Technically, Maya is not old enough to drive in the state of New York (she has to be 16) but for the sake of the story, we're ignoring that :)

March 5, 2028

Maya

Maya loved being at Camila's house. Her grandparents were immigrants from Mexico, and so their fiery, Latino attitudes had been passed down the generations. It meant a lot of Spanish yelling, and absolute chaos if the whole family was home; the complete opposite from Maya's own house, where everything was quiet and peaceful.

That's why she liked it so much. In small doses, that is, because Camila's mom kept offering her food, and her older sister and younger brother knew no boundaries. They included her in everything, smothered her in hospitality, and had said the phrase, ''any friend of Camila's is a member of the family'', more often than Maya could count.

She could best describe it as a warm bath. Nice for a while, until the pressure of the water made her tight-chested and she needed to get out. Usually, that happened after dinner, because they always put down an extra plate without asking and made her eat with them.

Her V8 engine rumbled lowly as it rolled onto the driveway of the suburban home. When Maya told Katya that she wanted a classic car instead of a brand-new Audi, the brunette nearly had a heart attack. Her hand had shot to her chest while Natasha gripped her shoulder to stabilize her, grinning as she did so.

But in the end, the 1968 Mustang convertible made sense for her. Maya was an old soul. And Katya had made peace with the fact. For now.

With one last, deep breath, Maya pulled her keys from the contact and got out, swinging her overnight bag over her shoulder and shaking her curls out of her face. Natasha helped her style them, spending an hour after school washing and diffusing until they fell in tight, even spirals around her head. She never had her hair loose, and it felt unusual, odd, but if she wanted to look nice for a certain blonde tonight, it's what she would deal with.

Yes, she had made more effort than usual. She even put on some lip gloss and applied an extra coat of mascara, but nobody needed to know that.

''You're here! Come in, come in. We were waiting for you.'' The excitement for her party had made Camila more hyper than usual, causing Maya to nearly stumble as she got pulled into the house. She was early to help set up, but it seemed most of it was already done, balloons and flag lines hanging everywhere. Music played from a speaker she couldn't spot so quickly. ''Your hair looks so nice! You should wear it loose more often.''

''It's annoying. Keeps getting in my face.'' Maya kicked off her shoes and threw her overnight bag down by the stairs, flipping her hair out of the way for what felt like the millionth time tonight, as if it wanted to emphasize her point. When she looked up, Camila had already disappeared from the hallway, too restless to wait. It made her chuckle as she followed suit, glad she remembered to put on non-embarrassing socks. ''Did your family already leave?''

''Yep!'' Camila called from the... kitchen? How fast was this girl? ''It's just you, me, and–''

''Me.'' Harper popped up from behind the refrigerator door with what looked like a bowl of dip in her hands, kicking the door shut with her foot. Her easy smile had Maya smiling too. It was too contagious.

''Hey!'' To her absolute delight, Harper wore the pants she bought for her. ''You look really nice.''

Harper opened her mouth to respond, but Camila didn't give her time to.

''No time to talk! Loads to do. Vamos! Let's get moving!'' She clapped her hands and once again raced off somewhere, stomping down the basement staircase. Probably to get more snacks.

Maya raised an eyebrow and joined Harper's side, helping her with the food. Camila's mom had made enough for a small army. ''Is she on another rampage?''

Harper nodded. ''I believe she called me una tortuga de tres patas, because I didn't blow up the balloons fast enough.''

Maya frowned. Her knowledge of Spanish may be limited to what high school taught her, but she knew enough to translate that. ''A turtle with three legs?'' She barked a laugh. ''That one's new.''

Everyone knew not to interfere with Camila when she was anxious yet excited yet stressed out. She turned into a Spanish-rambling, impatient dictator. But the two girls in the kitchen found that rather entertaining, especially when she started throwing weird, unrecognizable Spanish insults their way. Sometimes they riled her up on purpose.

''Maya!''

They both jumped then turned to the kitchen entrance, where Camila's face was barely visible behind the four bottles of soda she had managed to haul into her arms and not drop on the way up.

''What are you doing just standing there? Tengo que hacerlo todo yo por aquí.'' Unceremoniously, she dumped the bottles onto the counter, barely managing to keep them upright. ''Help me move the soda to the kitchen.''

''Yes, madre.'' Maya grinned.

Harper snickered and Camila glared over her shoulder. The latter was a few comments away from kicking her slipper off and hitting Maya over the head with it. And while that did sound fun, Maya would rather be spared the headache. So, she shut her mouth and complied, making a couple trips into the basement and back. Good thing all the soccer training made her stamina so good.

In the end, Camila ended up stressing for nothing, because everything was done more than fifteen minutes before the first people arrived. Food was on the table, drinks were in the fridge and on the counter, the music was good, the lighting was pleasant. And once the stress wore off, she turned into her own, bubbly self again.

