, but I'm hoping I can get close to that."
"We'll get there," she finally said, breaking her silence. "We'll have a name," she decided. "Project: Get Lucas Happy. And we'll do whatever it takes. I don't care. We could get you on meds, or something. You love baseball. We could go to baseball games. I'm fully part of the team Get Lucas Happy."
His heart overflowed with love. He had no idea how he was so lucky to call Maya his friend, how she was curled up to him, intent on making him happy and successful. Even after everything she had told him, she was still dead-set on other people's happiness. At some point, it wasn't fair; for her.
They had made their way through 20 questions; well, 20 questions for Maya and 19 questions for Lucas. Lucas's last question toward Maya was whether or not she was ticklish in which she threatened to punch him. "What's it like," she muttered, finding her spot comfortably in his arms on the couch, "what's it like to be in love?"
Lucas's heart stopped. She had never been in love. She was infatuated with Josh, sure, and manipulated, but she hadn't known what it was like to be in love. Misty had screwed Lucas over royally, but nothing compared to what Josh did to Maya—and Misty gave Lucas the best thing she could. Love. Which sounded cliché, sure, but experiencing love was truly the best thing to ever happen to him. And the worst.
"It's—" he stopped for a moment. He couldn't think. What was it like? Misty seemed like a memory. "It's different for every person, I guess," he started, tracing random patterns on her arm. "You—you get this feeling, around this person, and it's hard to comprehend. You think that they're the best thing to ever happen to you. They make you a better person, they build you up and tear you down; but all for the better. Your heart aches and tugs and you—you want to be near them. It's like they're magnetic. You want to touch their skin, you want to share their grief, you would sacrifice yourself for them. It sucks because you know you'd quite literally go insane if anything happened to them. It's all—" he stopped.
Maya was asleep in his arms, her breaths slow and steady. Her eyes were slightly puffed due crying numerous times; dry tear stains were located down her cheeks. But he had never seen her so tranquil, so at peace. A stray strand of hair poked out of her hair and he pulled it back and tucked it behind her ear, looking at her.
She, quite honestly, was the best thing to ever happen to him. She challenged him, understood him, built him up. This was crazy, he was crazy. "It's all—you would—you would do anything for them," he whispered.
Why the hell did Maya say no falling in love? And he thought he was good at following rules.
i dont know how to feel about this chapter lol. the next chapter will be next week and then ill be slowing down my updates slightly because i need to write the chapters lol
review and fave