The senior class’ excursion to the history museum starts with three missing students and a flat tire.
Maya, who’s never really cared for History in the first place, is fine to sit on the curb and watch as their teacher argues with the bus driver while the admin assistant tries to track down the missing kids.
Surrounding her is what’s left of the class, scattered in their little groups. She’s just taking her phone out of her pocket to text her mother about the current situation when someone sinks down next to her on the curb.
She turns, ready to politely ask them to sit elsewhere because she wants to be left alone, but a blinding smile has the words dying in her throat.
Riley Matthews, cheerleader, model student, daughter of their history teacher and general all-around goody two shoes, definitely the last person Maya expects to approach her, especially in school where her reputation could be tarnished.
“Uh, can I help you?”
“Well, yes, but probably not in the way you think. I just wanted to come sit with you!”
Maya hesitates, not wanting to offend, but curiosity winning over in the end. “Why?”
Riley shrugs. “You were the only one here,” she says, before sticking her hand out. “I’m Riley.”
“I know.”
The other girl blinks in surprise, as if she isn’t practically a household name within the school, but recovers quickly enough. “And you’re Maya Hart.”
“In the flesh.” Maya allows herself a semi-grin, before settling back more comfortable against the curb. “I should warn you,” she says, “I’m not very good company.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’re wrong about that.”
Riley proceeds to ask her a variety of questions, each more obscure than the last. Maya finds herself continuing to answer only because they’re all so weird.
By the time the tire is replaced and the missing children have been found, they’re deep into a full-blown conversation, and Maya gets shaken out of it by someone hollering her name.
She looks up to find they’re the only two people outside, and shoots to her feet. Riley reaches out to grab her hand before she can jog to the bus, and she turns, impatient. “What?”
“Sit next to me?” She asks, voice quiet and tentative, brown eyes darting back and forth between the bus and her own feet.
Maya finds herself softening, simply tugging Riley along with the wrist she’s still holding. “Sure, whatever. Come on, I don’t want to get yelled at again.”
The smile Riley shoots her is enough to fill her with warmth for the entirety of the excursion.
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“Hold on.”
Maya pauses, pencil between her teeth as she leans over. “What?”
“Let me see what you’ve got.” Riley’s got her brows furrowed, paint streaking across her fingers as she reaches out.
On instinct, Maya leans back. “Why? I’m not done yet.”
“Just let me see!”
Ordinarily, Maya would just give in and spin her easel around, but there’s something about Riley’s insistence that makes her want to resist. “No! I’m not done, you can see when I’m done. Look at your own painting.”
“It’s not good!”
“As long as it isn’t another purple cat, it’s good.”
Riley has the gall to look sheepish as she tries to surreptitiously push the jar of purple paint away from her, as if the stains on her apron aren’t enough to give her away.
Maya laughs, dancing out of reach. “Not until it’s done!” She says, pulling her easel away from Riley.
Her girlfriend pauses for a moment, and then stands up.
“No-!” Maya is on her feet immediately, dragging her easel with her as she darts across the room.
Riley chases her across the studio, finally cornering her next to the door and gently tugging her out of the way. “Let me see!”
“It’s not done!”
“I don’t care!”
Maya relents, allowing herself to be pushed aside so Riley can take her place behind the easel. “It’s not done,” she grumbles again, arms crossed as she hooks her chin over Riley’s shoulder and wrinkles her nose at the canvas.
Riley spins suddenly, catching Maya as she stumbles. “I can’t wait ‘til it’s finished,” she breathes, leaning in to kiss her quickly on the nose before spinning away again.
“It would be finished faster if you stood still for a minute!”
“Not a chance, peaches!”
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things you said when we were the happiest we ever were
Riley looks to her left and pauses, because the sun is setting and golden-red rays are bleeding into the ocean, blurring the horizon line. In front of her is a roaring bonfire, embers escaping into the slowly darkening night sky, and all around her are the voices of her classmates, white noise mingling with the crashing of the waves.
On her right is Maya, bottle of lemonade in hand, slumped lazily against Riley’s side and taking occasional sips. They’re sitting on one of the logs someone dragged to the fire as a makeshift bench, cuddled as close as possible as the night wind brings in a subtle chill. Across from them, on the other side of the bonfire, Zay is sprawled on the sand, roasting marshmallows, and beside him Farkle and Smackle are engaged in what looks to be a very heated conversation.
It’s the summer before their senior year, and there is a soft melancholy in the air, the tangible feeling of growing older; but there is also content and happiness, the comforting blanket of being surrounded by people you have known your whole life, of stepping into yourself and finally being ready to experience the world.
Maya shifts, slightly, and Riley moves to accommodate her, their hands are still clasped tightly together, fingers intertwined. “You good?” Riley asks, fighting through a yawn.
There’s a pause, a quiet, and Riley is struck by how much they’ve changed, and how much they haven’t. There are butterflies in her lungs and a warmth in her gut that feels a lot like love, and her heart still beats just a little faster when Maya sits up to meet her eyes, a soft, affectionate smile gracing her features. They’re teetering at the edge of turning eighteen, of toppling headfirst into a world that they’ve spent all this time trying to get ready for, and Riley used to be afraid of the cliff, but now she knows Maya is going to catch her, has always been ready to catch her. They exist in tandem, two beating hearts and two lost girls who’ve somehow found their way into each other’s arms.
Riley never wants to let her go.
“Perfect,” Maya says, just as softly, leaning in for a kiss, and Riley breathes her in, hands coming up to tangle in Maya’s golden curls. In the distance, someone yells as they trip into the ocean, and Riley smiles against Maya’s lips, giggling breathlessly, as she leans forward even more. The night is cold and Maya is warm and this is where she wants to be forever.
“Don’t ever leave,” she says, quiet and vulnerable, because summer nights are for secrets and feelings and falling in love.
“Not going anywhere, honey, I’m here to stay.”
Riley exhales, linking their hands again. “Good.”