"And if you have a minute, why don't we go talk about it somewhere only we know?"
-
Maya Beaulieu, born and raised in Montreal, has heard the stories about Lance Stroll, the boy who grew up down the street of where she lived. All the reason to stay...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Maya sits outside when I run towards her, she is scribbling in her notebook, and I can just catch a small glimpse of her handwriting before she closes it.
"Hey," I say as I take a seat in front of her.
"Hi Lance," She puts her pen down and looks at me. I am startled by the way she looks; bags under her eyes, a pale skin, her curls in a messy bun. And I can't help but notice the weariness across her face.
It was easy to say that sleep has become a long-lost friend for Maya.
"Are you okay?"
She nods, slowly and I would say just a bit uncontrolled, "I am tired. I haven't been sleeping much."
"I can tell," I say.
"If you're here to insult me, you can just go again."
"I'm not here for that."
"Then why are you here, Lance?"
"Because I wanted to see you."
She rolls her eyes, "Are you sure about that? Because to me it looks more like you want to avoid me ever since I told you about... about the..." Her words get stuck in her throat and I quickly shake my head. Her caramel coloured eyes become glossy, as she turns to look away from me.
"No, no, Maya. I don't want to avoid you. My dad is really planning all my evenings and nights. He's afraid I am with different girls every night instead of in the park."
I don't want to upset her, or to see her upset. And I genuinely like hanging around with her.
"Why don't you go on a hike with me? Doesn't have to be long, maybe just to the treehouse and back."
"I think it is better if I just stay here."
I look at her confused, but she refuses to meet my gaze, "What?"
Maya sighs, and she looks up to the sky for a few seconds before she looks at me, "I looked forward to the sunsets with you. And you've been avoiding me ever since I told you—"
"No, please, Maya," I say, interrupting her. "It really has been my dad. He doesn't believe I am in the park, he thinks I am with other women every evening."
Maya mutters something under her breath, but I can't hear what she said. I just raise an eyebrow, a silent request to have her repeat what she muttered.
"It's nothing, Lance. I'm just tired." Her voice is cold, and distant. Just like it had been in the first few days of watching the sunsets.
If we're going back to old habits, fine.
"You know," I begin, my tone slightly teasing. "If you're feeling that tired, I could always help you relax."
Maya rolls her eyes, but I can see the small smile tugging at the corner of her lips, "I highly doubt you have any magical powers when it comes to putting people to sleep, so don't flatter yourself."
