A/N: IT'S WINTER BREAK, GUYS. I CAN SLEEP. I'M SO HAPPY. I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS CHAPTER, LOVELIES~

Chapter Eight

I work at the student store on the NYU campus. There are actually more customers than you would think, so I don't get bored too often, but when I do have time to myself, I daydream. I create a new image of myself that the people I care about would love, a person worth giving attention to. I imagine someone kind, beautiful, and happy. If I were those things, I'm positive my dad, my mom, and Riley would have stayed. I'm stuck in this world, so I don't process the tall, tan guy with an adorable smirk approaching me.

"Hey, Shortstack," Lucas says, drawing me out of my thoughts.

"Hm?" I say. "Oh, hey, Hopalong." I get ready to ring him up, but then I notice he has nothing in his hands. "Um, you do realize this is a store, Ranger Rick."

He just grins at me, and I grip the counter to steady myself. "I know. I was just wondering if you have time to go out on an adventure with me."

I raise an eyebrow. "And skip work? I may be a rebel, but I'm more responsible than that."

He laughs. "I mean after work, Maya."

"Oh," I say, feeling slightly stupid. "Um, sure."

"Cool. What time do you get off of work?"

I turn around to look at the clock behind me. It's 4:57. "In about an hour."

"Then I'll pick you up at six," he says with a wink. "See you later, Maya."

"Bye," I say, though he's already gone, and I know he can't hear me.

A short girl (but still taller than me) comes up to the register and sets her sweater and pens down. As I scan her items, she asks me, "Is Lucas Friar your boyfriend?"

I know where this is heading. The way she says his full name lets me know that she likes Lucas and hopes I'm not dating him, which makes me want to tell her I am, but I have no right, so I reply, "No, he's not."

"This is going to be awkward," she says, kicking her feet. "But can you put in a good word for me?"

"I don't even know you," I answer flatly but with a smile because I'd get fired otherwise.

"My name is Stephanie Lobban, and I love baseball," she says with a grin, obviously taking my statement as an agreement to pass the information on. And I will, but only to tease Lucas.

"I'll remember that," I say.

"Thank you," she says, then takes out a notepad out of her bag and writes down what even an idiot could guess is her number. She rips the paper out and slides it over to me, and I notice a heart in front of her name. I smile at her, then hand her the bag with the pens and sweater she bought to give her a signal to leave. When she does, I let out a sigh.

A guy with nerdy but cute glasses approaches the counter and says, "Did you really have to lie to spare her feelings?"

"What?" I ask, too confused to be offended. "I didn't lie."

He rolls his eyes and pushes his glasses up. "Come on, you are totally dating Lucas Friar."

I scrunch my face up. "Ew, no. How could you think that?"

"You guys hang out a lot, and I saw you guys at the party. You were awfully chummy."

"Because we're friends," I say bluntly. Who does this guy think he is, calling me a liar without even knowing me?

"Then you must have what people call a 'thing' for each other," he concludes, making me want to sock him in the stomach.

"No, we don't," I say with a sigh. "Now, are you going to buy anything or not, sir?"

"Oh yeah," he says as if he doesn't remember he's in a freaking store. He slides over a book on the mindset of females (what a shocker), and I scan it for him. I ask, "Would you like it wrapped?"

"No, thank you," he replies. "I plan on reading it right away."

"You go do that."

He starts leaving, but right when he turns around, he turns back. He says, "Are you sure you're not dating Lucas Friar?"

I roll my eyes. "Yes, sir."

"Then would you care to go out with me?"

"Please leave before I call security, sir."

He runs out of the door.

You know how people are always asking about what super power you would choose? Everyone says the ability to fly or to teleport or to stop time, but I say I want the ability to shut people up. People gossip and lie and make assumptions without considering those involved. When they're on the outside, nothing is real but their imagination.

And why do people flirt with people they don't know? Is it because Hollywood romanticizes love at first sight or some sort of that shit? Because I prefer a slow development of feelings over passionate but fast.

