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The first night she meets Riley Matthews, Maya Hart is not having a good time.
The bad day starts around noon, on a warm summer day, when she crashes her car into one of the greaser boys that always like to hang around just outside campus to show off to their female admirers. These guys are everywhere, she curses, as she glances out of the windscreen at the hood of her baby, which has taken the brunt of the damage. These are the kids that think that, just because they own a leather jacket, they can conquer the world.
(Maya doesn’t need a leather jacket to know that she can take on and conquer the world, although the battered item that hangs on the back of her door every night sure helps).
The day only gets worse when she takes her car in for repairs; she knows a couple of local kids who work part-time, including Zay, who is being no help at all when she seeks him out in the garage that afternoon.
“It wasn’t my fault!” She protests, as Zay pushes himself under the battered Hudson Hornet in order to take a closer look at what kind of damage has been done. “You want somebody to blame, blame Huckleberry. He was the one speeding around on that stupid bike and trying to impress Missy Bradford.”
She glowers at the mention of the girl, at the thought of Missy Bradford with her flowing brunette curls and bubblegum pink dress, giggling and blushing behind her hand every time Lucas Friar so much as breathes her way. What the hell is so great about Ranger Rick, anyway?
“And he just happened to crash into the front of your car?” Zay rolls back out into the open, wrench in hand, if only to raise an eyebrow at her. “Lucas doesn’t crash.”
Maya tightens the scarlet ribbon threaded throughout her hair; it’s tied in a bun today, swept out of the way, and her messing with it is a nervous habit, one that her friend can pick up almost immediately.
“Weeeeell…” She drags the word out until Zay motions for her to hurry up. “I may or may not have swerved around him to make a point, and he may or may not have smacked into my car.”
“May or may not,” Zay repeats, shaking his head. “Maya -”
“He was swerving all over the road in the first place! He started it!”
“He started it isn’t going to pay for your repairs, girl.”
“Well, how much am I looking at for you patching her up, Babineaux? Thirty, forty bucks?”
Zay raises an eyebrow. “Your optimism is why I like you, Maya. We’re looking at more like one hundred bucks.”
“Excuse me?”
“Hey, I’m just the mechanic, don’t look at me. But that’s some serious damage to the hood of your car that needs fixing, and it’s gonna take a while.”
Maya huffs, and then kicks a nearby tire, just for the sake of it. “Great.”
“Hey. Don’t abuse my stock just because you couldn’t control yourself,” Zay says, pulling himself to his feet, and grabbing a spare piece of rag to wipe the oil from his fingers. “Listen, I might be able to get it down to ninety bucks for you if the boss is feeling generous, but I’m not making any promises here. I’ll let you know if you drop by tomorrow.”
Maya opens her mouth to argue, before realising that it’s pointless. Ten bucks spared seems like the best she can hope for right now.
“Fine. I’ll be back after my shift tomorrow. Can I use your phone to call Shawn? I’m gonna need a lift home.”
“Knock yourself out, girl.” Zay nods towards the back of the shop, to the payphone on the wall. “You know where it is.”
//
Needless to say, no one at home is happy with the car situation.
Shawn, initially, laughed when he picked her up and she told him the story of how exactly she’s landed herself with a hundred dollar charge for repairs to her car, but he isn’t letting her off the hook lightly, sobering up before Maya faces the chat with her mother - but that’s kind of why she’s always liked Shawn; aside from the fact that most guys wouldn’t want to take on a kid that isn’t theirs, Shawn has always told it like it is. It’s something that she can really respect about him.
Her respect for him doesn’t stop her from sneaking out, however. After being dismissed from the living room in disgrace, she’s slipped out of her bedroom window to go and brood about her car at Yogi’s place. His parties are the talk of the town, and nearly everyone from the NYU campus goes there on Friday nights to forget the stress of their finals and live in denial about the new semester coming up in the fall. Maya lingers in corners and keeps to herself, lighting up cigarette after cigarette, contributing to the cloud of smoke that hangs over the party-goers. That’s why everybody flocks to the parties at Yogi’s - here, there are no rules.
She settles herself in the corner next to the turntable, currently belting out Elvis Presley’s Jailhouse Rock, and picks out people she recognises from campus: Lucas Friar is in the middle of the crowd, of course, arm wrapped around the waist of Missy Bradford, who looks like she might pass out at any moment from the sheer excitement of being on his arm; Sarah, the quiet girl from her art class, is in the opposite corner, perched on the arm of the couch and expertly balancing a drawing pad on her knees as she lights up a cigarette; Charlie Gardener is in the kitchen doorway with Kerri Abelson, who looks like she would rather be anywhere else.
