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You would think that being in a secret relationship would be something of a struggle. Maya thinks she and Riley are handling it surprisingly well.
Sure, there are times when it’s a pain, when there’s frustration there, when jealousy blooms in her chest at the sight of all the other couples their age that get to hold hands in public instead of under the table at greasy burger joints to avoid suspicion. If Maya had her way, she’d be taking Riley to much nicer places, and she certainly wouldn’t be holding her hand under the table and letting it go every two minutes when someone walks by.
That being said, the regulars at the Nighthawk diner have learnt not to comment or ask questions. Only one person has been stupid enough to try, seeking her out at work to tell her that they know exactly what she’s been trying to keep quiet for these past few months. Their lips curl into an ugly smile as they spit out another word that begins with a q, which results in them on the floor courtesy of Maya’s fist and her boss calling her into the office to let her know that they couldn’t keep her on after this kind of detrimental behaviour.
Which kind of detrimental behaviour they were trying to refer to, Maya still doesn’t know. But, regardless, she leaves the diner with her head held high, and rolls her eyes at the horrified expression on Riley’s face when she tells her later that night.
“It’s fine, Riles, really,” she says, stealing one of Riley’s fries with her free hand. “I hated that job anyway.”
“It’s not fine, peaches,” Riley insists, but squeezes her hand in solidarity anyway. Honestly, Maya thinks, she doesn’t deserve her girl’s unwavering loyalty half the time. “What did your mom say?”
Maya snorts. “I told her I accidentally set the diner kitchen on fire. She was furious.”
“Peaches,” Riley says again, chastising this time.
“What? I couldn’t tell her the truth, could I? It would lead to all these conversations.” Maya picks up her tuna melt, taking a moment to simply listen to the sound of Bobby Darin crooning through the jukebox, before grinning. “You’re the only one I want to have conversations with.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Riley says, but the soft stain on her cheeks and the bright gleam in her eyes tell Maya that perhaps it does.
The subject, for now, is dropped.
//
Now that she’s out of a job, and still has art supplies to fund, Maya has to scramble to find work pretty quickly.
She ends up splitting her days off between two shifts, waiting tables at yet another diner in the morning and then kicking back with Zay in the garage during the afternoon. The actual work part isn’t exactly stimulating - she’s a glorified secretary, really - but spending more time with Zay (almost) makes it worth it.
“You’re somewhat of an infamous name now, you know,” her friend says one day, as they linger out back for a smoke break, sharing Maya’s last remaining cigarette. She’s trying to limit how much she smokes these days, mainly because she knows Riley doesn’t really like it when all she can taste is tobacco when they kiss but is also too polite to say anything outright. “Not many chicks get hired around here.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed. But you know me, Babineaux.” Maya flashes him a grin. “I’m just too good to resist.”
“Speaking of too good to resist -” Zay smirks at her “- how’s Riley?”
If he notices the sudden tension in her shoulders, he doesn’t point it out.
“Fine and dandy.” Maya works to keep her voice light. “Just like always.”
“When am I gonna get to meet this boyfriend of yours?” Zay knocks her shoulder playfully. “I need to make sure he’s treatin’ you right.”
“Very soon, I’m sure,” Maya replies vaguely, but she knows that the smile she’s painted on her face doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and the feeling in the bottom of her stomach feels an awful lot like dread.
//
It’s nearly eight PM when the phone in the hallway starts ringing. Lucky for her, Maya is the one who reaches it first.
“Hart residence.”
There’s a slight sniffle from the end of the line. Then: “Peaches.”
Her stomach drops through the floor at the sound of the familiar nickname. “Riles?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Shawn watching her from the gap in the kitchen door. Oh, how she wishes someone would invent a cordless phone so she could escape to her room for privacy; instead, she tries to compose herself.
“Are you alright?”
“Can you come here? I -” She’s cut off by something for a moment - herself, someone in the background, Maya isn’t sure. “I just really need you right now.”
“Okay.” Shawn is still watching her, his eyes burning into the side of her face. She needs to come up with some kind of excuse. “I’ll, uh, I’ll get that back to you as soon as possible.”
Riley catches on pretty fast. Her voice wobbles a little. “Oh. Are your family watching?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” She sucks in a breath. “Okay, okay. Just, get here when you can? Please, peaches?”
