#we need to see jealous maya! it’ll be so fun to watch | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

harryandmolly · 5 years

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Change of Pace - 18 (Summer 2019)

cowritten by @achinglyshawn

summary: Shawn and Maya meet again 10 years after life got in the way of love

warnings: language

wc: 12k

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“—acting on your best behavior, turn your back on Mother Nature—“

Shawn is 20 minutes early to pick Maya up.

“—wants to rule the world.”

He’s parked a block away, humming to Tears For Fears as his fingers tap anxiously across his jean-clad thighs.

He couldn’t sit still at home. He closed the shop early so he could comb through his closet that he’s suddenly worried is too poor-artist-chic (read: covered in paint) for the new Maya.

Not that he thinks she really cares about anything like that, but he’s seen her clothes. They’re way fancier now. He’s almost jealous.

He’s always had a thing for nice clothes and fashion. He’s just never had enough extra money to spend on those things. He always spent whatever profit he made on instruments to refurbish and materials for new models and other toys for his shop.

He thinks, maybe, he needs more hobbies. And he needs to start traveling.

He’s a bit intimidated as thinks of all the things Maya’s seen and done and the places she’s been. He’s lived a life shacked up in his workshop. He’s sheltered compared to her.

They both used to be sheltered before. Now he feels miles behind her.

Finally fed up with what he’d considered meager offerings from his own closet, Shawn decided to borrow a clean, plain black t-shirt from Geoff. Then he tugged on the new pair of deep blue skinnies Maya bought him the other week and tried not to feel weird about it.

Now he sits in his Jeep and listens to music, his light denim jacket hugging his biceps the way she says she likes, and he’s hoping it’s enough to impress her while still looking, like, chill enough for go-karting.

He’s probably overthinking it.

The alarm on his phone finally goes off.

7:04 pm. Perfect.

Shawn turns up Celebrity Skin by Hole and cranks the engine of his aging Jeep. He drives cautiously around the block, just to kill at least another few minutes, then finally parks in front of Maya’s cottage. He contemplated hooking into the alley to park in her garage like he had all summer, but tonight is different.

She’s offering a fresh start for them, if he wants it. He’s not going to fuck it up before it even gets going.

Maya fidgets, poking at an errant splotch of nail polish that made it out to her cuticle from when she painted them earlier. She’s been trying to distract herself all day from their date. Surfing, painting, drawing. She ate ravenously around 5:30, feeling like a grandma. But she wanted plenty of time to get ready.

How do you dress for a first date with the love of your life?

Go-karting is inherently casual, which is in a way harder to dress for. Casual summer feels skimpy to her and she doesn’t want to look like she’s expecting to get laid tonight. Because they’re Not Doing That. Slow and steady.

So she wants to show some skin but not so much that she’s irresistible just… distracting. After a long debate, she chooses a pair of cigarette-thin white capris and a turquoise tank that makes her tan glow. Even with that and the light makeup and hair, Maya is ready outrageously early. She curses herself for it because now she has more time to sit and stew.

What if go-karting is a bad idea? I mean, they’re trying to be grown ups. Maybe this is the wrong move? No, no it’s fine, it’s supposed to be low key and fun. What if they stumble over talking to each other all night? What if they don’t know how to be grown ups?

Maya rolls her eyes at herself and flops back on the bed just in time to hear his Jeep crackle over her gravel driveway. She flings herself upright, fixes her hair and scurries down the stairs, quieting her steps so he doesn’t hear how eager she sounds.

He climbs the stairs to her porch two at a time, trying to get the nervous energy out any way he can before he sees her. He hums. Rocks on his toes, then his heels. Checks his phone. 7:10. A little too on the nose. He takes a breath. 7:11. Good enough.

He knocks.

She opens the door with a glowing smile, deciding it’s not too much to look happy to see him.

“Hey,” she says breathlessly, “You look… so great.”

She ducks her head a little, blushing like a teenager.

He’s a little busy staring at her to reply immediately; he looks at her as if he doesn’t already know how beautiful she is. It feels like he doesn’t. Everything feels new, tonight, somehow. New, but also better.

Shawn finally snaps to.

“You look way out of my league,” he says with a laugh, puffing his chest slightly as he tries to pretend his cheeks aren’t turning red.

Maya chooses to ignore his comment and decides to focus on the seeping blush in his cheeks because it looks so very good on him.

“Oh,” his brows raise, and then he shoves his hand into his pocket, fishing out the wine red and navy woven friendship bracelet he hid there earlier. He always meant to give it to her. He hadn’t finished it before she left.

It feels a little silly now. A near 40-year-old man dangling something he made as a kid from his fingers like she’ll think it’s as special as he does.

He wants her to have it, anyway. Even if she thinks it’s silly and throws it away.

“I, uh, I found this. A few weeks ago, like, buried in an old college bag I was digging through. I didn’t-- I mean, it wasn’t finished so I finished it and I thought you might like it. But now I’m thinking that I probably should’ve gone with daisies.”

She watches curiously as he digs through his pocket and produces a present. She recognizes the thread, remembers that he used to spend hours on the beach while she surfed tying bracelets together. It was good for his fidgety fingers when he didn’t have his guitar.

Maya shrugs and feels a flush in her own cheeks that she knows she can’t fight. “Daisies die. This will last longer,” She holds her wrist out with a smile, “Would you tie it on for me, please?”

Shawn’s lips spread in a pleased smile. She wants to wear it. It seems like a stupid thing to be happy over but. He can’t help it.

It feels special. Little victories, right?

“Oh, yeah, totally. C’mere,” he murmurs, corner of his mouth quirked. He cups the back of her hand to bring her wrist closer, then loops the thin bracelet around her, tying the frayed ends together tightly enough so it won’t fall off, but with enough room for her skin to breathe.

Maya likes the bracelet very much. It’s like a portable version of her painting of them as kids at the Avila house -- a reminder of who they were and what they can become if they hold on.

Shawn smiles at her when he’s finished, stepping aside so she has room to close the door and lock up behind her. As she navigates her keys into her bag, Shawn tilts his head. “Still okay with go-karting?”

“Completely. And I thought maybe we’d get ice cream after.”

A little impulsively, because she thinks it’ll help take the edge off for both of them, she leans in and pecks his cheek quickly.

Shawn turns scarlet. Her lips on his cheek burn in the sweetest way. He grins at her, slow and coy, as she drops away from him. He catches her wrist as she goes, slipping his hand into hers, fingers intertwined.

“I like ice cream,” he murmurs, then tugs her along, guiding her down the stairs and to his Jeep. He helps her inside and definitely does not let his gaze linger on the curve of her ass as she climbs onto her seat.

Shawn closes the door once she’s settled then jogs around to the driver’s side.

She didn’t have to worry for very long whether the cheek kiss was a good idea. The heat rushes to his face fast and furious. He takes her hand in his own gesture of closeness and helps her into his car like a gentleman.

He smiles at Maya as he slips into the car. He revs the Jeep to life, Courtney Love once again rasping through the speakers. Hooking an arm around the neck of the passenger’s seat, Shawn backs down the driveway and into the street. Then they’re off, driving along the beach towards the go-kart track.