That was until the bell rang, signaling the first guests, and all three girls jumped. Camila instantly shot into anxiety-mode again—Maya saw her face fall and pale—Harper got nervous too, because she was incredibly shy around people she didn't know well, and Maya's heart skipped a beat at the thought of Brooklyn standing on the other side of that front door.

It wasn't her. They were people Camila knew from track practice. Maya believed they were in her relay team. But it had gotten her heart pumping, and every time the doorbell rang, it sped up drastically. Until Brooklyn finally showed up, and Maya swore she had never seen something so enchanting.

Flared pants with a bright, swirly pattern, a cropped racerback top in black, and her wavy hair in a high ponytail. She carried a black leather jacket over her arm, but there probably wouldn't be any need for that tonight, since the living room already started to feel stuffy and warm with so many people in one place.

The outfit wasn't anything super special, but it was more than what she'd ever worn to school. An upgrade, more dressed-up, something Maya hadn't seen on her before—this was the first time they were both at the same party—and it didn't allow her to look away.

She may be way too obvious in her staring, it was hard to tell, but she managed to act normal and smile kindly when Brooklyn gave everyone a general hello and a wave.

To Maya's relief, she sat as far away from her as possible once she had secured a drink. It seriously limited her chances to embarrass herself and allowed her to steal glances in anonymity, to observe how Brooklyn was in social situations outside school. It wasn't much different.

She chatted lively with friends, occasionally bopped her head to a song, took slow sips of her root beer, and greeted everyone who arrived with a bright smile that lit up the room. And every time her laugh broke through the music, a shock ran through Maya's body, reminding her exactly of who sat mere feet away from her.

You're being pathetic, she scolded herself. Act normal, she's just a person.

Luckily, Camila sat by her side, which meant a constant stream of conversation into her left ear to distract her. Whenever she caught Maya not paying attention, she scolded her and pulled that attention right back.

So, Maya settled into the safety of her friend, of hiding between two people on the couch, of hiding from Brooklyn. And it worked.

Well, until–

''Yo, whose Mustang is that out front? It's sick.'' Some boy Maya didn't recognize jabbed his thumb over his shoulder as he stepped into the living room, clearly pointing towards her car. He was an hour late to arrive, and clearly wanted everyone to know he was here now, his voice loud.

''It's Maya's,'' Camila said from beside her.

Twenty pairs of eyes or more—yes, including that pair—snapped to the timid redhead on the couch, the music seemingly dimming down. Maya's cheeks flushed at the sudden attention and her nails dug into her palms.

She shyly smiled, and the boy looked at her like it was the first time he saw her, even though he was in her English class, math class, and history class. Clearly nobody paid attention to anyone but themselves in this world.

His blue eyes settled on her face suspiciously. ''Is it your parents'?''

Well, that was offensive.

Maya shook her head. ''Mine.''

The boy scoffed a laugh and looked around the room, waiting for someone to laugh along with him, but nobody did. ''A girl with a car like that?''

Maya's cheeks darkened as she grimaced awkwardly, not sure what to do or what to answer to that. She didn't know this boy, what he'd do if she fought back—which wasn't her strong suit anyway.

But people were still staring, and waiting quietly for her response, and—

''That is sexist, Chris.''

Brooklyn. Maya never needed anyone to come to her rescue, but gosh, was she happy someone knocked this guy down a step. Because her cheeks burned painfully and her words got stuck in her throat because of all the staring, and this Chris guy had been seconds away from an ego boost because of her silence.

''Oh, piss off, Lyn.'' Chris rolled his eyes, but his demeanor wavered as everyone stayed quiet, watching with interest. ''I'm just saying, most girls don't know anything about cars.''

Wrong thing to say to the daughter of two strong-minded women who didn't let anyone else define them. She'd be damned if she let a boy tell her what she did and didn't know.

Her fingernails dug deeper into Maya's palms, the muscles in her jaw tightened and a fire ignited in her chest. With a sudden burst of confidence—probably gained from Brooklyn speaking up—she sat up straighter and looked him dead in the eye as she said calmly, ''It's a first-generation 1968 Ford Mustang convertible with a 6.4 liter, 275 horsepower V8 engine, chrome ornamentation, foldable windows, an energy-absorbing steering wheel, a fully integrated air-conditioning system, and at the time newly introduced shoulder belts. It has ball-joint front suspension with coil springs and four-leaf springs at the rear.'' She paused for dramatics, everyone hanging onto her every word. ''But technically, I don't know that.''

As her words faded out, the music faded back in, but it did nothing to cut the tension as they awaited Chris' reaction. Out of the corner of her eye, Maya saw a smile appear on Brooklyn's face, but she was too focused on Chris and his grimace to feel proud of herself yet. She'd just gone from being practically invisible to someone who everyone in this room knew, and she could slowly feel the shyness creep back in as her adrenaline boost wore off.