Her reverie is broken by the impact of someone stumbling into her; their drink flies from their hands, and the cup, soaking through the leg of Maya’s jeans.
“Hey! Watch where you’re -”
Her sentence is cut off halfway through, as she glances up, blue eyes meeting wide brown ones, and suddenly she might have forgotten what she was even annoyed about --
-- because this girl might just be the prettiest girl, prettiest human, Maya has ever seen, to the point where it knocks the air from her lungs.
“ - going,” she finishes, but her voice has become soft and breathless, and the words lose all the threat they could have had.
Patches of red cover the girl’s cheeks, staining them ever so beautifully.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, barely reaching Maya’s ears above the music, and before Maya can say anything else, even think of something coherent to say, she’s gone, fighting her way through the crowd, and Maya watches, almost in a daze, the bright material of her green skirt until it vanishes in amongst the other occupants of the house.
She takes another drag on her cigarette and tries to calm her racing heart, tries to block out the rushing in her ears. It’s an issue of hers; her deadbeat dad had left her so young, anyone would think she would have problems with trusting people enough to get such a reaction around them. Not Maya Hart. No, the problem with Maya Hart is that she falls for people fast and hard, in the mad, dizzying rush she can feel coursing through her body right now.
“Oh, my god,” someone says, scandalised, making Maya snap out of her inner thoughts again. A couple of girls have migrated to her area, watching something across the room in uninterrupted fascination. “I thought they broke up.”
“I thought he was going with Isadora Smackle now.”
“Who?”
“Remember, I told you about her? The girl from my chemistry class.”
“Oh, yeah,” the friend replies, but Maya isn’t paying much attention to them anymore. She’s too busy following their gazes, because they’re staring at the beautiful girl from moments earlier, now talking to a boy by the kitchen doorway. She’s leaning her side against the wall, and he’s mirroring her, and they’re laughing together at something he just whispered in her ear. The soft sound of her laughter jolts Maya back down to Earth. Of course. Should she have expected anything different?
This is the fifties, and girls aren’t supposed to look at other girls like that.
//
Two days later, Maya is on her break at the diner at the same time that the girl comes in.
Technically, Monday is her only free day when she doesn’t have classes, but she’s taken on as many shifts as she can in an attempt to try and pay off her car - ninety five bucks, in the end. Shawn paid for the repairs officially, because neither he nor Katy could keep taking time out of their day to chauffeur her back and forth to work, and so Maya needed her car as soon as possible, but she’s not off the hook until she repays him every penny.
That’s fine by Maya. She’s just happy that she has her car back. She may even stop by the garage and tip Zay with the rest of her wages for doing such a good job.
She’s on the last few minutes of her lunch break, sitting in one of the booths at the back of diner and nibbling on a small portion of fries as she listens to the crackling sounds of Ritchie Valens, when the bell on the door lets out a soft jingle, letting everyone know that someone has come in. Maya isn’t sitting in the ideal spot for snooping, but it appears to be a family - two parents and a couple of kids. Whoever they are, they must be somewhat regulars, because there’s a cry of “Mr Matthews!” from the front counter, and her boss is hurrying out to meet them. She shows them to one of the tables by the window, passing by Maya’s spot on her way back to the kitchen to put their orders through, throwing a “Maya, can you take table number eight? He needs more coffee…” over her shoulder. Maya abandons her unfinished fries and goes to retrieve the coffee pot to take to the regular customer at table eight. She’s really pulled the short straw here, because no one likes the guy who always sits at table eight; somewhere along the line, he seemed to forget how to use manners when speaking to other human beings, regardless of whether they work in customer service or not.
She’s doing well up until the moment she actually reaches table eight. She’s reaching for the empty mug when she’s distracted by a gentle shout of “Riley!”, and Maya looks up at the noise, only to lay eyes on the beautiful brunette girl - Riley - from the party the other night, dragging her eyes away from something in Maya’s general vicinity in favour of leaning forward to listen to her mother.
The darkness of the party hadn’t done her features justice.
She’s so caught off guard by the sight that she spills the coffee all over the man’s newspaper, which doesn’t illicit a good reaction. It’s not often that people are in such bad moods that they’ll snap at people who work in customer service jobs, but, after a string of thinly veiled insults, the rude regular leaves, and Maya has to grit her teeth in order to resist the urge of throwing the coffee pot, contents and all, at the back of his head.
Instead, she simply reaches for a handful of paper napkins from the dispenser and begins to clean up the mess.
“Hello.”
She’s stopped by the sound of the soft voice; Maya looks up to see Riley Matthews stood in front of her. When she left her seat and came over, Maya has no idea, but, damn, if she isn’t glad about it.