“So,” Shawn starts, trying to sound far more casual than he feels, “How was your day?”

Maya smiles at his music choice and makes a mental note to ask him about it later. It’s a good, easy step into their deep pool of getting to know each other again.

She looks back at him from the singing white sand of the beach. She stifles a goofy grin at his question because it feels so very first date-y and she likes it. She likes the effort they’re both putting in tonight.

“Uhm… it was good. I got out to the beach early, the surf forecast looked great. I got my longboard out there for a couple hours. I stayed and swam around with a snorkel for awhile too, I found some cool fish that were kind of silver, I tried to google them to figure out what they were…”

Maya rambles. He likes it. He could listen to her ramble all day, about anything. He loves her voice, has always found it soothing. He smiles as he listens.

She hears herself stalling. She cuts to the chase.

“And I spent all afternoon in my studio working on a new piece. It’s almost finished.”

“Oh yeah?” She hasn’t really mentioned her art to him all summer. He doesn’t feel like he knows Maya the artist at all anymore, save for the thimble on his back. He hopes she hasn’t changed her mind about letting him get it inked into his skin.

“Do-- I mean, can you tell me about it? You don’t have to, but, you know. I like knowing about your art.”

Shawn glances at her, his lips pressed together as he watches her watch the beach. He gets his eyes back to the road before she can catch him.

Maya feels the difference. This is the kind of question she would’ve dodged all summer. As close as he got, as close as she wanted him, she could never let him in this far. But after their showdown last week, it feels different now. It feels better.

“I started it last week after… uhm, after we fought. I had this image in my head that I couldn’t really get away from so I thought getting it out in paint would help. It’s… it’s a memory, I guess, of you and me and our last night in Avila. We’re on the daybed watching the sunset on the deck. To me, it’s a reminder. That we’re not kids anymore. That we can be more than that now if… we want.”

She looks over from her window to smile at him. “But I’m painting it to look like a photo so all the detail, y’know, it takes a while to get it perfect. I’ve been smelling like turpentine for days.”

“Oh,” he chokes, like an idiot. Shawn wasn’t expecting all of that. He’s not sure what he imagined her painting this summer, but he never let himself think it had anything to do with him.

He feels the flush creep up the back of his neck again.

“That sounds really cool, Maya. I think, you know, I’d like to see it some time. When it’s finished or whenever.” He pulls up to a stoplight, leans his head back against his seat and looks over at her. He smiles. “But only if you’re okay with that.”

He knows, almost better than anyone, that art can be personal. It’s why he doesn’t play his music anymore. It digs too deep and he doesn’t know how to share that with people, except for the occasional lyric or two with his therapist, or a song here and there with Geoff.

It’s hard, baring your soul for people to critique. He doesn’t want to push a boundary by asking to see hers too soon.

Maya is surprised by how much she wants him to see it once he offers his interest. All summer she’s painted. She’s illustrated loud, catastrophic shapes without definition or meaning and none of it has felt like her at all. She never painted that way before. Now that she’s creating her own way again, she finds she really does want to share it with him. She doesn’t want to hide.

“I’d love to show it to you. I only need a couple more hours with it I think before it’s officially time to leave it the hell alone.”

Maybe after they’ve spent some more time together, this slow, pressure-free, easy time, maybe he’ll let her draw or paint him again. She hasn’t sketched him since she came back to Avila. She looks over at him while he pulls into the parking lot and looks critically at the planes and angles of his face, imagining him in charcoal or fine graphite pencil. He’d be beautiful.

Shawn can feel Maya looking at him. He tries not to blush. He feels her gaze on him the way he used to back in college, when she would think about which angles of his she most wanted to draw. Which were dramatic, or soft, or romantic, or somber.

She used to go on about it, but now, if she’s thinking it, she doesn’t share. Just watches him as he navigates the parking lot, then slides into a spot with enough room on either side for them to get out.

He kills the engine. Turns to look at her with a careful smirk tugging his lips.

“Hi,” he starts. “Finished staring at me?”

He calls her out with that smirk she loves. She beams at him. “I’ll let you know.”

She lets herself out of the Jeep and links her fingers with his again while they head toward the go-kart track. It’s outdoors, so they can hear the engines and smell the gas. It makes Maya chuckle.

“I haven’t done this in… god, I have no idea, actually. It’s definitely safe, right?”

She’s not too worried, it’s a family friendly joint and they have helmets and stuff. Maybe it’s her residual first date nerves that have her keyed up.

Shawn grins, turning on his heel to walk backwards as he squeezes her hand reassuringly.

“C’mon Lemon. It’s obviously super safe. And I’m pretty sure they got brand new carts like 6 months ago.”

He gives her a wink then turns back around, navigating his arm over her shoulders while keeping their fingers linked.

He calls her ‘Lemon’ again and it makes her light up from the inside out. She wants to spin around in circles and squeal like a teenager who just got asked to prom. Instead she shivers at his wink and lets him cuddle up to her. He smells great, just like he always does. She puts her arm around his waist and enjoys the way a middle aged mom looks at them while she waits for her husband and sons to wrap around the track.

There are a few people in line at the little kiosk outside, so as they wait, Shawn pulls out his wallet and holds onto it. He doesn’t want her getting any funny ideas.

He’s been planning to splurge on the all-access wristbands that let them do as many laps as they want and play as many arcade games as they want. So, endless air hockey, if that’s what Maya wants. `

His wallet dangles casually from his fingers, but in her line of sight. Just so she’ll get the hint. He squeezes her hand again.

Shawn is up front with the wallet and she appreciates it. She would’ve of course offered to at least split it but he sends the signal loud and clear and it’s sweet and boyishly romantic. She squeezes his fingers right back.

He springs for the good wristbands and she cracks a joke about him basically paying to have his ass kicked repeatedly at air hockey. They get to pick helmets and she picks a pink one.

“So this isn’t like bumper cars, right? I don’t get to smash into people if they’re in my way?”

Shawn barks out a laugh. What he would give to watch Maya chase people down on the track. He shakes his head as they head for the cars.

“I think you should try it and see what happens, eh?”

She giggles. “I don’t want to get us kicked out of this place before the date even really starts.”

But she knows as well as he that she gets carried away with her competitive drive sometimes. So who knows.

Shawn slips his lime green helmet on his head and clicks the strap beneath his chin. There’s another line to wait in, set up between metal bars that lead to a row of karts. Shawn flips around and leans against one bar, fingers curling around the metal as he smirks down at Maya.

“Air hockey might be your game, but I’m about to kick your ass at mine.” Shawn reaches from the bar for her wrist, pulling her closer to him in line.

“Can you ever forgive me?”

Maya follows suit and slips on her neon pink helmet. The strip digs in under her chin but he distracts her easily by tempting her with a challenge.

She closes her eyes and sighs as he pulls her in. She plants a hand next to where he leans against the rail and tilts toward him conspiratorially.

“You’re awful confident for a 35-year-old going go-karting.”

She smirks triumphantly.

Shawn shrugs, grinning and looking down at his old chucks. He glances up at her without lifting his head.

