The grocery bags had laid there half forgotten since yesterday on the kitchen counter, a bunch of bananas dangerously close to tipping over the edge, but neither of them cared. Maya was pacing in her cozy slippers, her hoodie slightly slanting, with wild eyes and a voice that was halfway between a groan and a confession.
Sienna, was perched like a queen on the kitchen stool with a bowl of popcorn on her lap, said, "Okay. Start again. Slowly. Because I swear you just said Logan Hayes kissed you, and then you ran off like some Victorian damsel in a corset too tight for her lungs."
Maya groaned again, covering her face with her hands as if shielding herself from the memory.
"I panicked, Si. I panicked. One second we were arguing, the next we were kissing like we were in some steamy Regency novel and he was the brooding Duke and I was the scandalously independent heroine who says she hates him but really wants to climb him like a tree."
"Ohhh," Sienna sang, drawing out the world with a devilish grin, "so that kind of kiss."
Maya let her arms drop glared half-heartedly. "Shut up."
"Nope. Absolutely not. I've been waiting for this moment." She popped a kernel into her mouth. "And then you ran."
"I didn't mean to," Maya grumbled. "It was just too much. He kissed me like he meant it. Like he'd been holding back for centuries. And it just...scrambled my brain."
Sienna snorted. "Sis, your brain's been scrambled since he walked into your life pretending he didn't know Shakespeare from SpongeBob. And now look at you, soft knees, tangled thoughts and this glow."
"I am not glowing."
"Girl, please. You're practically radioactive." She leaned forward, voice giddy with anticipation. "And then what? What happened after your dramatic rooftop exit?"
Maya grabbed her phone from the counter, and unlocked it, and shoved it in front of Sienna's face.
Sienna read the message and blinked. And then choked on her kernel.
" 'You can run away, but you'll still be mine!' Oh my God. Oh my God. Who writes this stuff? Who is this man?"
Maya snatched the phone back and clutched it to her chest. "I don't know! He was all growly and confident and possessive and I swear my ovaries almost staged a mutiny."
Sienna was full-on howling now, slapping her thigh and laughing with reckless abandon. "I told you! I told you this man was unhinged in the most attractive, villainous love-interest kind of way! And you-" she pointed accusingly "-you judged him so hard."
"I had to!" Maya shot back, flushing as she reached for the popcorn to distract herself. "He had a reputation, Sienna."
"Well, now he's got your lip gloss on his mouth and a one-liner that belongs in a smutty fanfic." She leaned in dramatically. "Maya. sweetie. You are already in it."
Maya sank into the stool beside her, tossing a handful of popcorn into her mouth. "What if I'm losing my mind?"
"Oh, honey, you already did. Around week three. You just didn't know it yet."
They laughed together, the kind of laughter that tumbled easily between best friends, the kind that made everything feel just a little less terrifying.
But even as they giggled and mocked, Maya's heart beat wildly beneath the surface because Logan had kissed her like he was claiming her. And Maya wasn't entirely sure she wanted to be his.
---
In the evening, the rain had begun to fall lightly outside, misting the windows and softening the scape of their environment into a watercolor blur. Inside their apartment, Maya sat curled up on the couch in leggings and an oversized sweater, a cup of half-drunk tea cradled in her palms. Her Literature textbook lay open on her lap, but she hadn't turned a page in twenty minutes.
Because her phone kept buzzing.
And every time it did, her stomach flipped.
Logan Hayes
Skipping campus today, sunshine? You know I don't like to be stood up.
Sent 10:03 a.m.
Logan Hayes
Fine. I'll play nice. For now.
Sent 1:04 p.m.
Maya hadn't replied. Not once. But that didn't stop him.
Because in between the texts, he was still finding ways to get to her.
When she reached into her bookbag yesterday afternoon to pull out a random poetry anthology, she found a small, folded piece of parchment tucked between the pages like a secret.
She hadn't put it there. But she knew exactly who had.
In the neat sharp script that was unmistakably Logan's, it read:
"You might be able to outrun me Maya. But you'll never outrun the way I make you feel."
And just below it, there was a line she recognized from Byron: "There is a pleasure in the pathless woods."
Maya closed the book with a frustrated sigh and tossed it gently onto the coffee table. Her heart was a storm-confused, needy, terrified, and burning. And worst of all, she missed him.
She missed that damn smirk of his. The way he leaned in too close when she explained something simple just to watch her squirm. The way his voice dipped dangerously low when he was teasing, like he knew he was her weakness.
She missed the way he kissed her.
The press of his mouth. The pull of his hands at her waist and the dominating hunger.
"You're doing it again," Sienna's voice piped up from the kitchen, where she was stirring pasta with the casual flair of someone entirely unbothered. "You're making that tortured heroine face. Like a Jane Austen character but with better skincare."
Maya rolled her eyes and flopped sideways on the couch. "Let me pretend I didn't hear that. Plus, I'm not tortured."
"You're definitely tortured," Sienna replied, chuckling. "All sighs and unread textbooks and a quiet longing over a guy who texts like a villain from a mafia movie."
Maya groaned again into a throw pillow. "He's just relentless."
"And you like it," Sienna teased, pointing a wooden spoon at her dramatically.
Maya opened her mouth to argue but she didn't
Because the truth was she did like it. Too much. More than she wanted to admit out loud.
The truth was that Logan had managed to slip under her skin with his charms and his reckless intensity. He wasn't perfect in fact, he was far from perfect. But he made her feel alive in a way that sacred her more than any midterm ever could.
Her phone buzzed again.
One more text.
Logan Hayes
Sweet dreams, Sunshine. Try not to think about my mouth. Or my hands. Or what we both know you're craving.
Sent 7:32 p.m.
Maya dropped the phone like it had burned.
Then immediately picked it back up and stared at the message again, her heart thundering in her chest.
She was in so much trouble.
But wasn't it the sweetest kind?