“I’m Riley. You’re -” Riley glances at her nametag, pinned to the front of her uniform. “Maya?”
Uh-hu, is all Maya can manage. If she could listen to this girl saying her name for the rest of her life, she would consider that a life well lived.
“I’m sorry about what he said to you,” Riley continues, hands clasped together in front of her. “The man with the newspaper. That wasn’t very polite of him, especially since it was an accident.” She looks almost guilty, as if she herself is personally responsible for Maya getting chewed out for being too distracted at work.
(Well, maybe that holds more truth than Maya would like to let on.)
“It’s okay, Riles,” Maya replies, the nickname falling from her mouth as easily as breathing. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
Riley doesn’t look convinced, but she nods, glancing over her shoulder at her table. Her family are watching with curious expressions, but, if Maya isn’t mistaken, there’s a slight smile on her mom’s lips, proud of her daughter for doing such a nice thing. Maya appreciates it too - although, probably not for the same reasons.
“If you’re sure,” Riley says finally, and squeezes Maya’s shoulder for a brief moment before returning to her waiting family, bright pink skirt swaying with her legs.
Maya’s shoulder burns and tingles from the contact, and, if she wanders around the kitchen for the next twenty minutes with something of a dazed smile on her face, well, no one need ever suspect.
//
Maya isn’t entirely sure what she’s doing here.
It’s nearly nine PM, she has a class in twelve hours, and yet, here she is, sitting in her Hudson Hornet outside the Matthews’ apartment building.
It’s not like she’s a stalker, or anything. Far from it, actually, because Riley had given her the address. Due to her extra shifts, Maya has been seeing a lot more of her ill-advised crush, almost every day now - sometimes with friends, sometimes without - and they’ve been striking up conversation. As it turns out, the boy she saw Riley with at the party - Farkle Minkus, the resident genius on campus - is going with Isadora Smackle, the other resident genius, and has no interest in Riley besides friendship. In fact, Riley is unattached in her life right now, which Maya’s idiot brain immediately took as opportunity.
A very unwise decision, and one that she’s sure she’ll regret, if anyone were to find out about this. She’s sure her mom and Shawn would have no problem with it - they’re down to earth people, and Shawn has always taught her to listen to her heart - but the rest of the world isn’t as lenient as the two of them.
Before she can weigh up her options, however, the curtains of the large bay window are drawn back, and Riley’s face appears on the other side of the glass, looking out into the night. She slides the window open a little.
“Maya?” She glances behind her, as if her parents are suddenly going to loom up behind her if her attention is diverted for too long. “What are you doing here?”
Maya decides to take the smooth route and gestures to her car. “Fancy a ride?”
She can see Riley’s eyes widen, even from this distance. “Right now?”
“Sure. C’mon.” Maya flashes her a grin, easy and confident, even though she can hear her rapid heartbeat in her ears. “When’s the last time you did something in the heat of the moment?”
Riley, chewing on her bottom lip, meets her gaze for a long moment, obviously thinking this over, before she disappears from view. For a moment, Maya thinks she’s not going to come back, but then the bay window is thrown wide open, and Riley scrambles out onto the fire escape, a sweater pulled on over her pale blue dress.
Her eyes are wide and bright as she climbs into the passenger seat. “I’ve never sneaked out after dark before!”
She sounds so excited that Maya can’t help but chuckle.
“Don’t you worry, honey. I’ll have you home before they notice.”
She kicks the car into life.
//
They stop at a diner in the end, a different one to the one Maya works out. The woman on the counter’s eyes flicker between her and Riley when they ask for a table for two, but if she’s questioning their intentions, she doesn’t comment. She leads them to a table in the corner, and Riley slides into the side opposite Maya, playing with the sleeve of her sweater.
“Pick something,” Maya encourages her, gesturing to the menu on the table, as she lights up a cigarette, tapping the excess ash out into the ashtray. “My treat.”
“Are you sure?”
“Sure. I was the one who tempted you into a night out on the town, after all. Doesn’t seem fair to make you pay for your own dinner.”
“Speaking of -” Riley picks up the menu now, quickly scanning it for something “- why did you tempt me into a night out on the town? You seem so -”
Maya raises an eyebrow. “What?”
“You just - You seem so cool, with your leather jacket, and your car, and your reckless decisions in the heat of the moment, and I -” Riley looks almost sheepish now, giving a little half shrug. “I’m just me. Why would you want to have a night out with me?”
“Because you’re you,” Maya says, earnest, before she can stop herself. Riley’s gaze leaves the menu and settles on her, brown eyes soft and warm.
