Chapter 5
Maya
Oh. Oh God.
This is not happening. This cannot be happening. I am not sprawled across Lucas Mason's chest like some rom-com heroine. Feeling every inch of his hard body beneath me. Fighting the completely insane urge to kiss him senseless.
Except I absolutely am.
My palms are pressed flat against his shoulders.
I can feel the heat of his skin through the thin cotton of his t-shirt.
His heart is racing beneath my touch. Rapid, unsteady beats that match the frantic rhythm of my own pulse.
When did he get so solid? So warm? The awkward boy I remember has been replaced by a man who feels solid and oozes sex appeal.
The realization sends heat pooling low in my stomach.
Focus, Maya. Get up. Move. Say something normal and pretend this isn't the most turned-on you've been in years.
But I can't move. Can't think. Can't do anything but stare down into those blue eyes that are looking at me like I'm something delicious he's considering devouring.
"Maya." My name is rough on his lips. The sound does things to my insides that should probably be illegal. His hands are resting on my waist. Not holding me down, not pulling me closer, just there. Warm and steady and making me super aware of every point where our bodies connect.
This is insane. I'm supposed to be smart.
Logical. The girl who thinks things through.
I don't fall for my childhood friends. I don't get tangled up with men who represent everything I ran away from.
I definitely don't lie on top of them in candlelit apartments while storms rage outside like something out of a fairy tale.
But Lucas's thumb traces a small circle against my hip through my oversized t-shirt. Rational thought becomes impossible.
"We're really not good at this whole 'friends' thing, are we?" I whisper. Trying to deflect with humor, but my voice comes out breathless and shaky.
A ghost of a smile tugs at his lips. "Never were."
He's right. Even in high school, there was always this undercurrent between us. The way he'd look at me during class when he thought I wasn't paying attention. The way my stomach would flip when he'd walk me to my locker. The way we'd find excuses to study together even when we both knew the work.
And now here we are, ten years later. Apparently nothing has changed except that we're both old enough to do something about it.
"Lucas..." I start, but I don't know how to finish. Don't know how to explain that this terrifies me almost as much as it thrills me. That being this close to him makes me feel like that seventeen-year-old girl again. The one who spent way too much time wondering what it would be like to kiss him.
"I know." His hand moves from my waist to my face. Fingers thread through my hair. "I know this is unexpected."
"Unexpected doesn't begin to cover it." But even as I say the words, I'm leaning into his touch. "I mean, a few hours ago I was convinced my life was over. Now I'm having very naughty thoughts about my high school friend on his living room floor."
"How naughty?" There's something almost playful in his voice now. My stomach fluttering in ways that should be embarrassing in response.
"Very." I feel my cheeks heat. "Like, definitely not suitable for polite company naughty."
His eyes darken. "Good thing we're not in polite company."
The words send a shiver through me. This is dangerous territory we're wandering into. The kind that changes friendships and complicates everything.
But when he looks at me like that, it makes my brain go completely offline.
"This is a terrible idea," I whisper. Already leaning closer.
"Probably." His eyes drop to my lips. The hunger I see there makes heat race through my veins. "But I'm having trouble caring about that right now."
The space between us shrinks to nothing. Our breath mingles. I can smell his soap on his skin, the faint lingering scent of the wine we shared. His hand slides to the back of my neck. Fingers tangling in my hair. Every nerve ending I have lights up like the Fourth of July.
This is it. This is the moment everything changes.
I lean closer. Drawn by a gravity I can't fight. Until our lips are barely an inch apart. I can feel his breath against my mouth. Warm and wine-sweet. My eyes flutter closed in anticipation of—
Wait. Wait, wait, wait.
What am I doing? This is Lucas. My Lucas from high school.
Except he's not my anything anymore. I'm lying on top of him like some kind of romance novel cliché.
Oh God, what if I'm a terrible kisser? What if ten years of mediocre city dating has my technique in shambles?
Suddenly I feel like a teenage girl again.
Completely confused and lacking confidence.
"I can't." The words tumble out as I jerk backward. Scrambling off him with all the grace of a startled cat. "I'm sorry, I can't."
I stumble. Nearly face-planting into his coffee table. Lucas reaches for me automatically. His hands steady me. But I wave him off with what I'm sure is a completely dignified gesture.