''That means she knows what she's driving, pendejo. I doubt you can name the year your mom's Honda was built,'' Camila sassed. And once again, Maya was grateful for her friend backing her up.

Chris stared for a bit longer, narrowing his eyes dangerously, but eventually he cut his losses, knowing he was outnumbered. He scoffed a ''whatever'', and walked off, going for a drink in the kitchen. Maya decided not to point out that he still wore his jacket.

As she sank back into the couch, keeping her fists clenched to hide the tremble in her fingers, people started to chat again. They were smiling, chuckling at Chris' embarrassment, surprisingly not staring at her as much as she feared they would.

Except for Brooklyn. By the time Maya dared to look up and glance around the room, pink lingering in her cheeks, the blonde girl still hadn't let up on her attempts to catch her attention. Their gazes locked, and Maya swore her soul left her body when Brooklyn winked encouragingly and sent her a thumbs-up.

She winked. She winked at her.

Maya turned into a blushing mess, her ears burning as she smiled back before quickly looking away and pretending to be very invested in the conversation Camila was having with the girl next to her. But the truth was that she heard nothing of what they said and was hyper aware of the girl across the room who she had a painfully real, deep crush on.

She was so, so screwed.

Natasha

''We worry too much, right?''

It was well past one AM, but neither of them could sleep. It was a recent development—if a year could still be counted as recent—that Maya's parties lasted all night. If she didn't sleep over, her curfew was one AM. And even though Maya was always on time, Natasha could never sleep until she was home.

She didn't sit on the living room couch in the dark as the strict mom, to monitor and make sure Maya was home on time. No, she sat on that couch as a worried mom, who knew something was wrong if her daughter wasn't home at exactly one and hadn't sent a text to ensure otherwise. As soon as that minute hand crept up on the eleven and there still wasn't a distinctive V8 sound on the driveway, the worst scenarios popped into Natasha's brain.

Maya had an accident and lay dead in a ditch somewhere; her car died on some dark road and her phone had died; or she'd been snatched up by the family's long list of enemies and was currently being tortured.

The worries never got less, no matter how much time passed and how many parties she went to. They trusted Maya, one hundred percent. It was strangers they didn't trust, freak accidents that could happen that were no one's fault.

But those didn't stop them from letting her go every time. They may be over-worried and overprotective at times, but that was their problem and should never become Maya's.

All they asked for was a text or call if it got later than one AM, and a text when she lay safely in bed, regardless of if she stayed over at a friend's house or not. Luckily, she found that more than reasonable.

Katya sunk next to Natasha on the couch, handing her a warm cup of tea. Naturally, she always joined her on that couch during those nights. ''No, we worry like two moms who have seen too much of the worst of humanity.'' She crossed her legs under her body. ''All Maya worries about tonight is judgy teenage girls and boys with too many hormones.''

''God, that sounds great.'' Natasha groaned, dropping her head back. To have the worries of a fifteen-year-old...

Katya chuckled and patted her hand comfortingly. ''I'm sure she'll text soon.''

The house was silent—too silent without their beloved daughter—and half-dark, the curtains drawn shut. In the dead of night, or actually the very early morning, the silence tended to linger, to feel denser, but perhaps that was just Natasha's imagination. Whatever it was, it didn't help her anxiety.

Soft pitter-patter behind them drew their attention to the black cat coming down the stairs. Liho slept on Maya's bed every night, but she must have understood that the girl wasn't coming home tonight and gave up hope, choosing to tread downstairs. Elegantly, she jumped onto the couch and crawled into Katya's lap, meowing pitifully. They surely grew closer over the years.

''Hey, baby. Yeah, she's not here, hm?'' Another meow, as if Liho worried too. ''You and me both. But she's at a party, she's having fun. She'll be back tomorrow," Katya said sadly, scratching behind the cat's ears.

Natasha smiled at her adorable voice as she baby-talked the animal. But then Liho looked at the redhead as if to ask, 'is it true what she's saying?', in a very sad way, and it nearly broke the woman's heart.

''Don't use those big green eyes on me. You know that's my soft spot," she complained.

''Now your mama knows how that feels, Lee.'' Katya bopped the cat's nose, smiling when she meowed again.

Natasha raised an eyebrow. ''Are you talking to me through the cat?''

''I don't know, am I?'' Katya retorted. But when she finally looked at her, she sported a teasing grin. Natasha rolled her eyes, unable to fight off the smile that weaseled its way onto her lips. "I am. Do I have more problems than we realized?"

"Nah, everyone talks to their pets. It's fine." Natasha waved the concern away.

"That is a relief. Don't think Eliza can see any more of me." Her sentence almost got interrupted by the world's biggest yawn. It was loud, her mouth open wide, until her nose scrunched up all the way and her eyes squeezed shut.