Maya twirls the cord of the phone around her pinky finger. She’s still technically under house arrest until further notice for losing her job by “setting the kitchen on fire”, but she’ll be damned if she leaves Riley when her girl really needs her.
“I’ll see what I can do,” she says, hoping Riley can hear the underlying i’m on my way, before putting the phone down.
“Everything alright?” Shawn asks, snapping her out of her own thoughts, the plans of how she’s going to take off in her car without them noticing.
“Peachy,” Maya says, and she can’t quite keep the grimace from her face. “Just peachy.”
//
It’s nearly forty five minutes before she can slip out of the house without anyone noticing and book it to the Matthews’ apartment building. Riley is waiting for her at the bottom of the fire escape; she leaps up when she sees the familiar Hudson Hornet pull up on the street corner, and Maya all but throws herself from the driver’s seat to make it over to her girlfriend faster.
“I got here as soon as I could. What’s happened, honey? Are you hurt?”
“No.” Riley clasps Maya’s hands in her own. “I’m fine. It’s a little stupid, really.”
Maya squeezes her fingers. “It’s not stupid if it makes you upset, Riles.”
“It really kind of is.” She gnaws on her bottom lip for a moment, as if she’s second-guessing herself, debating whether to reveal her woes to Maya after all. “My grandparents came for dinner tonight, and, well, my parents like to get political with them. They, uh, they said -” She stops, and it looks as if she’s about to start crying again. It doesn’t take a genius to work out what specific topic of conversation has been shared over the Matthews’ dinner table.
It’s a look that breaks Maya’s heart into a million pieces.
“Oh, sweetie.” She draws her into her arms; Riley nuzzles her face into the crook of her neck, and Maya presses kisses to the top of her head. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not fair,” Riley murmurs, barely above a shaky whisper, and Maya can feel drops of moisture tricking down her neck.
“I know.” Maya wipes her stained cheeks with the pad of her thumb, and Riley leans back so she can rest her head into the palm of her hand. “Honey, I know.”
“I wish the world was just you and me, peaches.”
“Then it is.”
Maya holds Riley’s soft brown gaze for a long moment before she guides her face towards hers; she leans up on her tiptoes a little to kiss her, and Riley clutches at her like Maya is the air she breathes. Being that important to someone like Riley Matthews is something Maya would consider her greatest personal achievement.
“Riley?”
There’s a shout from directly above them. Maya throws herself away from Riley, breaking the kiss so sharply that they both stumble a little, ducking into the shadows as her girl cranes her neck to look up at the bay window.
“Mom?”
The window creaks as it opens wider; the woman’s voice is louder now, a lick of disapproval in her voice. “What are you doing down there, sweetie? We talked about this, you climbing down the fire escape.”
“Just getting some fresh air.” The lie falls off her tongue so easily; Maya, in that moment, hates how easily this lying thing has become. “Sorry I made you worry, Mom. I’ll come back up now.”
“Watch your step.”
“I will.” Riley risks an apologetic glance at Maya as a form of goodbye. Maya just nods.
She gets it. She just wishes there was something she could do about it.
//
Maya knows that Riley is worrying about being caught - so perhaps showing up at her house and climbing through her window with a makeshift picnic basket, in an attempt to be as romantic and sappy as Riley deserves, isn’t exactly the wisest decision she’s ever made.
“I’m sorry,” she says for the third time, when the crease in her girlfriend’s brow still hasn’t relaxed, even with the promise of fresh cupcakes that Maya has worked her ass off to afford. “I just - I know you’ve had a rough time recently, and I wanted to do something to make you feel better. Guess I didn’t think this one through, huh?”
“No, it’s okay.” Riley lets out a sigh, and then moves to sit beside Maya in the bay window, a ghost of a smile on her face; it’s a nice change from the frantic pacing she’s been doing for the past ten minutes. “I’m sorry. I’m just being paranoid, as usual. I love it, peaches, I really do.”
Maya is yet to be convinced. She can tell how tense she still is. “Really?”
“Yes.” Riley leans over to press a soft kiss to her lips, before leaning over in the opposite direction to the turntable that sits patiently beside her spot at the bay window. Singin’ In The Rain fills the airs a few moments later.