“Maybe there’s an Avila go-kart league. You don’t know.”

Maya snorts and pictures it, Shawn, and surely Geoff because where Shawn goes, Geoff goes, even to this day -- the two of them bouncing around a go-kart track, chasing each other around like children, having a blast, one-upping each other whenever possible.

He grins, then straightens up, sliding down the bar as the line moves along. They’re near the front, but the line stops again as all the karts are on the track. Shawn sighs and pushes himself off of the bar.

He slips behind Maya and drapes his arms over her shoulders. He presses his chin to the top of her pink helmet.

“Wake me up when it’s our turn, Lu.”

Maya keeps her silly grin in check as he drapes himself comfortably over her. She feels dainty. It’s kinda nice. As the line moves, she shuffles forward, pulling him along.

She places her hands over his wrists and rubs his forearms where she knows he gets sore from detailing instruments all day. She hums from the back of her throat curiously.

“Why are you so tired, hun?”

Shawn sighs, shuffling along behind her.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says, flipping one hand over so he can catch her fingers in his. He tugs at her gently. “Too nervous thinking about my date with this really incredible woman. I dunno if you know her.”

She could tell he was nervous, too. Hearing him admit it is kinda sweet, though. She imagines him rolling over in his bed, rumpling the sheets, heaving a sigh because he can’t decide if he wants to wear a blue shirt or a white shirt. It makes her smile so big her face hurts.

His fingers are thick and warm between hers. She massages them gently and lets herself bask in it a little.

“Bet she was nervous too,” she murmurs.

Eventually, Shawn has to untangle himself from around Maya as they’re ushered out of the bars and towards the line of now unoccupied go-karts. He keeps their fingers linked until the last moment, only dropping her to climb into his kart.

He buckles in, looking over as he watches Maya crawl into her own kart.

“What do I get when I win?” he calls to her, grinning wide.

The karts are bigger than she pictured but still small enough that watching Shawn crawl into one makes her laugh. As the engines rev, he gets cocky.

Maya drapes her fingers over her steering wheel and steps past the dozen or so dirty jokes she’d make right now if it were a week or two ago. She smiles falsely.

“There are prizes in the gum ball machine out front, cowboy. Or were you thinking of something else?”

Shawn can’t stop grinning. Maya never misses an opportunity to tease him. He likes it. He likes that she keeps him on his toes.

“I was thinking you could buy my ice cream. And let me get extra toppings.”

He winks at her, can’t help it, can’t feel anything but excited, nervous jitters right now that have his cheeks hurting from all the smiling.

Maya tips her head back and laughs, feeling the adrenaline start to surge.

“Any topping you want,” she promises. When she gets like this, she’s hard to beat at anything. She’ll have fun watching him try.

Over the speaker, a man announces 30 seconds until the green light. Shawn shifts in his seat, settling a bit lower and curling his fingers around the steering wheel. He revs the engine, still blocked in behind the gates that have yet to drop.

He wonders, for a moment, if letting Maya win is the polite thing to do. But Shawn knows she’ll give him so much shit if he does that. She only likes winning if it’s a fair game. He looks over to her, seated in her kart with her hands draped casually over the wheel.

He smiles. The countdown continues.

Shawn settles in and she thinks it’s completely ridiculous how sexy he looks revving up a go-kart. It sets off a flurry of excitement that she knows is only egged on by her need to win.

She tightens her fingers around the wheel when the countdown hits the five second mark. When it hits 0, “GO!” flashes big and bright on the screen over the track. Maya’s reflexes are better, probably honed by surfing, and she gets off the blocks first.

The kart is bulky and difficult to manage, probably to keep people from going too fast or getting too dangerous. She gets distracted trying to turn around the first corner. Shawn gets the inside edge.

Maya swears under her breath and careens around the turn behind him, swerving around a middle schooler who’s not strong enough to turn the wheel quickly. She stomps on the gas around the second turn and comes up on the outside, but he holds her off.

The remaining thirty seconds of the race have Shawn holding steady in first place. He wins pretty handily. As they pull back into the start gate, Maya huffs.

“How do you turn this thing so easily? What are you, the hulk?!”

He knew he would win, if only because he and Geoff do this like, more often than they probably should as grown-ass adults. It’s a beach town thing, though. The go-karting league is totally real, too, and something he’s pretty good at.

They’ve got unlimited access to the track with their wrist bands, so they get to sit and wait for the next round while others climb out of their karts and new drivers pile in. Shawn grins, leaning back in his seat and draping his arm over the steering wheel as he shrugs.

“Not my fault you skimp on arm day, Lemon.”

They watch as the new drivers get settled into their karts, and the announcer makes another 30 second warning.

“C’mon baby,” he says, glancing over her as the countdown nears 5, “Don’t go so easy on me.”

He winks, and the lights on the screen above the track flash from red to yellow to green, then ‘GO!’ and with that, they’re off.

Maya makes it off the block before him again, but he’s got the first turn clinched. The steering wheel isn’t so much heavy as it is bulky and awkward, and he knows that’s what Maya struggles with as he zooms past her on the inside of the track.

Three laps later and he zooms past the finish line and pulls into the gate about 3 seconds before she does. He settles back into his kart with a smile.

“I think that was better than last time,” he laughs.

By the time they’re pulling back into the start gate, Maya’s ears are still ringing from him calling her “baby,” even just teasingly. It feels like a year since he’s called her that. She decides to quietly blame that for her bad second race.

She pouts and slaps the steering wheel when they pull back into the gate. “You are way too good at this. We need to get you out more if this is how you and Geoff are spending your Friday nights.”

She smirks because she’s kidding but also because she wants to be the one he spends his Friday nights with. Hopefully not go-karting because she totally sucks at it.

Shawn laughs, clicking open the hook of his helmet strap.

“No, no. Fridays are usually karaoke at the Sandtrap. Saturday is for go-karting. Plus, you just don’t like losing.”

He grins, wide and crooked at her, then plucks his helmet from his head and unfurls himself from the kart. He meanders to her kart, tucking the helmet beneath his arm and holding out a hand for her.

Maya sighs and lets her hands fall to her thighs. “Air hockey or ice cream next?”

“I guess I could let you kick my ass in air hockey. Make you feel better about sucking at go-karts.”

Maya tilts her head back and sighs pathetically, putting on a playful show. She lifts her hand weakly into his and lets him help her out of the kart. With one hand in his, she maneuvers out of the helmet and starts pulling him toward the arcade with a spark in her eyes.

“Let me or don’t let me, I’ll kick your cute little ass anyway, Mendes,” she teases.

Shawn laughs, shaking his head and squeezing her hand gently.

He waits until they’ve given back their helmets to taunt, “You think my ass is cute,” in a lilting, sing-song tone.

Maya giggles. “Your ass is adorable and you know it.”

She stops short of smacking it. But she thinks about it.

They head into the arcade and find that one of the two air hockey tables is free. Maya goes for the red paddle before he can argue. She squares up at one end of the table, patting her paddle on the table, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Any last words, babe?”