A few more customers come during the hour until I get off, and right when the clock strikes six, Lucas walks up to me. He leans over the counter and says, "You ready to go?"

"Always," I answer, then tease, "Were you waiting for me, Hopalong?"

He smirks. "Maybe I was, maybe I wasn't."

"Where were you?"

"In the library a few blocks away."

I slap his arm playfully. "You were waiting for me."

He shrugs nonchalantly, not the least bit embarrassed. "Well, I have big plans for us."

"What are they?" I'm quite curious-and a bit desperate if I'm to be honest. He's making me feel hope, which is both amazing and awful at the same time. I want to nurture it and murder it, so I end up appearing neutral about his proposal.

"A picnic. We're going to watch the sun set. It's the most beautiful sight in the world. It looks better in Texas, but we take what we can get." He looks off into the distance, no doubt nostalgic over his home state. I let him stay in his reverie because I know the strange feeling you get when you are awakened from being stuck in the past. It's like you're in two worlds at once. He finally shakes his head after a minute and asks again, "Are you ready to go?"

I respond, "I can't wait for us to get there."

. . .

I hold the basket as Lucas sets the plaid blanket down. He gestures for me to sit, and I do, handing him the basket. He takes out a couple of sandwiches and bags of cut apples, and I chuckle to myself at the scene. It's all so oddly quaint that it's kind of comforting in a way.

"What is it?" Lucas asks nervously. "Is something missing?" He looks around frantically as if he's a boy on a first date with his huge crush, and that only makes me laugh more because that's far from the truth. I'm pretty sure he's still dating Riley. He seems to like her enough now despite claiming to have liked me back in middle school, though I haven't seen him around her lately... Then again, I haven't seen Riley in a long time.

"No, it's fine," I reassure him. "I was just thinking that this is really sweet of you to do, Huckleberry."

"You're worth it," he says quietly, so I'm not sure if I heard him right. I almost ask, but I'm afraid of his response and even more frightened of how I will react. Instead I grab a sandwich and unwrap it. I take a bite and suddenly, I love food because I DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW SOMETHING CAN TASTE SO GOOD, especially something as generic as a sandwich. Or maybe it's because I'm starving. I stuff my face, not mortified at all, even if I look like a five-year-old in front of the hottest guy in school (not even I can deny that).

"Whoa there, Shortstack," Lucas says. "Slow down, or else you might choke."

"Sorry," I say in a very unladylike fashion. "It's just so good, Hee Haw."

"I'm glad you like my preparation skills," he says with a laugh.

We sit in silence as we look out over the hill as the gray sky becomes grayer. I glance at Lucas and see him clench his fist then release his grip and then repeat, and I remember how much he misses Texas. I scoot closer to him and nudge him with my elbow. "Huckleberry?"

"Yeah?" he says, turning his body but not his head toward me.

"Can you describe Texas for me?"

He finally looks at me, and it's done with an astonished expression. "You actually want to know?" he asks.

"Yeah," I reply with a shrug. "Why not?"

"Well, it's just that you always make fun of where I come from..."

"Your accent begs for my attention."

He frowns. "I don't have that much of a southern drawl."

"But it's enough for me to hear, and that's all that matters to me," I say with a playful smile.

"Whatever, Shortstack," he says, then leans back on his hands. "Well, in the morning, I would wake up to a rooster, and to be honest, it's a much better way to wake up than by a radio alarm. I would go out on the farm and lie on the grass by the smaller animals-ducks, chickens, dogs-and let them crawl over me to make it back to the barn and think about life because what isn't there to think about? When I came home from school, I sat in front of my home and watched as the evening turned into a sea of orange, pink, and yellow, and when the sun set, I traced every constellation in the sky: Little Dipper, Orion, Ursa Major, and on."

I'm left speechless. I just look at him in awe until I decide he's messing with me. I say, "You're lying. Life isn't that perfect, and it sounds stereotypical of a southern lifestyle."

"I'm not lying," Lucas says seriously. "I know it sounds fake because I describe it like it comes from a movie, but it's true, and it's a great way to live, to tell you the truth."