“I can’t believe you listen to Gene Kelly,” Maya says, teasing her with a smile.
“Everyone listens to Gene Kelly!”
“Nonsense. Where is your Elvis collection?”
“My dad forbade him from being in the house, remember?” Riley reminds her, and they share a chuckle at the mental image of a scandalised Cory Matthews trying to remove every trace of that ungodly Presley man from his home.
“Ah, well. I guess we’ll just have to make-do.” Maya grins at her. “Come on, Riles!” She grabs her hands, pulling her to her feet and sending her spinning, her purple skirt getting tangled up with Maya’s jeans. Riley giggles, and the sound is even more melodic than Gene Kelly’s voice.
The record flips a few moments later, switching to another song. Maya smiles at the familiar timbre of Paul Anka, and wraps her arms around her girl even tighter until they’re practically hugging, swaying in time to the melody.
“Put your head on my shoulder,” she croons, trying to impersonate the deep tone, and Riley chuckles, the puffs of her breath warm on Maya’s neck. “Hold me in your arms, baby…”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“But you love me for it.”
“Yeah,” Riley says, and her voice is soft as she gazes at Maya like Maya hung the moon; if this moment were a movie, she thinks, the music would swell, and Maya Hart would get to kiss her girl as the credits rolled and the screen faded to black.
There’s a knock on the door.
Maya barely has time to react before she’s shoved in the direction of Riley’s closet and the doors are pulled shut, just as Riley’s bedroom door opens.
“Dad?”
“Hey, honey. Your mom’s asking if you can turn the music down. She’s trying to get Auggie off to bed.”
“Okay. Sorry.”
“No need to apologise for a good taste in music,” Mr Matthews replies, and Riley chuckles. Through the small gap in the closet door, Maya can see him pull her into a warm embrace. “Having a dance party up here by yourself, huh?”
Riley’s shoulders stiffen. Maya can hear the slight wobble in her cheerful tone. “Yeah. Just me.”
Mr Matthews kisses her forehead. “Alright. Well, have fun, honey.”
Maya waits until his echoing footsteps have faded before she pokes her head out of the closet.
“Close one, huh?” She says as she flops back into her usual seat at the bay window, but Riley doesn’t smile along with her. She’s simply staring at the door, gaze unfocused and unseeing. “Sweetie? You okay?”
Riley exhales like holding her breath is the heaviest burden she’s ever had to carry. “I can’t do this.”
It’s almost like someone has just swiped the floor out from underneath her. “What?”
“This, Maya. I can’t do it.” Finally, Riley moves to sit beside her, but Maya’s too busy trying to fight off the churning in her stomach to count this as any kind of victory. “We can’t keep doing this.”
“Riles -”
“We have to be realistic about this, Maya. My parents have almost caught us twice.”
“So what if they did?” Maya says, and Riley’s eyes widen in unrestrained panic. “Why does that matter? Why does it matter what anyone else thinks, Riles? I love you. Why can’t that be enough?”
“Because it isn’t!” Maya flinches at the sudden hysteria in her voice. “I love you too, Maya, but we can’t carry on like this. I don’t want to keep stealing kisses under fire escapes and in dark corners, or be afraid to stand too close to you in public in case someone catches on! I mean, just look: you got fired because of me!”
“Not because of you!” Maya tries to reach for her, but now it’s Riley turn to flinch away, and her arms fall limply by her sides again. “Honey, never think it was because of you! It was because of some snitch who couldn’t mind their own business!”
“Exactly! How long is it going to be until someone else says something? What if they don’t come and confront you about it? What if they take it straight to the police? What will you do then?” Maya doesn’t answer; truth be told, she hasn’t really thought about it, nor does she want to. “See, you can’t answer me. I don’t want you to go to prison, Maya.”
“I don’t care. It’ll be worth it to be with you.”
Riley looks like Maya has just taken her heart and stomped on it in front of her.
“Don’t say that.” Her voice is almost a whisper. “Don’t throw your life away, Maya. I want you to be happy. Why can’t that be enough?”
“Because it isn’t,” Maya snaps, and Riley opens her mouth to answer, but she’s too busy climbing out of the window and out into the cold October night.
//
Later, Maya smokes her way through half a packet of the cigarettes she tried so desperately to cut down on, leaning out of her window and into the darkness, watching the smoke trail away from her in the air.