Again, adorable. Natasha smiled fondly at the sight.

''You should go to bed. I won't be sleeping until she texts, and I can wake you up when she does," she offered softly, knowing how tired her wife usually was after a workday.

But Katya sent her a sharp, dismissive look that made her feel dumb for even offering. She never left her alone on nights like these—because Natasha never left her alone during anxious episodes either—and Natasha should give up on trying to convince her otherwise.

The redhead slowly raised her hand in surrender, smiling amusedly. "My bad. Forgot who I was talking to." Katya nodded satisfactorily and slowly leaned into her until her head rested on her shoulder. This was all Natasha usually needed to relax, but she couldn't get her daughter out of her head. "What do you think they're doing at that party?"

"Okay, that's enough." Katya abruptly stood, nearly slamming her tea down on the coffee table to make a point. Liho scrambled away.

Natasha frowned up at her. "What?"

"Enough sitting here sulking in our worry. We need to do something to pass the time. Doom-thinking isn't helping anyone." She made grabby hands, urging her to stand up, but Natasha was too busy staring at her confused. "Get your beautiful ass off the couch!" She urged in a terrible Texas accent.

A surprised laugh echoed through the empty house. ''Where did that come from?'' Natasha let her take her hand and pull her up.

''I'm tired, I start doing weird stuff. You know this.''

''Okay, cowboy," she mused, being guided into the kitchen without so much as a glare—meaning Katya was too focused to give one. The brunette dropped her hand at the kitchen island to scour off on her own, pulling the cabinets open and leaving Natasha none the wiser. "What are we doing?"

"We're baking something."

Natasha's eyebrows flew up. "At one-thirty at night?"

Katya pulled her head out of a cabinet, a challenging look in her eyes and a bag of flour in her hand. "Are you the baking police?"

"No?"

"Well then."

Natasha pouted, pettily glaring at the back of her wife's head. "Somebody also tell you you start being rude when you're tired?" She grumbled under her breath when Katya had dived back into the cabinet. But it wasn't soft enough.

Like being shot, Katya snapped back to her. "I start being what?" She narrowed her eyes, daring her to say it again. Natasha loved messing with her, but she valued her life more.

"Incredibly sexy after midnight," she said instead. Katya narrowed her eyes further but eventually just huffed, returning to the cabinets to look for more ingredients. For what, Natasha still didn't know. "Am I allowed to help this time?"

"Sure, you can mix things."

"Yeey," she cheered dryly. But to her chagrin, this was already working. Worries about Maya slowly started to fade to the back of her mind.

Katya gathered some more ingredients and dumped them all on the counter, staring at them with a sigh. "How about vanilla cupcakes?"

"Do you just know that recipe from the top of your head?" Natasha frowned. They'd only made cupcakes out of those store-bought boxes before, so this was odd.

"I made some with Maya last week, remember?" Katya grabbed a bowl and a whisk and started measuring the ingredients, but not before turning on the oven.

Now that was even more odd, because the last time Natasha tasted a cupcake was months ago. "What? When? I didn't have cupcakes last week?" Her brows knotted tighter together when Katya stayed silent. Suspiciously silent. "Kat?"

The woman grimaced and shrunk, not sparing her a glance. "Whoopsie."

Natasha scoffed. "I can't believe this." A pout lay on her lips. "When I was on that overnight trip to Langley, right?" Less than forty-eight hours, that's the time she was gone.

Katya shrunk further. "Maya and I miss-you-baked," she said softly, eyeing her apologetically through her lashes. And now how could Natasha ever be mad at that? Her heart melted at the thought that they missed her so much.

She sighed defeatedly, the anger leaving her body at once. "You could have saved me one."

"I stress eat," Katya muttered timidly. Which was not a lie, and which was also not her fault. Damn her for being so adorable.

Natasha groaned softly. "Fuck, Kat, you make it really hard to stay mad at you."

A careful smile grew on Katya's lips. It was clear she did feel bad. "I'll dedicate these cupcakes to you?"

"Fine."

"Come help me then."

They were barely ten minutes in, the batter nearly done, when Natasha's phone chimed. She all but dropped the eggs in her hands and yanked her phone out of her pocket, her heartbeat skyrocketing. But it was just a picture of Maya lying on a mattress on Camila's bedroom floor, her legs under the covers. She was safe and sound.

''Is that her?'' Katya asked, trying to peer onto the screen as she mixed the batter. Her movements were purposeful yet slow; she was tired.

When Natasha showed her the text as an answer, she instantly dropped the spatula and turned off the oven, ripping her apron off with newfound energy. It caught Natasha so off guard that she blinked blankly.

"What are you doing?"

"We're going to bed," Katya said matter-of-factly. "I'm tired as fuck."

Natasha was stunned, staring at her frozen as she washed and dried her hands and tossed the towel carelessly on the counter. "We're halfway into the process."

