Maya watched her with pride, but her gaze unintentionally shifted slightly toward someone sitting not too far away. A boy who, to be honest, looked like he had somehow gotten lost in time. He had a calm presence, a posture that screamed 'good guy', and although Maya constantly tried to convince herself that she wasn’t interested in boys, this one was undeniably attractive. He looked like a Greek god statue had come to life and decided to take a casual ride on the subway. She couldn’t help but smile; it was almost impossible not to. He seemed like an anomaly in this chaotic ecosystem.
With his light brown hair perfectly tousled (how do they even do that?) and his impeccably casual shirt, he looked like a catalog model who had stepped down from his pedestal to mingle with mere mortals.
Even in the chaos of the New York subway, he seemed completely out of place. His sharp jawline and relaxed posture gave him an air of confidence, but there was something in his barely-there smile that hinted at shyness. He wore a light blue shirt under a dark blue jacket, clean black jeans, and worn-out black boots that looked like they had stories of their own.
“Yeah? Let’s see how modern you really are when you see him,” Maya teased.
Riley turned to look where Maya was gesturing, and when she looked back, her lips wore a silly smile. The boy had noticed them too. He was holding a book in his hands (because of course he was reading a book, like some indie movie protagonist) but had glanced up from its pages to study the girl staring at him. Maya couldn’t quite tell which of them he was looking at, but wasn’t it obvious? Riley, of course. Although... his sweet smile made her momentarily forget her own plans.
Riley giggled nervously, and Maya snapped back to her usual self, laughing too—but only to mock her friend.
“Well, Riles, looks like your new modern look is working. Kiwi lips? Subway rebellion? I’m impressed.”
“Oh, thanks,” Riley stammered, clearly nervous, fiddling with the lip gloss in her hands. “It’s part of my new self. You know, sophisticated, daring… modern.”
Maya burst out laughing, because if there was something she loved more than getting into trouble, it was watching Riley try to be cool. Still, there was something about that boy, that barely-there smile, that unsettled her for just a second. Only a second. And then she was back to her usual self.
Riley’s attempt at subtlety was hilariously bad. She kept darting her eyes toward the boy every two seconds like a malfunctioning robot.
“Yeah... you’ll need lessons. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you everything I know about boys and girls. If you want to be modern, you need a master. And lucky for you, I’ve got a PhD in this.”
Maya let go of the vertical pole they were holding for balance and confidently strode toward the boy. She approached with a nearly choreographed grace, grabbing the pole in front of him with one hand in what could only be described as a seductively casual move. Riley was probably having a mini heart attack behind her, but honestly, that only made it more fun.
“Hi, I’m Maya. You’re really cute,” she said boldly. The boy looked up at her with an intense gaze and a lopsided smile, and for the first time, Maya felt a small, almost imperceptible flicker of nervousness. “We should go out. Hey, you make me happy. You don’t pay attention to me. This isn’t working, we can be friends... not really.” she said, acting out each line like a one-woman drama class.
The boy’s expression shifted from amused to puzzled, as if he were trying to solve a 4D puzzle. Just as Maya was about to make a triumphant exit, he grabbed her arm.
“What? What was all that?” His voice was deep, but what caught Maya’s attention wasn’t just the tone—it was the accent. A perfect Texan drawl. It made her grin.
“Well, well. Look what the subway brought in. A cowboy lost in the big city,” she said, crossing her arms and giving him an amused once-over. “Tell me, where’d you park your horse?”
The boy blinked, processing her comment, then smiled. And wow, that smile. It wasn’t a flashy grin; it was subtle, like he knew exactly what kind of effect it had and was enjoying the slow torture.
“I guess I left it parked by the subway entrance.”
Maya froze for a split second. Just a split second. Then she recovered with the speed of someone who would never admit they were caught off guard.
“Oh, right. Like all modern cowboys.”
She walked back to Riley with the energy of someone who had just won a competition, even though technically, nothing had happened yet.
“Well?” Riley asked, hopeful.
“He’s available. We’re done.”
“Are you okay? Should we talk about this?” Riley actually looked worried, which melted Maya’s heart a little.
“Do you want to be like me?”
“I want to be just like you,” Riley sighed. “I overthink everything and… you don’t think at all!”
Maya blinked, processing. Was that a compliment? An insult? Both?
“Exactly. You get me. No need to overthink.”
With a quick move, Maya let go of Riley’s hand on the pole and pushed her—literally—toward the boy. The subway’s motion helped.
“Well, Riley, looks like you’re already falling into the arms of your cowboy prince.”
Maya crossed her arms, watching with satisfaction as the boy caught Riley with the precision of a romantic comedy hero, leaving her sitting in his lap.
“Maya! What are you doing?” Riley protested, her face red as a tomato.
“What? I’m just helping destiny along,” Maya said, raising her hands in mock innocence.
