_a/n:thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews, you guys motivate me so much wow cries

iii. as if we're bound to
Flirt? With Lucas Texan Horse Riding Prettyboy Friar? As if.

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You know those times where you're so goddamn flustered and out of breath and your cheeks are burning and your chest is pounding and you just want to kill that person with that smug smile who is purposefully making you feel this way for their own entertainment?

Yeah.

They dealt with a lot of that.

But at least they had always taken turns with whoever had the upperhand, since they had both come to learn how to get under each other's skin. It was only for the sake of entertainment, though. Nothing more, nothing less—'cause it's not like they liked each other or anything.

Of course not.

/

"Maya Hart," the brunette nineteen year old begins, pushing long locks behind her shoulder before resting her chin onto clutched hands, all serious tone and incredulous eyes. "So you're telling me you've been living with this supposedly cute boy for a month and you guys haven't done the deed yet? Let alone, kiss?"

The blonde teen nods her head while flipping through her sketchbook with one hand and taking a sip of her mocha with the other. She doesn't give her best friend her full attention until her tone seems like she's about ready to flip the table and nope—Maya was not ready to stain her pleated pearl white skirt.

"What?"

"What?"

"I don't know if I should be proud or if I should be disappointed," Riley states, her green straw held between the teeth on the side of her mouth. She sips at her caramel frappe, all sugary and sweet, just like her.

Maya eyes the girl seated in front of her and rolls her eyes. Of all people to hear this kind of bullshit from, it had to be (used-to-be-prude) Riley Matthews. Maya expects to hear these kinds of things from her mom—if she still spoke to her mom that is. She could already imagine the what does he look like shifting into he looks like thatmorphing into honey, what have you been doing with your time if you haven't been doing him? and the thoughts are enough to begin the first signal of a migraine.

"Really, Riley?" Maya asks, brow arched as she looks at her leather watch. They had barely spent an hour and a half together (after having been months since they'd last seen each other. They blame college and distance and life.) and Riley had already managed to annoy her. Just in the slightest. It's nothing she can't manage, though, since she's known and loved this girl all her life. But god, when Riley has ideas implanted in her head, they stay encaged in there, too and letting go had never been her forte. Never.

"Whaaat?" Riley whines, victim-like and laced with pretend oblivion. "I'm only curious and I'm worried about the well-being of my best friend."

Maya groans, but she brushes it off.

"Please tell me you guys are, at least, friends?"

Friends.

It's a trigger word.

Maya hadn't really had the time to give out labels here and there or even think about where she stood with others around her, that including her roommate.

Roommate.

Another label. That's what she'd been used to, with labels and all. That's as far as it went. She barely even calls him by his first name. (which happens to be his official label of a human being, marked and written and assigned to his figure and proven by a birth certificate—she needs it written on his forehead in order for her to remember sometimes) She usually just refers to him as "Roomie" or "Cowboy" and it isn't as if he minds, so she doesn't care.

But there are times when she isn't ignorant to the fact that he's still a human being under her roof. These are rare times, when they aren't playing that stupid, condescending chess match of a game. These are times she calls him Lucas and he calls her Maya and they're usually sitting together, whether they be on the couch or at the dining table or on the kitchen counter or when he's holding her hair back in the bathroom. These are times they open up about their lives, little by little, at the brim of dawn or at the stroke of midnight. They are times that (when she has the time to reflect upon) she likes to deem him as more than a roommate or a classmate or an acquaintance. He is a friend.

"Yeah," Maya nods after small reflection. "I guess we are."

And Riley's smiling like there's no tomorrow and of course she pushes further on. "And you guys flirt?"

Flirt? With Lucas Texan Horse riding Prettyboy Friar?

As if.

She wonders when the brunette had started hard drugs. Totally didn't suit her—not one bit, with all these delirious accusations and assumptions and her ridiculous desire to—

"I just asked a question…" she laughs, licking whipped cream off the end of her straw. "No need for such a harsh look. But by the skills I inherited from a lawyer, I can tell by this hesitation that something's up. Are you not telling me something, Maya?"

—bug the hell out of her.

She manages to, at least, shut her up by offering to treat her to a chocolate chip muffin and a movie date. Riley had been completely reluctant for the offer. She missed her city, her family, her home, and most importantly, her best friend.

She doesn't tell Riley about those drunk nights and adventures at four A.M. and that stupid, humorous confrontation involving sexual orientation, and that one time she and Lucas argued whether or not oral even counted—she knows better. It will only lead to trouble.

(aka Riley's rambling, lecturing, and fortune-telling)

And even when the subject seems to have been dropped hours later when they're seated in the cinema waiting for Breakfast at Tiffany's to start, Riley doesn't fail to humor her.

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"It's bound to happen, you know."

"Shut up already."

tbc.

_a/n: keep in mind all the memories maya lowkey reflects on in this, because they'll all be made into one shots in upcoming chapters ;)
also, irrelevant fun fact: i was listening to bound 2 by kanye when i wrote this hence the title haha