"Feel free to complete it. My rude ass is out." And off she went, leaving the kitchen without a single glance, the bowl with batter on the counter to stay there overnight, prey for the cats.

"Kat!" Natasha laughed when she realized she was serious, her body shaking with it. Hurriedly, she placed the bowl in the fridge and ran after her wife, flipping off the kitchen light as she went. Katya was halfway up the stairs when she caught up with her, dragging her feet from step to step. "So you did hear what I said."

"A lot may be wrong with me, but my hearin' ain't one of 'em," she said in the same Texas accent, to Natasha's dismay.

"Stop with that accent. It'll give me nightmares." She swore Katya had a grin on her face, but it was hard to tell from walking behind her.

"Apologies, ma'am. Whenever I see a fine lady, my mouth won't stop runnin'."

Natasha narrowed her eyes on her back, deciding to give her a taste of her own medicine. "If you keep talkin' like that, the only one runnin' will be me."

Katya let out a shriek of laughter, abruptly stopping in the doorway of their bedroom. "Yours is even worse!" She cried, which was true. Natasha's accent sounded like her tongue got twisted in her mouth.

"Ew, I hated that. I have goosebumps!" The redhead exclaimed indignantly, raising her arm to show it. The only answer she got was more shrieking laughter from her wife. They were such children.

Maya

By some absolute miracle, Maya managed to avoid and dodge Brooklyn all Friday night. She timed her kitchen visits perfectly, made sure to always be on opposite sides of the room, and bolted if she thought Brooklyn came her way.

Again, possibly way too obvious, but she just couldn't do it, she couldn't talk to her. Not yet. Not during that party when her brain lay in scrambles after that wink. Preferably not at all. But Maya had a feeling it was inevitable.

Because something had shifted. Brooklyn had seen her. There'd been more than the usual smile and a wave—a wink, a thumbs-up. They went from classmates to 'someone you know through a friend'. Their routine had been broken and there was no way back. Things had permanently changed; their paths were bound to cross.

It happened the following Tuesday. The sun shone surprisingly brightly for early March, the gentle breeze didn't feel like it came from the North Pole, and Maya could sit outside in just her sweater and not get cold. It was a rarity, the climate going crazy again, but it allowed her to do one of her favorite things; spend her free period outside, sitting in the stands by the soccer field.

During her first year, she discovered that nobody came there outside of training or games. It was quiet, secluded, kept her hidden away from view, and allowed her to work peacefully on her homework or read her book. Exactly what she needed after spending the morning in stuffy, loud classrooms with kids who didn't have a shred of respect for their teachers. It was the perfect place to recharge.

Or, it was supposed to be. Because today, there was a disruption. Another one.

Maya was half an hour deep into her homework, punching numbers into her calculator, when a sound broke her concentration. Footsteps, right below the stands, way closer than she would have liked. It could be a passerby, but the soccer field lay a good distance away from the school and Maya had a feeling her luck had run out.

She perked her ears and clenched her pen tightly, the numbers in her notebook blurring as she focused on her hearing only, hoping they'd keep walking. But the stairs to the grandstand had a very distinctive metal sound when climbed, and Maya exhaled deeply through her nose when it rang through the air. Someone was coming up.

And sure enough, someone emerged, their figure coming her way. She kept her head down and hoped that ignoring them would push them to leave. Again, no such luck. They came closer and closer, Maya's annoyance growing by the second, until—way too late—she finally realized who it was.

''Hey.''

She whipped her head up, eyes wide, staring straight into Brooklyn's smiling face. It wasn't the first time today she saw her; her green cargo pants, grey long sleeve and denim jacket familiar, but that didn't take away from the shock of being approached and being greeted.

Now what in the world was she doing out here? It couldn't be for the solitude or silence if she started a conversation.

''Oh, hi!''

Too loud, too enthusiastic, too surprised. But if Brooklyn noticed, she didn't say anything. Her smile only grew, in fact, her cheeks a light shade of pink as she grasped the straps of her backpack. She appeared nearly timid, but that couldn't possibly be true.

''Mind if I join you?'' She asked politely, gesturing to the spot next to Maya.

The way Maya's heart jumped with excitement and nerves could not be healthy, but she rushed to shake her head, pushing the million questions in her mind away. ''Not at all.'' Within seconds, she had gathered her scattered stuff and cleared the bench for Brooklyn to sit, which she did so gratefully, sending her another sparkling smile.

''I like your bracelet,'' she complimented, dropping her bag on the ground.

Maya's gaze shot to her wrist, twisting the silver chain around as she fought off the heat in her cheeks. ''Oh, thank you. I got it for Christmas years ago.'' Her heart fluttered in her chest like a hummingbird, but there was something soothing about the way Brooklyn's perfume enveloped her. ''I like your shoes.''