I sigh. "But now I just want to go there."

"Then go someday," he says as if I am solvent, much less financially capable.

"I have no money," I say.

"Then I can take you," he counters easily, not like he would be doing me a huge favor if he did.

"What?" I say because I don't know how to react to his proposition. "No, I couldn't ask that of you."

"You didn't ask; I offered. There's a difference, you know."

"Yes, I do, and I also know there's a difference between friendship and charity case."

"Indeed there is, and whether you like it or not, believe it or not, you're my friend."

"I believe it, and I do like it."

His eyebrows raise at my admittance. We stare into each other's eyes, green shining bright as I hold his gaze, and I don't look away even when my heart starts racing. I'm not afraid of anything at this moment.

Well, that's what I think until he begins to lean in.

I turn my head away abruptly, trying to think of something to say when I recall that girl from earlier today. I say while pretending that I happened to want an apple slice when he wanted to kiss me, "Hey, Sundance. Have yu heard of a girl named Stephanie Lobban? Loves baseball and a bit taller than me?"

He furrows his eyebrows, but I know it's not because I rejected him. This expression isn't hurt, just confused, the kind of confused you get when trying to remember something you don't actually have a memory of. He replies, "No. Why?"

I look through my purse for her number and give him the note. "Apparently, she knows you," I say sarcastically.

"What does she look like?" he asks, obviously not catching on to the fact that I'm teasing him for his attractive features and personality and everything.

I raise my eyebrow. "You really think I can describe how she looks?"

His eyes widen with realization and apprehension. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry, Maya. I didn't mean-"

I put my hand up to stop him from continuing and laugh. "It's fine, Huckleberry. I'm joking."

"Then this isn't real?" he asks, holding up the ripped paper.

"No, that's real."

He examines the number as if somehow the penmanship will help him remember. It takes him two minutes before he figures something out. He gets this delighted expression and says, "Is this your number?"

"No, you idiot. I said it's Stephanie's, and I don't even have a phone."

"But I don't even know a Stephanie," he whines.

I squint my eyes at him. "Has that ever stopped any other girl from hitting on you before?"

"Fair enough..."

"Does it ever annoy you?"

"Kind of. You?"

"What about me?"

"Does it bother you?"

"Oh, Hell yes."

He laughs loudly at that. "Just checking."

But I don't mind flirting with Lucas. I can admit that in my head, and I won't deny it because it takes too much of my scarce energy to do that twenty-four seven. I'll just keep it a secret. Like every other feeling I hold, I'll keep this a secret.

"It's starting," he says, and I look out at the sky with him. At first, I only see gray and white mixed together, and I lose hope. I should have known it wasn't going to work. That's what I think for just a second before something changes. I see a soft color. Then another. And another. All blended together to make a beautiful sight that I wished I noticed many years ago. I must have some memory of what each hue looks like though, because how else would I be able to name them? The passion pink, magenta, pastel yellow, red orange, and simply orange. And my lip quivers from sheer joy.

"Maya?"

"Yes?"

"Are you okay?"

I turn to look at him with a grateful smile. "More than I have ever been."

We turn back to the sky as it welcomes us to a place of contentment and promises. And that's when a great idea hits me. I say, "Hey, Hopalong?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we paint this for our project?"

He looks at me with a huge grin and takes my hand, but I don't move away. I embrace this moment as he says, "I thought you'd never ask."

. . .

We spend the entire night painting. He creates the colors for me while I put them together. I tell him he can paint with me, but he insists that I am better than him and that he likes watching me paint. I ask him when he sees me, and all he says is, "When else do you think?" I don't respond, but I do smile, and by the time we finish, it is six in the morning, so he just sleeps over. I wake up before him and find myself wrapped in his arms. He feels so warm and strong that I lean into him more. I look up at his face, so serene and content, and I allow myself to let myself feel for a moment. I tilt my head up and kiss his cheek. He stirs but doesn't wake up, and I smile.

"Thank you, Lucas. For everything you are and do."