“Is it so ridiculous,” Maya continues, because she’s down the rabbit hole now, “that I might enjoy spending time with you?”
“Maybe,” Riley replies, just as the waitress comes over to take their order. Maya orders a tuna melt with fries and a milkshake, and Riley, after a little deliberating, decides that she wants the same.
“So,” Maya says, after a brief period of silence, as someone switches the jukebox to something more upbeat, “you think I’m cool, huh?”
Riley gives her a half smile. “I’m pretty sure everyone thinks you’re cool.”
“Maybe not Friar, though.”
“You mean Lucas Friar?”
Maya raises an eyebrow. “You know him?”
Riley shrugs. “Everyone on campus knows who Lucas Friar is.”
“Unfortunately,” Maya says, flicking ash into the ash tray as she speaks, which makes Riley chuckle quietly. “So, you’re at NYU too?”
“I’m studying to be a teacher, like my father.” There’s a small smile on her face at that, as she thinks about the man in question. “What about you?”
“Art.”
“See? Even that’s cool.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Inspiring the next generation of kids seems pretty brilliant too.”
Riley blushes the same colour as the leather seats, and Maya quickly drops her gaze, picking at her fries so she doesn’t stare at the sight in fascination. They lapse into silence, letting the music fill the space.
Stupid Cupid, indeed, Maya thinks, as she stubs out her cigarette, only to light another one.
“You want one?” She offers the pack out to Riley, as the waitress from earlier returns with their food.
“No, thank you.” Riley plucks a chip from her plate, swiping it through her milkshake before eating it. “I don’t smoke.”
Maya’s not surprised in the slightest. “Good on you. It’s a bad habit to have.”
Riley raises an eyebrow. “Then why do you do it?”
“Like I said, Riles, it’s a habit.” She reaches for her tuna melt with her free hand. “My mom hates it, but Shawn - I mean, my stepfather, says that as long as I don’t smoke in the house then it’s my choice.”
“Shawn sounds very laid back.”
“He is. He’s more of a father than my real dad ever was.”
“What happened?” Riley asks, and then claps her hand to her mouth, something akin to alarm in her eyes. “I mean - if, you’re alright with me asking - I don’t want to pry -”
“It’s fine.” Maya takes a long gulp of her milkshake before continuing. “My dad walked out on us a long time ago. I don’t really remember a lot about him, but I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything. He can’t have been an honest guy if he would leave his wife and daughter just like that.”
“I suppose not,” Riley agrees.
The rest of dinner is filled with more light-hearted small talk. Riley wants to know everything about Maya’s art classes, and Maya works her way through another two cigarettes as she talks, Riley listening in awe as she describes all the different projects she wants to work on, conveniently forgetting to mention that she ended up drawing sketch after sketch of Riley the night after meeting her at that house party. This isn’t the time to be forward.
She does, however, climb out of the drivers side when they pull up outside the Matthews’ apartment building, walking Riley to the fire escape the way someone would walk a girl to her front door, despite her passenger insisting that she doesn’t have to.
Maya has manners and she’s not about to leave without making sure her girl gets inside safe.
“Thank you for dinner,” Riley says, as they linger in the shadows by the bottom of the fire escape. “It was nice.”
“It was,” Maya agrees. “We should do it again sometime.”
If it was different, perhaps, if Maya were a boy, she would kiss Riley goodbye after a nice night like this. But she’s not. She doesn’t even know if Riley is that way inclined, and she doesn’t want to put her foot in it by testing the waters, no matter how much she might like to.
“We should,” Riley echoes, but she doesn’t sound so sure, and Maya strains to see in the dim light as she plays with the sleeves of her sweater again. She’s nervous about something. “Only, Maya -”
“Yeah, Riles?”
“I -” She trails off, and Maya’s waiting for the rejection, the information that Riley has sussed out her underlying motives for wanting to spend all this time with her, and that she can’t carry on doing this with someone like her, in case people get the wrong idea, but the words never come.
Instead, Riley reaches for her in the dark, and presses her lips to hers for one single, clumsy second, and Maya swears she can feel the world spinning under her feet.
Riley draws back after that one second when she doesn’t react, perhaps about to start apologising; Maya reels her back in, and wraps her arms around her waist, because, damn it, she's not letting this moment go for anything.
“I’m very glad I didn’t misread this,” Riley murmurs, and her breath is warm against her cheek, and Maya’s shoulders shake with silent laughter, as she pulls her back in for another kiss.
“Are you coming by the diner tomorrow? I’m working from noon.”
Even in the dark, she can see the curve of Riley’s smile.
“It’s a date.”