''Thanks.'' Brooklyn smiled, putting her feet up on the bench in front of them to reveal more of her all-white Doc Martens utility boots. But it wasn't showing off her shoes that she was here for, and she quickly turned back to the girl at her side, curiosity swimming in her blue eyes. ''Maya, right?''

The name rolled off her tongue for the first time, and she made it sound so delicate that Maya's breath nearly got stuck in her throat. ''Yes.'' She smiled back, fiddling with the pen in her hands. ''Brooklyn, right?''

''Yes, but you can call me Lyn, if you want. It's easier.'' The blonde offered. Maya stored that information for later. ''It was pretty cool how you put Chris in his place on Friday. He doesn't know when to shut his mouth.'' Her eyes sparkled at the memory.

Maya tried to return her enthusiasm, but it looked more like a grimace. Her pride of standing up for herself had long worn off, and embarrassment had taken over pretty fast. She was pretty sure she'd made a fool of herself. ''I have no idea where that came from, to be honest,'' she said, her face burning red. She swore she didn't use to blush so much. ''I'm usually not that...''

''Outspoken?'' Brooklyn shrugged when Maya nodded slowly. ''That's what we gotta do to knock boys down a notch these days. Doubt he learned anything from it, but we keep trying. I thought it was cool.''

Eventually, Maya just smiled, not sure what to answer. In her head, it went, ''she thinks you're cool!'', on an endless loop and with big red sirens, but on the outside, she averted her eyes to the empty soccer field.

Brooklyn's gaze got too heavy to hold, and the momentary silence between them left her unsure of what to say or do. It felt rude to return to her homework—the last thing she wanted was for Brooklyn to think she was bothering her. But Maya had never been a good conversation starter with people she didn't know, which resulted in a lingering silence between them.

But to her surprise, Brooklyn made herself more comfortable by folding her legs underneath her and tilting her face towards the late-winter sun, closing her eyes. She did not appear intent on leaving any time soon, which gave Maya a boost of self-assurance and calmed her rushing heart. Maybe the blonde didn't mind the quiet either. In fact, she seemed to enjoy it.

''You're out here a lot,'' she commented eventually, blinking her eyes open. Her expression wasn't judgy, it was insanely curious. Like she wished to know how Maya's brain worked and why she did the things she did.

''Free period.'' Maya shrugged, ignoring how Brooklyn's words implied she'd been watching her close enough to notice her routines. ''Nobody comes here and it's quiet.''

''Sorry for ruining your main character moment.'' The blonde teased, amusement dancing in her dark blue eyes. Maya was taken aback by the casual joking but found herself wanting to join in instantly. She grew up with her moms' banter, after all.

''It's alright. I'll just write the letter to my soldier spouse in Iraq another time,'' she quipped, a dumb smile on her face. To her absolute delight, Brooklyn let out a loud laugh, her body shaking with it. The sound was wonderful. Maya could feel the butterflies in her chest flutter on the same vibrations. ''No, but I like to do my homework while I'm stuck here so I can do things I actually enjoy at home.''

The words came surprisingly easy, as did opening up. Not at all what she had expected after Brooklyn left her such a flustered mess so easily. But the girl just felt so easy to talk to. Maya could feel that there were no ulterior motives with her, no games, no theater. What you saw is what you got.

''Smart. What do you enjoy doing?''

''Oh, eh...'' What were hobbies again? ''I like to draw. Not that I'm any good. It's just for fun. Or I watch a movie or a show, read a book.''

Brooklyn suddenly perked up, enthusiasm in her eyes. It startled Maya slightly. ''Oh! What book are you reading right now?'' She snatched her bag from the ground and rummaged through it messily, pulling a novel from the very bottom. It looked worse for wear. ''I'm reading this one. I do like some bits, but I'm not sure what to think of it.''

Maya furrowed her brows as she studied the cover, delighted they shared an interest and Brooklyn didn't think she was lame. Not many teenagers found reading "cool". ''I haven't read that one. What's it about?''

Subconsciously, Brooklyn flipped the book open to reveal lots of underlined and highlighted sentences, some notes in the byline. They were everywhere. Pink, green and yellow markings, blue pen scribbled next to the printed words she must have found intriguing. Her cheeks grew red once she remembered it was all there, quickly shutting the novel and turning to the back for the summary.

Maya had never seen her embarrassed, ever. Brooklyn was unapologetically herself, which was an admirable trait. But notes in books were very personal, not something easily shared with someone you barely knew, so Maya got her reaction.

She also swore she had just fallen further.

''It's science-fiction," Brooklyn said, hesitantly peering up at her. If reading was considered nerdy by half their class, then reading science-fiction was considered even nerdier.

''I love science fiction." Maya smiled. After all, weren't her moms' lives one big sci-fi movie? "It's my favorite genre. Or fantasy.''