Hope, she thinks, is for suckers.
//
I’m here to see Maya Hart booms through the diner, and Maya doesn’t think she’s ever been more terrified in her life.
Topanga Matthews is one formidable lady.
Still, she’s got to do her job, so she leads her to a booth towards the back of the diner, gesturing for her to take a seat. “Can I help you with something, Mrs Matthews?”
Topanga simply sits for a moment, quiet, deliberating, before she motions for Maya to sit opposite her.
“Riley told me everything.”
Well, good thing she’s sitting down; Maya’s knees might have buckled otherwise. Oh, god, she owes Riley the biggest apology ever - she can feel that panic now, the one her girlfriend (ex girlfriend) must have felt, dizzying and consuming.
“She did?”
“Not particularly willingly.” Topanga drums her nails on the table, seemingly in time to the racing of Maya’s heart. “She kept quiet until I think she couldn’t anymore. I found her crying in her room, and it all came out pretty soon after that.”
“So -” Maya swallows “- what now? Are you here to tell me you’re calling the cops? Are you here to get me fired? Again?”
That makes Topanga raise one of her perfect eyebrows. “Again?”
“Yeah. I, uh, I got fired from my last job because someone told my boss about - you know.”
Topanga just watches her for a moment, and then her voice softens. “I’m not here to get you fired, Miss Hart.”
“Then you’re here to tell me to stay away from Riley.”
“In a perfect world, perhaps. However, I don’t think anything I say would stop the two of you if you’re determined to see each other.”
“Well, ma'am, you don’t have to worry about that.” Maya can’t help the bitterness that leaks into her tone. “Riley doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore.”
“Now I think we both know that’s not true.”
Maya lifts her gaze from the table. “Why would you even tell me this, anyway? If you didn’t say anything, you could have this perfect world of yours and Riley would meet someone else that would be able to treat her properly, like she deserves.”
Topanga simply smiles, but it doesn’t do much to reassure her. Even smiling, the woman is a scary presence, and god help anyone that forgets that.
“My perfect world is my children being happy. People say what they say, but, above all else, I love my daughter, Miss Hart.”
“I know you do.” Maya lowers her voice, just in case anyone else overhears. “I think I do too.”
“Well, then. I think I’ve said everything I need to say, don’t you?” Topanga rises gracefully from her seat, and turns to leave, before glancing over her shoulder. “Oh, one more thing. Please tell my daughter to be careful when she’s climbing down the fire escape.”
Maya feels her lip curl into a half smile, despite herself. “I’ll pass the message on, ma'am.”
//
Maya is climbing up the fire escape of the Matthews’ apartment building when Riley’s face suddenly appears at her bay window.
“I still love you!” Maya blurts out, at the same time as Riley’s own greeting.
“I’m so, so, so sorry, Peaches!”
“What are you sorry for? I’m the one that should be sorry.” Maya leans on the window frame to support her weight. “You were right, Riles. I shouldn’t have tried to push you into something you weren’t comfortable with. I don’t want you to miss out on everything you could have with a guy just to settle for me.”
“No, Maya, you were right. To hell with what people say. I listened to them, and it only made me miserable. I love you, and it’s more than enough. To settle -” Riley rolls her eyes at the word, to prove how ridiculous she seems to think this concept is; Maya has never loved her more “- for you would be the best decision I could ever make.”
“Riles?”
“Peaches?”
“As romantic as this is, I don’t want to risk falling off your fire escape because I’m trying to kiss you through the window.”
Riley’s grin widens as she pushes the window further open; Maya climbs through the window and straight into her arms.
//
Mr and Mrs Matthews stop by the garage two days later, seeking information about a Honda electric scooter, in an almost alarming shade of purple, that they want to gift their daughter for her nineteenth birthday.
(They both, Maya notes, look a little reluctant to actually give her this gift, which she can understand. Riley is taller than the average for her age, and her long legs make her girlfriend a little klutzy at times.)
To the sound of Mr Matthews’ insistent questions of but are you absolutely sure that it’s safe?, Topanga meets her gaze over the top of Zay’s head and smiles at her, ever so slightly.
Maybe, Maya thinks, hope isn’t for suckers after all.