"And if you have a minute, why don't we go talk about it somewhere only we know?"
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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...
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𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚊'𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚟
"So, go on. Talk." I say, my eyes meeting his. My arms are still crossed in front of my chest, a desperate act of holding myself together.
"I'm sorry," He mutters.
I bite my bottom lip, he's apologizing. And he does it in a normal manner. And it is breaking my heart.
"For what exactly? Breaking my trust, and in turn my heart? Or do you only mean that you got caught?"
Lance's eyes search for mine again, "Maya, I know that I screwed up. But I swear nothing happened between Natalia and I."
"I saw the pictures with my own eyes. I saw how happy you looked with her, how you were smiling and laughing, how you were so comfortable with her. Don't insult my intelligence by trying to deny it."
The smile might not have been as bright as when he picked me up from the Japanese airport, it was still bright.
"I know it looked bad, but I swear there was nothing going on between her and I. It was a stunt," Lance pleads with me, his eyes full of regret and scanning my composure for any sign of forgiveness.
"How can I believe you, Lance? You have a history of sleeping around, you have a history of sleeping with Natalia, and now these photos come out. How am I supposed to just trust you on your words?" I ask him, feeling the tears well up in my eyes. "It is not your first time around her, not even your second time..."
"I understand that I made mistakes in the past, Maya. But I swear to you, I haven't been with anyone else since we kissed for the first time," Lance says. "I promise you that I didn't have sex with her."
I take a deep breath, trying to calm the rising anger inside my chest. I want to believe him, but it's hard to shake off the feeling of betrayal.
"How am I supposed to trust you? You keep ignoring my question, Lance. How! Tell me how?!"
Lance runs a hand through his hair, frustration etched on his face, "I know it's hard to believe but it's the truth. My dad..."
"It is always your dad! God, Lance, learn to own your actions! Learn that they have consequences!" I raise my voice, pain etched in the undertones.
"I didn't realize how bad it looked until it was too late. It was a stunt, it was marketing for Modern Muse Hotels & Yachts."
"Didn't realize how bad it looked?" I repeat his words. "She kissed you, for fuck sake! You had lipstick all over you, and a hickey in your neck! How good could that have looked?"