The wariness in Brooklyn's eyes turned into pleasant surprise, her shoulders perking up. ''Me, too!''

Maya's heart took a leap, but she didn't have time to admire the blonde's joyful expression for long, because she leaped into a thorough summary of the book.

Her voice was pleasant to listen to, and the liveliness with which she told the story had Maya smiling subconsciously, nodding every now and then. She loved to listen to people, especially when they were passionate about something, but she had to admit to missing half the words this time because the person saying them had her so entranced.

''It sounds kind of interesting," she said after Brooklyn had stopped rambling, tilting her head in thought. "Do you think I should read it?'' Honestly, she'd read it anyway.

Again, the blonde appeared pleasantly surprised, her eyes bright. ''I'll let you know after I finish it," she promised.

''Please do.'' Maya smiled shyly, the thought of having another conversation with her making her feel giddy.

This may as well have been a one-time thing, but Brooklyn had clearly sought her out with intention, and that made her feel both nervous and excited for what was to come, because she had inherited Katya's endless pit of hope. Hope that the girl would turn into a friend. Not more than that. Maya was hopeful, but not delusional.

Another silence fell. Brooklyn stuffed her novel back into her bag and Maya readjusted the textbooks and notebooks in her lap.

It didn't feel awkward, it felt... new. They both had to test the waters, figure the other person out. Waving from across the classroom hardly told Maya anything about the way Brooklyn was in conversations.

The girl sat back, throwing her blonde hair over her shoulders to get it out of her face. A fresh wave of her perfume wafted Maya's way, but she didn't have time to figure out what brand it was, because Brooklyn's gaze had locked onto the books in her lap.

''Oh, do you understand that exercise?" Her eyes widened, sounding hopeful. "I tried to figure it out, but I don't get what I'm supposed to fill in, and I'm already struggling with Physics.''

She jumped from topic to topic, never sticking with one for long. Chaotic, but Maya found it adorable, and funny. It reminded her of her Mom whenever she got excited.

''I understand most of it."

"Could you please help me?" She pleaded gently. "I mean, if you want to, if you have time."

However could Maya say no to those eyes? She was down bad. Worse than she thought. This was only supposed to be a crush.

"Of course." She smiled. "If you have your books with you?''

An ecstatic, huge smile stretched across Brooklyn's face as she nodded. ''I think they're in here somewhere.''

And back she dove into her backpack, rummaging wildly through it. A couple loose papers fell out, a pen clattered on the bench, and Maya smiled amusedly at the mess. It appeared to have been shoved in there without regard, yet it was all in good condition.

''Don't laugh, okay?" Brooklyn said, although she laughed right along with Maya. "I know my bag is a mess. You should see my locker.'' Yet somehow, she managed to get hold of her Physics textbook. ''Ah, here it is.''

She dropped it in her lap, together with a notebook and a pen, and then casually scooted closer to Maya so they could better work together, their arms nearly touching.

The redhead stiffened, suddenly very conscious of herself, of the way she breathed, smelled, of her posture. The slight anxiety that had faded away during their conversation popping up again. But she knew better than to listen to anxiety, and asked instead,

''What do you have already?''

Brooklyn grinned, showing the empty page of her notebook. ''Nothing.''

Maya laughed and nodded, diving into a detailed explanation of the exercise.

It took a while, but she didn't mind. The weather was beautiful, and Brooklyn was great company. Her chaotic, bubbly self dimmed when she really concentrated, a crease between her brows as she chewed on the back of her pen. More than once, Maya had to force herself to stop staring, thrown off by just how close their heads were together.

It was hard for her to believe that the girl was sitting next to her, choosing to spend her free period with her. They'd always existed in separate bubbles, floating past each other by only inches, like living in different universes that vibrated on a slightly different wavelength.

But today, Brooklyn crossed that line and stepped into her world. And strangely, she fit right in. And as time progressed, it started to feel like she belonged.

Half the time, they worked in silence. And if they did talk, it was about the homework. Brooklyn was aware she interrupted a study session, and Maya appreciated that she didn't try to turn it into gossip hour. Even if she'd gladly thrown her textbooks off this grandstand if it meant talking to her.

She hoped the girl didn't notice how long it took her to read one page of her History reading homework, but she could simply not focus with her so close.

More and more things about her moms became clear to Maya, like how they were so distracted by each other during the simplest tasks, or how helping the other and making them laugh was the best feeling.

This crush could possibly end Maya's sanity.

After a good half hour, they both looked up at the same time when a man crossed the field in front of them; the first person they'd seen since they sat down. He dragged a net of soccer balls behind him, dumping it in the center circle, and then took off again. Prepping for a later training.

''You play, right?'' That curiosity was back on Brooklyn's face, her head tilted as she awaited an answer patiently.