Shawn’s left with the blue paddle, but he knew he would be. They both love red, but Maya, the reigning champ, gets whatever she wants. He swipes his paddle and glides it in a large circle over the table.

“Just get the puck and show me what I’ve been missing, Lemon,” he urges with a smirk.

Maya hunches over the table and puts the puck in place, looking back at him with a mischievous grin when she flips the switch that turns on the air. The table whirs to life and the puck starts skimming around, sliding every which way the air blows it. Maya strikes first, shooting the puck across to him. He bounces it back, but Maya has it on the backstroke and slams it into his goal quickly.

“Your grip’s too tight,” she advises with a wizened nod, “Don’t choke down on the paddle.”

She’s good. Faster than he is getting to the puck. He thinks he’s too tall for this game, because he can’t hunch over the way she does to get nice and close to the table.

“Hey,” he grouses, reaching down for the puck in the slot. He twirls it between his fingers. “I didn’t trash your go-kart technique.”

He drops the puck on the table and clamps it down with his paddle. He glances up at her, then back down to his paddle.

Deep breath in, and then. He raises his paddle, releases the puck, and sends it flying towards Maya.

(He takes her tip about his paddle grip. It’s a pretty good one.)

His next shot sails into Maya’s goal before she can fling it back toward him. She smirks.

“Maybe the student’s becoming the master.”

She fishes the puck back out and repositions it. She and Shawn volley back and forth until he loses some focus and she swings another shot past him. She cracks her neck back and forth theatrically.

“Mmk, I’m all loosened up now. You’re not getting another shot past me.”

“Your confidence is truly inspiring, Lemon,” he answers with a smirk as he pulls the puck out from his slot.

He takes another shot.

Maya wins. He knew she would. He keeps up, mostly, scoring on her after she scores on him, but she always manages to stay a few points ahead. When she scores the winning goal, Shawn huffs and slides his blue paddle away, into the middle of the table where it floats around on it’s own, the air carrying one way then the other.

“Why do I even try?” he laments, pressing his palms into the edge of the table as he hangs his head.

Shawn looks back up at her after a moment, smirking a little. He tilts his head. “Will you give me a chance to win my dignity back? I can play a round of skee ball and get you that stuffed lion.”

She loves that she can still beat him in air hockey. The universe feels right and balanced. It’s cute the way he loses, though. He gets grumpy but not mean.

Maya strolls over to his side of the table and fishes one of his hands away from it, slipping her fingers between his to comfort him.

“By all means, please. I don’t think I have a lion from the safari you won me 15 years ago. My collection is sorely lacking,” she teases.

“Well,” Shawn hums, smiling down at her as he slides his thumb across her knuckles, “No animal kingdom is complete without its Lion King.”

She tugs him away from the table toward the row of skee ball setups, considering what she could beat him at next. Probably pinball. She’s always been so good at pinball.

He follows her to skee ball, holds his wristband over the scanner on one of the games that then shoots out a shiny white ball. He picks up the ball, spins it in his fingers and drops Maya’s hand.

“All right, honey,” he purrs, rolling the ball between his palms, “Get ready to be amazed. I’m even better at this than I am at go-karting.”

It’s probably not the sexiest thing to admit, but he’s always been good at skee ball. Long arms and all. Plus he’s got pretty good aim. God, he feels like he’s in high school, trying to impress the girl he likes by winning her prizes. It’s mostly a joke, but Shawn’s sure there will always be a part of him that wants desperately to impress Maya.

No matter how slow this relationship goes, that won’t change.

Shawn tosses the ball in the air once, catches it, then glides it along the smooth slope of the skee ball machine, where it flies over the ledge and pops up towards the corner. He holds his breath, and then the flashing lights go off as the ball drops into the hole that reads ‘100!’

“See,” he says with a grin, reaching for the next white ball the machine spits out. “Lion’ll be your before you know it.”

Maya stands back to watch as he starts racking up points. She crosses her arms over her chest and bites down on a stupid smile. He’s right, he’s excellent at this. And he’s a lot of fun to watch. His eyes are all focused until they light up just like the game in front of him.

“At this rate, you’re gonna win the whole jungle,” she laughs, shaking her head as she watches the point count on the board go higher and higher.

She props herself up against the wall. “Can I ask you something?” She decides not to wait to ask her question. “What made you come back to Avila after LA?”

He tosses the last ball just as she makes his heart stop with her inquiry. He wasn’t expecting it, like, at all.

The ball pops into the 50 point hole, and then it’s game over. Tickets start streaming out of the little slot at the bottom of the machine.

Shawn swallows and turns to face Maya, slipping his hands into his pockets. He rocks back on his heels and shrugs.

“Do you think I could-- I dunno. Could we get ice cream first?”

It sounds like a cop out, but he doesn’t think this is something he wants to talk about while waiting for the skee ball machine to finish spitting out their tickets.

Maya seals her lips together. He goes a little tense at her question and almost misses his shot. She swallows, hoping this isn’t too much too soon. She just… she wants to get to know him again.

Maya nods sheepishly and helps him fish his enormous bundle of tickets off the floor. They stack them in Shawn’s fist and start heading toward the prize counter.

Maya plays with her fingers as they walk in silence. It’s grating.

“I… sorry. I mean, you don’t have to talk about this. I don’t want to pressure you. I understand it might be hard to talk about.”

Shawn frowns. She doesn’t need to apologize. And he doesn’t not want to talk to her about it. When it was happening, she was the only person he wanted to talk to at all. He’s not sure why he hadn’t thought to tell her about it sooner, other than that he was subconsciously trying to pretend like their time apart never happened.

He can’t pretend anymore. He wants Maya to know everything about him, just like she used to.

“Hey, no,” he says when they reach the counter. He presses the tickets into the glass as they wait for the clerk to finish helping a gaggle of teen girls. “I want to talk about it. Just. Not while juggling all of these tickets.”

He gives her a crooked smile and reaches for her hand, now that his are free.

Shawn does a very effective job of making her feel less awkward about the question. His voice is warm and soft and he takes her hand comfortingly.

She loves holding his hand. It’s such a simple pleasure, but she found herself missing it in their many years apart, when she let herself think about him. She wraps her other hand around his so it’s sandwiched between both of hers.

“I can be patient,” she murmurs meaningfully, smiling up at him.

The clerk takes their tickets and Shawn asks him for the egregiously large stuffed lion that sits atop the mountain of prizes. Maya laughs when he hands it over. She tucks it under her arm.

“I don’t know where I’m putting this guy. Maybe he can live in my art studio,” she muses.

Shawn laughs, reaching over to fluff up a matted section of the lion’s mane.

“I think he’ll make a great companion for you there. Like a muse.”

Maya pictures propping her new lion friend up in the corner as a reminder of him. She likes that idea.

As they head toward the ice cream bar, Shawn lifts their linked fingers, bringing Maya’s knuckles to his lips. He brushes a kiss across her skin, another gesture of reassurance.

“Okay, Lu,” he says once they fold into the line, “What’s your poison?”

He looks up at the menu, considering which treat will go best with talking about his terrible time in LA. Probably anything with chocolate.

