chapter rating: teen/pg-13
word count: 717
summary: "Shoud'a picked you."

[inevitables]

Maya is suddenly regretting her choice to drag a drunk cowboy home. He's entirely too tall, making any attempt to hold up half his weight more than a little difficult. But Lucas was three sheets to the wind and, regardless of their romantic history (or lackthereof), she's still his friend, so leaving him to pass out in a pool of his own vomit in some stranger's house was not an option.

"C'mon, Huckleberry, I need a little help here. We've got two floors to climb… My building doesn't have a fancy elevator, all right?"

He mumbles something and buries his face against her hair, breathing in deep. "Smell good."

Maya rolls her eyes. "Yeah, showering does that for you. Pipes might leak, but they do their job when I need it."

He hums, long and deep. While he's wobbly, he manages to climb the next few stairs without falling flat on his face. She can feel his mouth moving again and she's really hoping he's talking and not trying to eat her hair.

"What?" she asks, drawing her head back. "You say something, Sundance?"

There's some mumbling, but she definitely makes out the words, "Shoud'a picked you."

Maya stills, looking up at him, and then frowns. He and Riley aren't a thing, haven't been for a while. They tried it and it didn't work out. But there's history, and still some uncertainty on Riley's part. That maybe it wasn't the right time, but they would get together eventually, because she and Lucas were just inevitable. Maya's done her best to separate herself from any and all romantic feelings she had for him. It wasn't going anywhere good, just leading to a whole lot of heartbreak on her part. Better to walk away before it hurts too much.

"If I remember right, you didn't pick anyone. I did." She pats his chest reassuringly. "It's old news. No hard feelings."

"I wanted to…wanted you… I just… You don't know what it's like. You and Riley… Couldn't screw that up…"

"You didn't. Me and Riles will always be friends. Nothing and no one is ever gonna get between that. No matter how cute he is."

He grins at her then, goofy and drunk. "Think I'm cute?"

She snorts. "Your face isn't the worst."

He nods. "You think I'm cute."

Rolling her eyes, she leads him to the next flight of stairs. "Yeah, yeah, stroke your ego later. My mom gets home in a half hour, so you need to pick it up so we can hide you in my room before she sees you. Last thing I need is a lecture about safe sex."

He trips over a step. "Sex? What?"

She laughs. "Relax. I'm not going to take your purity ring off with my teeth."

Getting his feet under him, he tells her, "I don't have a purity ring."

"Heathen," she jokes.

He laughs, his head falling back, and she has to tighten her arm around his waist so he doesn't topple them down the stairs.

Amused, she shakes her head. "Okay, get it together, no more distractions."

He nods a little sloppily, but the message gets through.

Fifteen minutes later, Maya throws a blanket over Lucas, curled up on her floor, hugging an oversized stuffie under his head for a pillow. She snaps a picture with her phone, hits the light, and climbs into her own bed.

It's a few minutes in the dark before he says, "Hey, Maya?" His voice is muffled a little by the stuffie.

"Yeah," she whispers.

"I meant it."

"Meant what?"

"Should've picked you when I had the chance."

Maya doesn't know what to say. So, instead, she stares up at her ceiling, her brow furrowed. Eventually, she hears him snoring, and turns onto her side, staring at his sleeping face, lit faintly by the street lamp coming through her curtain.

"I wish you had," she murmurs.

He doesn't answer, and when she wakes up the next day, she doesn't mention it, just shows him the picture of him cuddling her stuffie and tells him it was hell to drag him up the stairs. When he doesn't bring it up either, she figures it was just one of those things. Maybe the only inevitability for them is to always miss their chance.