Maya nodded, red coating her cheeks once more. She didn't think anyone had noticed she played, or if anyone cared enough. Women's soccer wasn't exactly the school's most popular sport, although it did get a fair number of spectators every game. Especially now that the high school football season was over.

''For how long?''

''Five years now, I think? I don't know why I suddenly wanted to play, but my moms didn't question it and signed me up.'' She shrugged. ''Do you play any sports?''

She knew exactly what Brooklyn played. Volleyball. The captain of the women's volleyball team sat by her side. They trained the same days Maya's team did; on Mondays and Wednesdays. But the volleyball team had games on Saturdays, while Maya's happened on Friday nights.

She swore she wasn't a stalker.

''I'm on the volleyball team." Brooklyn's nose scrunched up playfully. "Not sure why they wanted me. I'm not as tall as the others.''

''Apparently, your skills make up for that," Maya joked, proud of herself when it earned her a laugh. Brooklyn looked carefree when she laughed, happy.

''Apparently, they do. I'm not that passionate about it, but I like the team and it gets me moving." Again, her intriguing blue eyes landed on Maya's. She had to stop looking at her like that. "I'll stop by your next game. When is it?''

Full gay panic nearly short-circuited Maya's brain.

She wanted to come to her game? She would be sitting in this exact spot, watching Maya play for a whole of ninety minutes, cheering her on?

It would be Maya's demise, the reason her team would lose Friday, because there's no way she could focus while being anxiously aware of this beautiful presence in the grandstand.

Luckily, her moms didn't raise her to shut down in stressful situations.

''This Friday, seven-thirty.'' Make a move, Maya. Make a move. Come on. Your moms will be proud when you eventually tell them. ''I can pick you up if you want?'' She offered shyly.

Brooklyn's eyebrows raised slowly. ''I get a ride in your 1968 Mustang with a 4.6–? Yeah, I'm not even gonna try.'' She laughed, pulling one from Maya as well. ''But yeah, yeah, I'd really like that.''

Timidly, heat in her cheeks, Maya glanced down at her lap. ''You'd be a bit earlier, though. I got to warm up and have talks with the coach and stuff.''

''I don't mind being early. Means I can pick a good seat.'' Brooklyn took her phone, tapped on it for a bit, and then handed it to Maya. She had already created a contact for her. The only thing still needed was her number, which the girl eagerly added. ''I'll text you so we can work out the details.''

''Okay.''

Maya's phone chimed by her side, and she threw a quick glance at the screen to find a text. "Hi it's me :)" Her stomach lurched. Brooklyn had her number, she had Brooklyn's number. She would rush to save it as soon as she was alone.

"Alright." Brooklyn appeared excited, a joyful smile on her lips as she put her phone back into her pocket. ''I gotta go, unfortunately, but thank you for helping me today."

Maya watched her pack her stuff, trying to hide her disappointment. There was so much more she wished to know about her. ''No problem. Glad I could help.''

When she stood and swung her bag over her shoulder, Brooklyn turned back to her. Maya had to squint up against the bright sun to see her face. ''It was really nice talking to you. I should have done it much sooner." The butterflies in Maya's stomach surged up, leaving her at a loss for a reply. "Bye, Maya.''

''Bye.''

And gone she was, descending the metal stairs with a spring in her step.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Maya let out a contained squeal. She talked with the girl she had a crush on and didn't completely embarrass herself! Her moms were right, she could be very good in conversation if she let go of her fears and didn't overthink it.

Part of her wanted to call them right away, or info-dump them when she got home, but they would figure out immediately what Brooklyn meant to her if she did.

Besides, what exactly had happened just now? Was that flirting? Or was it a friendly conversation and Maya was just someone nice to be around and help with homework? And did Brooklyn come to the game because she was interested in it, or because she came to cheer on Maya only?

It would be so nice to consult her moms now. But it was too early. Not yet.

Maya's plans for finishing her homework could be flushed down the drain. Brooklyn had taken over her whole mind. The girl's laugh echoed in her ears, her smile was burned onto her eyelids, and all the things she said replayed on a loop.

Giddy, she clicked on the text she'd received and saved Brooklyn's number in her phone. When she returned to the chat, the girl's name stood at the very top of the screen; unreal, like she was dreaming. But that was really her in her profile picture, smiling directly into the camera. Maya hoped her own picture—a selfie she took with Mimosa—wasn't lame, but it would be too late to change it anyway.

After a moment's hesitation, she replied to the text. Her heart pounded, but it felt like the right thing to do, and she didn't care if it looked desperate. They were friends now, were they not?

"Hi!"

~~~~~~~~

A/N: hi!! Happy weekend. I don't have much to say, so I'm taking this moment to thank all of you again for all your reads every week and your comments and for sticking around for this book over the years. It really is the highlight of my week to upload for you and see all your comments. So thank you! Hope you enjoyed this chapter :)