His lips kiss over her knuckles but the goosebumps spread far and wide. She sidles up next to him, holding his hand and cupping her other hand around his arm as he scans the menu.

“I’m going Classic. Chocolate dipped swirl with strawberry syrup and chocolate jimmies.”

She hasn’t gotten ice cream from a truck like this in so long. She smiles, turning in to press her lips to his shoulder while he decides.

Shawn grins. He likes Maya’s order. She always knew how to indulge. He feels her nudge a kiss into his arm, so he leans over and brushed his lips against the top of her head.

Maya thinks it’s funny how they’ve been kissing all night, just not on the mouth. They’ve never been shy about PDA. She doesn’t think they’re shy now either, but she does think they’re both taking the slow part of their new relationship seriously. And they’ve unspokenly decided too much kissing on the mouth is a bad idea.

She doesn’t mind, actually. Especially because the idea of getting one single, perfect goodnight kiss out of Shawn has her light on her feet.

“That sounds delicious, sugar,” he hums, then looks back to the men. “But I think I’ve gotta go with with Neapolitan swirl. Chocolate dip and rainbow jimmies.”

He wiggles his wallet out of his pocket as they step to the front of the line to order, feigns like he doesn’t remember giving her shit about buying him ice cream for winning at go-karts.

He places both of their orders and pays, leaving a few too many ones in the tip jar. He’s always been a hefty tipper, though. He gets it. He lived off of tips for long enough.

She decides not to fight him on paying, not after that absurd date she dragged him on a couple weeks ago. It’s not that she’s hurting for cash or anything, she just thinks that feeling on equal footing for as long as possible is good for them right now. She does kiss his cheek, though, a fat, wet plant of her lips with a giggle behind it and a “thank you” murmured in his ear.

Shawn’s lip twitch with a hint of smirk when Maya places a messy kiss on the apple of his cheek. He doesn’t get a chance to reciprocate, though, before they’re handed lavish ice cream cones that take a bit of extra effort not to drop.

Shawn guides Maya to one of the small plastic tables set up in front of the truck. He drops her hand so he can pull her seat out for her, a plastic green chair that scrapes obnoxiously on the asphalt beneath it.

She sits in the seat he offers and crosses her legs, taking a first few swipes at her cone to alleviate some dribbling. When they’re settled in, she smiles over at him chasing some jimmies down his hand. She decides to wait for him to launch into the LA thing because she doesn’t want to feel like she’s badgering him.

The lion sits on the table between them as Shawn settles into his cone. A few sprinkles fall from the ice cream and onto his fingers as he takes a bite from the top. “Mmph,” he mumbles as he sucks the colorful jimmies from his skin.

Maya laughs with her ice cream cone next to her mouth as she watches Shawn strategically attack his. She does her best not to slurp at hers but it’s hot and melting quickly.

He looks up at Maya from over the slope of the stuffed lion’s back and realizes she’s waiting for him to talk about LA. He licks a drop of ice cream from his lip and considers where to begin. He hasn’t spoken about this with anyone in like, four years. He’s only ever really discussed it with Leah and his therapist. Geoff was there, so they don’t have to talk about it.

“So, LA, right? I think the problem with LA is that, unless you have a solid game plan and like, people you can really trust, the city will chew you up and spit you out. And I didn’t have those things. I figured, I dunno, I could skate by on talent and sheer passion alone.”

Shawn shrugs, looking away from Maya to lick at the top of his ice cream. He crunches on sprinkles and licks chocolate sauce from the corner of his mouth.

“I never found a band that I really gelled with. Not musically, anyway. Either we disagreed about, like, our musical vision or whatever, or our personalities clashed or they were more obsessed with fame and drugs and hookers than actually like, being musicians.”

She listens intently. He doesn’t sound too broken up about it, helped, she suspects, by many years between then and now. Still, she considers as she watches him affectionately, it was his dream and he let it go.

She ducks her head in disappointment at his assessment of his former bandmates. “That must’ve been so hard. To feel so disconnected from them on something you’ve always wanted.”

She hopes he’s not too disappointed about his trajectory. He seems truly happy with his shop. She hopes he doesn’t have regrets.

Maya sounds sad for him. He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t feel sad about it. Not anymore anyway.

He takes a bite of his ice cream, crunches the jimmies.

“It’s okay. I mean, yeah, it sucked, but it also helped. It was formative, or whatever. And it made me realize that I didn’t really want that life, anyway. If I had really wanted it, I would’ve kept fighting for it. And I probably wouldn’t have done so much coke just to get through the nights.”

He doesn’t know how else to bring it up. That he fucked over his body in a way they both always said they hated and would never do.

It was easier to do it when he was alone and tired and disappointed with his life. He doesn’t ever miss it these days, though.

Maya feels like her heart drops into her stomach to slosh around with some melted ice cream. The vision of him is cold, standing in dirty club bathrooms waiting to go on at 2am with bandmates he doesn’t like, snorting a line off his hand. She closes her eyes.

“God, sweetheart,” she rasps, clearing the tears out of her throat with a shake of her head. They sting as they threaten to fall. She nourishes her sore throat with another bite of cold ice cream before she speaks again.

“Maybe our experiences weren’t so different,” she admits, lowering her gaze as she remembers her late nights spent on the opposite coast buying Adderall from her bro-y coworkers so she could work until 3 or 4am on an all-too-consistent basis.

His heart breaks at the sound of her voice. He didn’t mean to upset her with any of this. But she asked and he doesn’t want to tell her half-truths anymore.

“Lu,” he murmurs. He guesses he should’ve known, should’ve put it together, that being a hardworking business woman in Manhattan meant long days followed by longer nights only survived with the help of a stimulant or two. He hates that she got caught up in it too.

But it’s life, he guesses, and it made them who they are now.

She lifts her eyes to his, unafraid of his judgement, knowing he won’t put it on her. She smiles weakly. “I guess we can’t harp on this kind of stuff. We did what we felt we had to to survive. And we got ourselves out.”

Shawn scoots his chair around the table towards Maya, plastic legs scratching noisily across the asphalt. He turns it to face her, his knees digging into the arm of her chair. Reaching for her free hand with his, he pulls it into his lap and curls their fingers together.

“Hey,” he says with a smile, bringing her fingertips to his cold lips, “I’m glad we’re here now. You know?”

Maya watches with a nearly bursting heart as Shawn pulls himself over to sit closer to her. His lips are soft and cool. She thinks about leaning over to taste them but feels like the moment doesn’t quite call for it. Instead she thumbs at the dimple in his chin and smiles a little wider.

“You have no idea how glad I am that we’re here now,” she replies almost breathlessly.

She thinks he probably does have some idea, especially given how rough his years apart from her are starting to sound. They’ve been through the wringer. They both deserve to relax and take it in a little. The fact that they get to do it together is something Maya never imagined could happen again. She could let herself get swept up in it but wants to keep things fun and maybe a little lighter on this date because first dates are supposed to be fun.

Maya swipes her tongue around her dripping cone and traces her finger against his jaw affectionately. “Would you let me draw you again soon?”