The boy looked from Riley to Maya. There was something in the way he looked at Maya—something she couldn’t quite figure out—that made her heart skip a beat.
No. Don’t even think about it, Maya. This isn’t for you.
“Hi…” Riley stammered, looking at the boy.
He smiled at her.
“I’m Lucas.”
“Nice name.” Maya could not only hear the tremor in her friend’s voice but could also see how Riley was slightly trembling, which made Maya bite her lip at how adorable the scene was.
Lucas gently helped Riley to the seat beside him, but immediately, an older woman approached. Maya recognized her from the neighborhood—not personally, but she saw her daily.
"Perhaps someone might offer their seat to an elderly woman," the lady suggested. Like the gentleman he was, Lucas began to stand, but the woman quickly stopped him, pushing him back into his seat. "Oh no, not you, apple pie."
Riley stood up and leaned toward the woman's ear.
"Please don’t make me move; I’d like to see where this goes," she whispered in the same persuasive tone she used to convince her parents to watch one more episode of the latest hit series before bed.
"I’ve worked a twelve-hour shift, and I want to see where this goes," the woman replied, touching her lower back. Clearly, Riley wasn’t her parents. "Is that okay?"
"That’s okay…"
Riley walked back toward Maya with her tail metaphorically tucked between her legs, but her face beamed with joy.
“It was amazing.”
“You’re welcome.”
“What if that was the best moment of my life? What if nothing like that ever happens again?”
Maya smirked mischievously, a grin Riley knew all too well and had learned to approach with caution. Rightly so, because once again, Maya gave her a shove. This time, however, the universe decided it would be far more entertaining for Riley to land—not on Lucas—but in the lap of the elderly lady nearby.
"This is for you," the woman said with mock irritation, helping Riley back into Lucas’s lap, the 'rightful' seat.
Leaning casually against the metro wall, Maya watched as Riley and Lucas exchanged shy words. She could tell Riley was probably building an elaborate fairy tale in her head, complete with castles and white horses—or cowboys, in this case. Yet, despite herself, Maya felt a strange knot twist in her stomach.
She had always been the best friend. The one who pushed Riley toward better things, better people. That was her role. And this Lucas guy, with his calm smile and piercing gaze, was no exception.
This is for Riley. It’s always been for Riley.
But for just one second, Maya let herself wonder… what if, for once, she were the protagonist? The thought flitted briefly through her mind before she quickly shoved it aside.
The school bell rang with all the subtlety of a garbage truck skidding downhill. For Maya, the sound was nothing short of a cruel reminder that the education system was clearly not designed for brilliant minds like hers. She followed Riley to her locker—not because she had anything to do there, but because any excuse to delay the inevitable was a good one.
“So, how was the homework?” Riley asked, radiating her usual unreasonably chipper energy for this time of day.
“Super easy,” Maya replied without hesitation, already holding back a laugh.
Riley gave her that look—the one reserved specifically for Maya doing 'Maya things', which was, frankly, 95% of the time.
“You didn’t do it, did you?”
Maya let out a laugh so carefree it almost sounded genuine.
“I don’t even know where my books are. They could’ve been kidnapped, but I’m broke, so no ransom money. Sorry.”
Riley sighed the way she always did when confronting the chaotic reality of being Maya Hart’s best friend. She reached into her bag, pulling out two textbooks, a notebook, and a pencil case, holding them like they were bars of solid gold.
“Here. And I want you to know, these are heavy,” she said, handing them over with a mix of affection and resignation. “This is pure love.”
“Aww, Riley, you’re always so thoughtful. Why don’t you carry them for me too? Since we’re at it.”
Riley shook her head, laughing, so Maya took the books with a smile that could be interpreted as either touched or plotting something devious—there was no middle ground with Maya. They walked to the classroom together, where Maya immediately noticed the empty seat behind hers. As always, Riley took the seat to her right, and right behind her was their ever-reliable best friend, Farkle, already opening his notebook with unsettling efficiency.
“You really need to start doing your homework,” Riley whispered as she settled in. “This teacher is insane. I swear he has unresolved issues, probably needs therapy or a hobby.”
At that moment, the 'insane teacher' made his grand entrance. Ah yes, Cory Matthews, the man who had decided that teaching history to hormonal teenagers was his calling. Also known as Riley’s dad.
“Good morning, sweetie,” Cory greeted with a cheerful grin.
“Good morning, daddy,” Riley replied in the sweetest tone Maya had ever heard.
“You’re late to class.”
Before Riley could defend herself, Maya stepped in, pulling a yellow slip of paper from her pocket like a magician revealing a rabbit from a hat.
“Oh, don’t worry, Mr. Matthews. You wrote her a note.”
“I did?”
“You did.”
“You did,” Riley echoed automatically, handing over the note.
Cory examined it with skepticism, because he knew exactly what Maya Hart was capable of.
