midnight. [lucaya]

The Subway

Funny story this was actually my first fic in this fandom about a year ago.

The story is set further in the future they'd be about 20 or so in their junior year of college.

Rating T: some mild language and implications

Words: 1,496

In which Maya Hart plays matchmaker for Lucas Friar but he has no intention of scoring

"So, here's the thing."

Startled Lucas Friar looked up from the map he'd been pursuing and was met with the most piercing blue eyes he'd ever seen.

"I like you."

"Is that so?" He asked more impressed than surprised by her forwardness.

She blinked taking in the deep, country accent that was obvious in the three words he'd spoken to her.

Wow, pretty boy just got that much prettier.

She plopped down into the vacant seat next to him. "But I'm not supposed to like you and that's why I'm here pretending to chat you up for my friend over there." She motioned to a spot ahead of them.

A quick glance revealed a pretty brunette trying to unsuccessfully hide her face behind a curtain of long hair.

Cute, but not his type.

"Who says you're not allowed to like me?" He asked curious to know what brought her to this conclusion.

"I do." She answered.

Curiouser and curiouser.

"And may I ask why that is darling?"

She blushed prettily at his pet name before whispering, "Because I'm me and you're you and we're never going to work."

I'm me and you're you

What did she mean by that? In his opinion, she looked like a normal girl. Except she dressed a little edgier, her boots cementing her look-at-me-and-i'll-fuck-you-up image. Unlike her friend over there who looked like a flower had thrown up all over her closet. Her fingernails weren't painted which suggested either she was really busy or she worked with her hands so painting her nails wasn't worth it.

The little splashes of paint on her clothing suggested she was an artist that even a smock couldn't contain.

You're you

He glanced down at himself, there was nothing wrong with him and he certainly didn't feel superior to her, or anybody else for that matter. Sure he was in need of a haircut but his shirt was pressed, his jeans were starched and his boots were both shiny and pointy.

He wasn't wearing his hat because it made him standout, he'd learned the hard way that in New York it was best to be invisible.

New York was not Texas.

Unless she knew who he was, in which case this conversation was over.

He gave her another once over, it was interesting, he hadn't pegged her as insecure, or maybe he'd misjudged the two friends and the roles were indeed reversed.

Taking his time he folded up the map he'd been studying and watched her squirm until finally, he looked up.

"It's impolite not to make eye contact," he extended his hand and gently touched her chin being careful not to spook her. "Not to mention it says a lot about your character."

Her eyes flared with anger, "My character is just fine thank you. Look I have to go, just be nice to Riley and I won't mess up that pretty face of yours."