He’s got an overwhelming urge to kiss her, but he resists by licking at his dripping ice cream instead. He’s making himself wait. He wants to deserve it. He wants her to remember the moment crisply, with the same sort of clarity you remember something that truly affected you, a sharp contrast to everything else because of how it changed your life.

Maybe he has romantically high hopes for this kiss.

Some habits die hard.

Shawn’s eyes fall shut as she traces the angle of his jaw. He sucks in a soft breath.

“You can draw me anytime you want, Lemon,” he murmurs, gazing at her from under hooded as his fingers curl around her wrist.

“I always thought I was a pretty good model,” he bites into his cone, giving Maya a crooked smile as he chews.

Maya goes pink. He reacts so well when she touches him, always. She leaves her warm fingers around the side of his neck, stroking gently at his curls. She loves the tiny ones that sit around his ears.

“You’ve always been my favorite model,” she promises, nodding firmly, “I have sketchpads full of proof of that.”

She smiles and bites into her own cone, looking off to reminisce. “I actually have all my old sketchbooks. If you go back far enough in my catalog, you can find the week we met. I think I started drawing you only a couple days after. I wasn’t very good then. I could never get your eyes right.”

He feels himself blushing. He misses the weight of her gaze on him as she sketched. He misses the way she would nudge his face with her fingertips to make sure his features caught the light just right. He misses how her cheeks would turn pink each time she finished a drawing with which she was particularly pleased.

He misses the privilege of admiring her many sketches, of him or otherwise, most of all.

“I always liked the way you did my eyes,” he hums, crunching into more of his cone.

“You made this one less droopy,” he says with a grin, pushing at the corner of his lazy eye. He laughs, “I really was so self-conscious about that back then.”

Maya finally lets him go with a swipe of her fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. She takes another bite of ice cream and giggles with him, catching his fingers from his face to squeeze them in hers.

“I always loved it,” she tells him honestly after swallowing, “When you got tired, you looked like a puppy.”

She thinks of the nights they stayed up pretending to study in between long, languid kisses. They kissed like they had their entire lives to do it. They kissed arrogantly back then, like kids.

Maya takes the final bite, finishing off her cone. She clears her throat and looks over at him. “Don’t look much like a puppy now, though. All grown up.”

She can feel the heat in her face when she says it despite the frozen treat. She’s… hitting on him. It’s kinda funny.

Shawn is busy licking the remains of his ice cream from his fingers when he’s distracted by the raspy tone of her voice. He releases his thumb from his mouth with a wet pop and quirks a brow at her.

“Are you saying I’m not cute anymore?”

He pouts, but he can’t hold it for long and cracks a smile after a moment.

She swallows roughly and shakes out a laugh, then bashfully looks away. He knows how cute he is. He also knows how absolutely heart-stoppingly gorgeous he is. He wears it well, warmly and modestly, but he knows it’s there. He wears the confidence better these days than he ever used to.

After a moment, Shawn pushes his chair backward to give himself room to cross his ankle over his knee and fold his arms behind his head. He leans back and looks at Maya.

Maya watches as he relaxes into his chair. She follows suit, crossing her long legs and leaning forward to look up at the stars.

“Can I tell you something? I, uh, I felt weird saying anything before, but I want you to know. I want you to know everything now, so.”

She blinks quickly, a little startled. She wets her lips and glances back at him. “You can tell me anything. Of course.”

She really believes that now.

Shawn bites at his lip, cheek bulging with a slight smile before he continues.

“So, you know that guitar I showed you? The first one I ever made?” His fingers scratch over his thigh, nails picking at his jeans. He takes a breath, wets his lips.

“I named it after you,” he finally says with a soft laugh, shaking his head a little. “Lulu. Guess I was still kinda lovesick.”

Maya was preparing herself for something worse, something harsher. He pleasantly surprises her. A bubble of a giggle rises in her throat. She’s delighted and totally honored. She goes a warm pink color and settles further into her chair, slumping down as she beams at him.

“Really? Wow. I’ll take a guitar named after me over a ship any day of the week.”

She laughs again, blushing furiously, raking a hand through her hair, “Especially if you made it.”

“Could name a whole series after you, sugar,” he murmurs, sitting forward and leaning his forearms on his knees. He tilts his head. “Would you let me do that?”

He’s been thinking about it for a while, now. Starting a proper series with a name, instead of just fucking around with whatever he wants, or only refurbishing. The money’s better with refurb. But that’s why he saves, and that’s why he keeps strong relationships with his elite clients. Elite is classiest way to say famous, he’s pretty sure.

Anyway, he thinks naming a series after Maya would be. Nice. Maybe a little cheesy, and sentimental. But he’s a little cheesy and a little sentimental. He can’t help it, not with her.

Maya is flooded with pride. She aims her gaze down at her feet and takes a deep breath.

“I’d love that. When you decide I’ve earned it.”

She doesn’t want them getting ahead of themselves again. It’s so easy for them to do. But she wants stable, she wants a foundation, not building blocks just tall enough for them to keep climbing with nothing to hold onto.

But someday? Yeah. She’d like that.

She’s right about earning it. Not that he doesn’t think she already deserves it, because she does. He’s the one who needs to earn it. And they need to earn it together, too.

He stands up, tucks the lion under his arm and reaches for Maya’s hand when she stands, too. His thumb brushes her knuckles while he leads her toward the parking lot.

“Do you wanna, I dunno, drive around and talk a little? I don’t think I’m too sick of you yet,” he asks with a wry grin, glancing down at her as he gives her fingers a gentle squeeze.

She’s relieved when he mentions an alternative to taking her straight home. She doesn’t want this night over yet. Because he’s not coming home with her.

“That sounds perfect,” she assures him, walking a tad closer to his side, “We should do Shore Drive and check out all those crazy massive mansions on the north end of the beach.”

Shawn grins. “You love Shore Drive. Why not get a fancy mansion yourself?”

He’s teasing, really. He loves her cottage. It’s comfy and cozy and so perfect for Maya. He knows why she picked it.

Maya grins and shrugs. “I do love Shore Drive but I just like to gawk at it, I wouldn’t actually live there. When I was dreaming of Avila I always pictured myself in one of the old historical cottages in my neighborhood.”

She also pictured herself with him if she’s being honest, but that kind of admission doesn’t go well with the “take it slow” plan they’ve devised.

Shawn leads her to the passenger’s side, opens the door and helps her inside with a gentle smile. She’s got her bare feet kicked up onto the dashboard by the time he’s tucked the lion away and slid into the driver’s seat.

Maya makes herself comfortable in her seat. He looks happy to see her there. She watches him carefully stow the lion in the backseat and start the engine. The radio turns on like it always does in his car to a station playing some mellow John Mayer. She smiles and turns it down just slightly so they can talk over it.

“So I’m taking the long way, right?” he asks, looking at her as he slows to a stop at the red light leading out of the parking lot.

Maya smiles again, softer this time. She burrows down into her seat that smells like him. “Yes please. I like taking the long way with you.”

The fastest way to Shore Drive is to the right, so when the light turns green, Shawn hooks left. He flicks the button above the rear view mirror and the sunroof glides back. He rolls down the windows and hangs an arm outside as they whip down the beachside highway.