“‘Riley will be late. Deal with it,’” Cory read aloud. His frown softened slightly as if begrudgingly impressed by how convincing it was. "You forged my signature pretty well."
“It was easy,” Maya shrugged. "You write like a girl."
The class erupted in laughter. Cory, clearly offended but lacking a solid retort, chose to ignore the comment and began his lesson with a mix of enthusiasm and resignation.
“Now, let me attempt to implant some knowledge into your brains: The Civil War!”
“The Civil Bore!” Maya quipped, her grin daring him to rise to the challenge.
“Thank you, future Employee of the Month at the local mini-mart,” Cory shot back with a deadpan expression.
Maya raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms.
“I’d make more money than you.”
It was hard to tell if Cory was more impressed or resigned. But, he simply couldn't find the words to refute that.
“The Civil War! Anyone?”
Riley eagerly raised her hand.
“It was a war we fought against ourselves.”
Cory blinked in genuine surprise.
“Hey, you actually studied.”
“No, I’m living it,” Riley deadpanned, dramatically dropping her head onto the desk.
Farkle, ever the opportunist, clapped like she had just won an Oscar.
“Guys, do we want to learn or not?” he squeaked in his high-pitched voice, entirely unbothered by the concept of puberty—unlike the low, soothing voice of that guy on the subway. Why am I thinking about Lucas? Maya wondered.
“Farkle…” Mr. Matthews started.
But before he could say more, Farkle jumped up and stole the spotlight—literally. He replaced Mr. Matthews’ nameplate with one that said 'Farkle' and began running the class.
What followed was a monologue as dramatic as it was ridiculous, including references to the sun, the moon, and his unrequited love for both girls. Maya watched with the perfect blend of horror and fascination, finally muttering:
“You don’t want this.”
“But why not?” Farkle replied, undeterred.
“Because it’s not good for you,” Maya said flatly, without elaborating.
“Why did I choose teaching? Oh, right, summer vacations,” Cory muttered, clearly rethinking his life choices. He attempted to steer the lesson back on track, though his voice carried the weary energy of a man teetering on the edge. “We were talking about something important: figuring out who we are as people. Who am I? What should I do? History shows bad things happen when you don’t know who you are.”
At that moment, the classroom door creaked open dramatically, capturing everyone’s attention as heads swiveled toward the interruption.
"Who are you? I don’t know who you are," Cory said, squinting toward the doorway.
“The guy from the subway,” Riley whispered to Maya.
And indeed, it was. There he was, that boy. When he had been sitting on the subway, Maya hadn't noticed how tall he was. She watched him walk by in what felt like slow motion until she saw him hand a note from the principal to her best friend's dad.
"I'm Lucas Friar, from Austin, Texas."
But of course, Maya already knew that. His accent gave him away. Maya saw a unique opportunity in all of this, which made her smile and bite her lip as she toyed with her pen.
"Oh, a new student, Mr. Friar?" Mr. Matthews asked, glancing at the paper handed to him.
"Yes, sir."
"Perfect. You’re just in time for today’s assignments. Take a seat," he replied, pointing to an empty spot in the classroom, conveniently behind Maya.
Lucas made his way to his new seat without hesitation, and Maya, a master in the art of subtlety, didn't follow him with her eyes. Riley, however—who clearly hadn't read the manual on 'How Not to Look Obvious'—turned in her seat as if her life depended on it. Mr. Matthews, letting out a sigh that seemed to encapsulate years of fatherhood and teaching, gently turned Riley's face back toward the front.
"Alright. Now, open your books to page forty-eight," Cory announced, trying to reestablish order.
The class complied, though boredom and resignation were quick to set in.
"Now, flip to page one," he added enigmatically. The sound of rustling pages filled the room as they obeyed, confused. "And now, I want you to read from page one to forty-eight."
Maya let out an exaggerated sigh of indignation, accompanied by a dramatic, 'Seriously?' She wasn’t alone; the groans of her classmates soon followed.
"Wow, what a shame, guys," Mr. Matthews said, clearly enjoying the chaos he’d provoked. "Today, we're going to learn something that might help you become someone in life. Speaking of that, your homework will be an essay on something you believe in so strongly that you'd fight for it. Three pages."
Maya's hand shot up instantly, an idea gleaming in her mind.
"Homework! I’d fight against homework. We come here every day; can’t you just teach us everything during class hours?"
"Woo!" Riley cheered enthusiastically, only to shrink back immediately under her father’s stern look. "No woo!"
"They take our days; let’s take back our evenings! No homework, more freedom. Who’s with me? No homework, more freedom!" Maya stood up, starting an impromptu chant that quickly spread through the classroom as her classmates joined in with infectious enthusiasm.