"I'm fine! Totally fine. Just, uh..." I gesture vaguely at the space between us. "This got very intense very quickly."
Lucas sits up slowly. Runs a hand through his hair. Amusement lacing his expression. Both reassuring and mildly insulting.
"Intense," he repeats. I can hear the smile in his voice.
"Don't laugh at me." I cross my arms. Trying to look stern instead of like someone who just fled from the best almost-kiss of her life. "I'm having a moment."
"What kind of moment?"
"A panic moment. A 'what the hell am I doing' moment." I start pacing. Standing still feeling impossible. "I mean, three hours ago I was homeless and heartbroken. Now I'm practically molesting my high school friend on his living room floor."
"Molesting?" Lucas's eyebrows shoot up. "That's what we're calling it?"
"You know what I mean." I can feel my cheeks burning. "This is all very sudden. And complicated. And I don't do complicated well. I do overthinking and running away well, but not complicated."
Lucas stands. Even across the room I can see the careful way he's holding himself. Clearly trying not to spook me further.
"Maya, it's okay. We don't have to—"
"I know we don't have to. That's not the point." I stop pacing and look at him. "The point is I want to. Which is terrifying. Because wanting things has not been working out great for me lately."
"Wanting me is terrifying?" His tone playful. Which makes me want to throw a pillow at him.
"Yes! You're all..." I gesture at his general existence. "Attractive and you smell really good. It's very distracting."
That gets me a full smile. "I smell good?"
"Don't let it go to your head." But I'm smiling too, despite myself. "I'm just saying, this situation has gotten very complicated very quickly. I need a minute to process."
"Fair enough. Take all the time you need."
Before I can respond, before I can figure out what to say to that unexpected reasonableness, my phone buzzes on the counter behind me. The sound cuts through our moment. I see Lucas tense as he recognizes the fear that immediately floods my face.
"It's probably nothing," I say. My voice wavers as I reach for it.
It's not nothing. It's never nothing anymore.
The text message glows on my screen:
Sweet dreams, Maya. See you soon.
I stare at the phone. The cozy, candlelit bubble we've been reveling in suddenly feels paper-thin. Like it could be shattered by one wrong move.
"Maya." Lucas's voice is careful. Controlled. "What does it say?"
I hold up the phone so he can read it. Watch his jaw tighten as he takes in the words. The easy, flirtatious mood from moments ago evaporates. Replaced by something harder.
"Okay," I say. Force my voice to sound normal even though my heart is hammering against my ribs. "So that's not creepy at all. 'Sweet dreams'? What is this, a horror movie?"
I'm babbling. I always babble when I'm scared. Fill up silence with nervous chatter because the alternative is falling apart completely. And I cannot fall apart. Not now. Not in front of Lucas when I'm already such a disaster.
"I mean, at least he's not creative about it," I continue. Setting the phone down like it might bite me. "Generic stalker threats are so passé. Where's the originality? The flair? If you're going to terrorize someone, at least put some effort into it."
"Maya."
"What? I'm just saying, if I was going to stalk someone—which I wouldn't, obviously, because I'm not a psychopath—but if I was, I'd at least come up with better material than 'see you soon.' That's like, stalking 101. Amateur hour."
"Maya." Lucas moves closer. I realize I've been pacing around his living room like a caged animal. "You need to breathe."
"I am breathing. See? In, out, in, out. Perfectly functional respiratory system.
" I gesture wildly at my chest. Immediately regretting it when Lucas's eyes follow the movement.
"Although I suppose fear-induced hyperventilation is a thing.
Do you think I'm hyperventilating? I feel like I might be hyperventilating. "
"Sit down." His voice is gentle but firm. He guides me back toward the couch. "You're okay. You're safe."
"Safe is relative." I perch on the edge of the cushions.
Unable to sit still. "I mean, yes, technically I'm safe right now.
In your apartment. With you. But tomorrow?
Next week? Who knows? Maybe I'll develop agoraphobia.
Never leave the house again. Become one of those people who orders everything online and has meaningful relationships with delivery drivers. "
Lucas sits beside me. Close but not touching. I can feel the warmth radiating from his body. It should be comforting. Instead, it makes me hyperaware of how close we were just minutes ago. How close we came to—