Maya purrs with the wind in her hair. Usually she gets sleepy sitting in the car but she’s strangely energized tonight. She watches moonlight bounce off the ocean with a sparkle in her eye. She takes a deep sea-salted breath and releases it slowly through her nose.

“So,” Shawn starts after a moment of driving in silence. “I wanna know. You said— before-- you said I don’t know you anymore. And I want to. So let’s, I dunno, let’s play twenty questions or something.”

He glances over at her, feeling his cheeks twinge. He smiles, then looks back out to the road.

“I mean, if you want.”

Maya nods at his idea, considering. She has so many questions floating around in varying degrees of heaviness, she’s not sure where to go first. She bobs her head back and forth, considering.

“Hmm… ok… how about… other than blow, what are your chosen vices of the last 12 years?”

She says it with a smile so he knows he’s safe with her.

“Oooh,” he purrs, smirking slight as he glances at her. “Only on question one and already getting gritty?”

He chuckles, then sinks his teeth into his lower lip while he thinks. He racks his brain for a good, not-boring answer as he chews at his lip, then soothes it with his tongue.

“Hm,” he murmurs, shrugging a little. “Besides weed and Wednesday night s’mores? I guess those M&M cookies from Panera. Good snack when I’m at the shop late.”

He glances at Maya, corner of his mouth tugged into a frown. “That’s super fucking boring. I’m really boring compared to like, Manhattan people.”

Maya tosses her head back, laughing. “M&M cookies! Those are the best. The chocolate chip ones have nothing on the M&M cookies.”

She wonders if she could pull off baking him a batch herself. Probably not. She might try anyway. He’d probably like that.

“So what about you?”

Maya smiles conspiratorially. “I used to have an online shopping problem. I would order so much stupid shit in the middle of the night. Once I ordered a tangerine orange Kitchenaid mixer.”

Shawn thinks if he were as well off as Maya, he’d have an online shopping problem too. He laughs, shaking his head. Pressing his palm into the steering wheel, he carefully banks the Jeep around a twisting curve in the road.

“Can you even bake? Is that a secret skill you learned?”

Maya exhales so her lips flap comically. She shakes her head and looks down at their twining fingers. She smiles.

“I definitely can’t bake. I can sometimes make chocolate chip cookies without burning them. Like, sometimes.”

She chuckles at herself. She thinks of all the Amazon returns she made in the cold light of day with a blush in her cheeks for even ordering it in the first place.

“Ok. Your turn.” She turns her head to look out at the water.

Shawn switches hands on the wheel so he can reach across the console for her. He glides his palm over the back of her hand, slotting their fingers together so the tips of his brush her wrist.

“Mm. New question for you. What’s your go to comfort movie? You—“ he clears his throat, “You said I don’t know your favorite movies, but I used to. So—“ his lips twitch, “—I wanna know again.”

Maya’s very sure Shawn could still reel off an impressive list of all her favorite movies, even now, even after all this time. She vaguely recalls crying at him the other day about having go-to movies she’d put to calm her down and help her fall asleep when she was in the thick of the stress at work.

“I mean, I still love all the movies I did. I adopted a couple that used to be what I’d put on to fall asleep. They’re weird choices, actually. One was “The Other Woman” with Leslie Mann and Cameron Diaz. I really liked all their outfits and their houses. The other one was Casablanca.”

She tilts her head back at him with a shy smile. Casablanca was her favorite fantasy, apart from the ending.

Of all the gin joints in all the cities in all the world. Shawn said something like that to her recently, before their blow up. She hasn’t forgotten.

Shawn frowns, foot easing off the gas as they pull onto Shore Drive, slowing down a bit so Maya can admire the mansions.

“I have a love-hate relationship with Casablanca. I don’t like a sad ending, I guess.”

Maya nods in understanding. It is a heartbreaking ending. She was usually asleep before it ended, though, mercifully. She thinks she wouldn’t like it as much if she watched the ending regularly. It would hit too close to home.

Maya doesn’t think she’s as interested in the mansions as she expected to be, not with him sitting here, captivating her like he does. She glances over his shoulder at one of her favorite Shore Drive houses and back at him.

The Jeep rolls to a stop when they come to the stop sign at the end of the second block. There’s no one around at the moment, so Shawn looks from the road to Maya, only to find she’s already looking at him. He smiles.

“Tell me a secret,” he says, dragging his calloused thumb across her knuckles, “Something you haven’t told anyone ever. Even if it’s silly or stupid. Or embarrassing.”

He grins, quirking a brow.

Her nose twitches. She strokes her free hand through her hair. What secret could she possibly have to share with him that he doesn’t already know? He used to know everything. What’s left?

Her brows pull together, then apart. She smirks. “This isn’t exactly a secret but I haven’t told anyone I did this, only people in my office know. When I quit my job, I didn’t give notice or anything, I just walked out one day during lunch in my $2000 Gucci suit and took the subway to Central Park. I ate a hot dog. And then I ate another. And then I got a third one and ate it on my way into my boss’s office. I told him I quit, I crumpled up the wax paper and tossed it on his desk. I packed up my office and never went back.”

She smiles warmly. “It’s one of the proudest moments of my life, I think.”

“Holy shit, Lu.”

He says it before he can stop himself, doesn’t mean to sound as bewildered as he does. He’s not so much surprised by the story as he is impressed. Proud. Thankful she stood up for herself when she needed to.

He grins, reaches from the steering wheel to cup his other hand around hers, so he’s got her completely encompassed by his broad palms.

“That’s really fucking awesome. I don’t think I’d have the guts to do that,” he shakes his head, squeezing her hand gently.

Maya preens at his reaction. She lets him take her hand and gush at her a little. Bubbling under his gaze, she reaches up with her free hand and draws a blunted fingernail against his jaw, admiring the perfect line of it. Her fingers twitch in his for her pencils.

“But, ah, I think you’ve always been braver than me,” his smile softens, and he carefully brings her hand to his mouth, his fingers wrapping around her wrist. He presses a soft kiss to her knuckles, thumb pushing into the middle of her palm.

“I don’t think that’s true,” she murmurs.

Shawn was brave even when she wasn’t. He got himself to LA even without her as a parachute. When it didn’t go to his plan, he was brave enough to get himself out and start fresh and new where no one knew him. He’s been brave his whole life -- she feels she’s only been brave in the last few months.

His lips are a compliment all their own. She accepts it with an extra pulse of her heart.

Shawn blushes. The flush starts in the tips of his ears and spreads to his cheeks. No one gets him this bashful anymore. It used to be easy, but the years have hardened him. Now, it’s only Maya.

He pulls a hand from hers and takes the steering wheel. He starts driving again so he doesn’t kiss her. His Jeep is a dangerous place to kiss. They used to fuck all the time in the Jeep he had in college. This newer model has even more room for them to mess around.

He doesn’t need the temptation. Go slow.

Maya inhales as her chest falls back with the gentle lurch of the car. It’s good they’re moving. Moving means not stopping, not crawling into the backseat, not getting carnal at the corner of Shore and Shell. Moving is good.