Mr. Matthews, though pretending to be frustrated, couldn’t help but admire Maya’s natural leadership. The only ones not chanting were Farkle, Riley, and—much to Maya's annoyance—Lucas Friar. Still, her spirit didn’t waver.
"Come on, Riles! You wanna be like me? Stand up!" Maya said, confidently marching toward the door.
Riley, timid but swayed by her friend, stood hesitantly, avoiding her father’s incredulous gaze.
"What are you doing?" he asked, clearly puzzled.
"I'm deciding who I want to be and whose world I want to live in," Riley replied, attempting to sound confident.
"Riley, I know you. You know exactly who you are," her father said, softening his tone to calm her.
"Oh, really? Who am I?"
"You’re just like me," he said proudly.
"Really? Would you do this? No homework, more freedom! No homework, more freedom!" Riley yelled, joining Maya as they walked past Farkle.
"Farkle, are you with us?" Riley asked.
Farkle stood slowly, torn between his love for knowledge and his loyalty to his friends.
"My education or my women? My education or my women?" he muttered, his face a portrait of internal conflict.
Mr. Matthews, anticipating the inevitable, positioned himself just in time to catch him.
"Oh, it’s happening again, sir..." Farkle fainted dramatically into his teacher’s arms, much to the amusement of the rest of the group.
The unmistakable 'ding' of the microwave echoed through the small kitchen of Maya’s apartment, marking the highlight of her evening: macaroni and cheese was ready. The usual dinner, because when your mom worked late and your idea of cooking was 'press a button and wait three minutes', this was what you got.
She plopped down on the couch, balancing the hot plate on her lap while her homework notebook sat, neglected, on the table in front of her. She eyed it with a grin that could only be described as very Maya: a little mischievous, a little defiant, and entirely satisfied. Mr. Matthews’ three-page essay already had its answer.
Maya Hart, in her infinite wisdom, had decided that the best statement against homework was simply… not doing it. Because what better way to prove her point than with an invisible essay? Revolutionary. Avant-garde. Hart-tistic.
But, as always, the simplicity of her plans never lasted long. She was midway through a bite of gloriously cheesy macaroni when an unwelcome visitor named 'conscience' decided to show up. Riley.
Riley Matthews was the best person in the universe. Sweet, generous, endlessly optimistic, and a never-ending source of hope—a ray of sunshine in a world full of clouds. And Maya… well, Maya knew she was none of those things. She was more of a 'cloud with a chance of acid rain' type.
Riley shone like the sun, and she was the shadow that followed the light. And that was okay because someone had to do it. Riley needed someone to ground her, to nudge her into being braver, and Maya had gladly taken on that role.
But there was a problem. Riley didn’t just admire her; she wanted to be her.
Maya set her plate down on the table and rested her chin on her hand, her expression reflecting the kind of philosophical crisis she usually reserved for after 10 PM. She could never say no to Riley. She never could. If Riley wanted to be like her, Maya would do whatever it took to make it happen.
But… at what cost? Because the thought of Riley losing her brightness, her kindness, of becoming something more cynical or less sweet, was something Maya simply couldn’t bear.
Somehow, she had to make sure Riley stayed Riley, even if it meant being her example instead of her role model.
"Great, Hart. Now you’re Socrates with mac and cheese," she muttered to herself with a bitter chuckle.
The homework notebook kept staring at her from the table, a silent reminder of everything she wasn’t doing. Instead of facing it, she grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, determined to distract herself with something that didn’t require too much thinking.
But the distraction lasted about a minute because her mind had other plans. And those plans involved a Texan accent, a pair of relaxed eyes, and a smile that clearly came with an instruction manual for dismantling emotional defenses.
Lucas Friar.
Maya tried not to think about him. She really did. But her brain, that traitor, kept replaying every detail of the afternoon: the way Lucas talked, walked, existed… Ugh, what an annoyingly potent skill that boy had.
Something about him had caught her attention, but it wasn’t like she was going to admit that out loud. The worst part was, she knew she shouldn’t even be thinking about him. Riley had seen him first (well, technically she had, but who cares about technicalities?), and Riley had talked about him in an excited whisper. Riley deserved him, not her.
Besides, it was obvious he was a good guy, and good guys went with good girls. Bad girls? They didn’t deserve anything good.
With a huff, Maya closed her eyes and shook her head as if she could physically force him out of her mind.
Out. Not allowed. End of discussion.
She turned off the TV, left the empty plate on the table, and dragged herself to her room, collapsing onto her bed like someone who’d had enough of the world for one day. She grabbed her old childhood pillow—the one that probably didn’t meet basic hygiene standards anymore but somehow still felt like her safe haven.
The guilt of not doing her homework didn’t bother her in the slightest. But the thought of being a bad influence on Riley… that did. Still, as always, that was a problem for 'future Maya'. She closed her eyes, allowing herself a few moments of peace before slipping into a deep sleep.