“If it’s my turn to ask a question again,” she starts, voice soft and quiet over the lapping of the waves on shore, “What’s the last song you wrote?”

Maya’s question almost makes him choke. The only songs he ever writes anymore are about her. The songwriter part of him feels like a remnant from before, from when he was so in love with her he couldn’t contain it to their relationship, so it poured out of him as music and lyrics.

It’s a way to cope now.

“I uh,” he laughs, “I wrote a few stanzas on the harp the other day.”

Safe answer. Neutral.

But then—

“I guess that’s not, like, a real song though. The, ah, the last real song I wrote was a few weeks ago? It just kind of came to me at the piano. The music anyway. I’ve been jotting down lyrics all summer.”

She clears her throat and continues admiring the houses as they pass slowly on the deserted street. She’s glad to hear he’s been writing music even if he gets a little cagey about what kind. She nods like she’s not dying of curiosity.

“Oh, that’s great! What… um, what’s it called?”

A thinly veiled version of “is it about me?” if Maya’s ever heard one.

He doesn’t feel like hiding from her anymore. The parts of himself he shared in the beginning of the summer were the easy ones. The ones she already knew. The songs he used to write about her were simple. Juvenile. Important, but he’s outgrown them.

The ones he writes now cut a little more deeply, in ways he didn’t want her to know about when he was busy acting like they were the same people they’d been in college.

“Oh, eh, I don’t really have a title yet. That’s always the hardest part for me. But I think, well, it’s definitely about us. About you.”

He wants to say if that’s okay, but his adult brain reminds him he doesn’t need her permission to write music about things that are important to him.

Shawn doesn’t hesitate to tell her he’s written about her. She can’t say she’s completely surprised. It’s nice to hear, though. The confirmation from him feels good. He cares enough to write.

Maya nods. She glances past him at an old Victorian that’s stood the test of time. It’s weatherbeaten and stately and it’s not going anywhere.

“I think it’s good for us both,” she assures him, “That we’re both re-exploring what we love to do. That we’re working on ourselves that way. And that we’re honest about it.”

She talks about them like they’re a team. That’s really all he’s ever wanted. His heart flutters in his chest. He thinks it’s good, too.

“It’s not a happy song,” he says, because he can’t stop the honesty now. He wrote it when he still thought she was going back to New York. At the time, he thought it was evidence that he could cope with her leaving.

Now he thinks it works with the new relationship they’re embarking upon. He can fiddle with a couple of the lyrics, anyway.

Maya casts her eyes out at the water. She hums.

“They can’t all be happy songs, I guess.”

She thinks all they can do is hope the rest of their songs will be happy. They deserve that. They both do.

He glances at her as he turns off of Shore, down a small beach road that will spit them back onto Main Street, eventually.

“But I could play it for you sometime. If you want.”

She feels his eyes again. She looks back with a quiet smile. “I’d love to hear it when you’re ready for me.”

Coming back to Main Street means the end of the night. Maya sighs and hopes it doesn’t come off too dramatic. But the truth is, this was a hell of a first date. She feels better with him now than she has all summer. Cards are on the table.

As he pulls into her driveway to drop her off, she grins.

“You still owe me about 16 more questions,” she laughs, “Rain check?”

Shawn feels like he is the embodiment of the sigh she releases. He doesn’t want the night to be over either. He goes as slowly as he can on the way back to her house, squeezing her hand every now and then.

He throws the Jeep in park and lets his head fall back against the seat. He smiles.

“What if you ask me one more while I walk you to your door?”

He lifts his brows, then gets out of the car and jogs to the passenger’s side so he can open the door for Maya.

Maya fights the embarrassed chuckling that threatens when he scampers around the side of the car to help her out. She takes his hand and steps out, her sandals hooked in her fingers. She keeps hold of his hand and walks slowly up the cobblestone path to her front door. She glances over at her porch swing and thinks maybe she’ll come out here after she gets ready for bed with her sketchpad, something to take the edge off before she sleeps.

In the warm lamplight, Shawn glows. She takes his other hand and steps a little closer to him. She swallows any nerves left and fixes her eyes on his.

“Ok, last question. How do you feel about how tonight went?”

Shawn drops one of her hands in favor of cupping her neck, thumb stroking across her jaw. He smiles, hanging his head a bit closer to her.

“I feel like it was the best first date I’ve ever been on.” It sounds like a line, but he says it as earnestly as he can and hopes she’ll know he means it.

His gaze drops to her lips, but only briefly. He looks up, wetting his own lips and pressing them together.

His voice is raspy when next he speaks.

“I also feel like I’d really like to kiss you now,” he clears his throat. Then, gently, “Please.”

Maya’s eyes flutter. His thumb is hot and rough on her skin. When he’s standing this close, she can smell his cologne, shampoo, body wash, him. She fights a pathetic whimper rising in her throat.

It’s just a kiss. It’s just a kiss.

He looks down at her lips and she nearly lunges for him. Apparently it’s a kiss she’s fucking starving for.

She exhales slowly trying not to pant at him.

“Yeah. Yes. Mhmm. Please. Kiss me.”

Kissing Maya is so easy and so hard at the same time. Easy, because they’ve done it so much, hard, because they’ve never done it like this. He’s never had to walk away from her after.

He presses his thumb to the apple of her cheek as he brings his lips to hers, his chest deflating with a soft murmur as he releases a breath he’s been holding all night. He sighs into her mouth, stepping closer to her until their bodies are flush together.

It’s a dangerous game, sipping at her lips and holding her close while not letting it go any further. He’s delicate with her, doesn’t try to coax her mouth open with his tongue, even though the instinct is there, twitching in his fingers.

He resists. It’ll be worth it, in the long run.

The kiss is somewhat chaste but it doesn’t feel unsatisfying, exactly. Just cautious. It’s warm and soft and so tender.

She wants to suck on his lower lip or tangle her fingers in his hair. She wants to let them in so they can stumble up the stairs, shedding clothes as they go. She doesn’t. She just kisses him back, inhaling as he sighs.

They separate gently. She licks her lips, like she just wants to taste him again.

She’s panting, not because the kiss was so hot, but from the strength it takes to control herself.

“So uhm,” she murmurs, “Do you want to… I dunno, hang out again tomorrow?”

Is that too soon? What does taking it slow feel like?

Shawn has to take two full steps away from her to make sure he doesn’t stumble inside after her, like he’s done so many times this summer.

Go slow.

She sounds unsure of her offer, but he wants it. He grins.

“Yes-- Yeah. Yeah, totally. I do want that. I fuckin’--” he laughs, shaking his head and scrubbing a hand through his hair as he looks at his feet, “I miss you already.”

Maya chuckles back and it sounds a little raspy.

“Yeah,” she replies, “I know what you mean.”

She doesn’t know exactly if he’s referring to missing her even though she’s still standing with her hand on the doorknob or missing her because if it were a few weeks ago, he’d probably be inside her at this time of the night.

Either way, she feels it too.

With one last slightly shaky but still hopeful smile, she lets herself inside to dig out a sketchbook.

----------

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