The world is a place full of questions- like, why did Riley agree to this, and why does Maya have the keys to the school, and why are they spending the first night of summer vacation in the exact place that they’ve just been granted immunity from for three months, but right now, the most pressing question of all is mostly “Would you kiss the last person you texted?”
Truth or dare, that’s right, folks. The night is humid and fuzzy and buzzing with the adolescent ecstasy of nothing being bad enough to linger in the air on a night where they’re all together and laughing and smiling, and everything is almost exactly how it’s supposed to be, and really, what more can anyone ask for?
And, stupid as it is, the night is already half nostalgic memory as it happens, and part of Riley’s brain can’t help but admit that if this is the best that life ever, ever gets for her, she can’t complain.
Maybe she should have higher standards, but she can’t possibly imagine anything being better than this, and if she stayed fifteen and idle forever, right now she wouldn’t be opposed, and so when someone offers up truth or dare (no one remembers who, though) she can’t help but agree to the proposition of another idyllic movie moment to collect and keep in her pocket as she swears this is the best night of her life.
Maya crosses her arms in the soft light of the highschool lobby and considers deeply for just a moment. “Yes,” She shrugs, simple and confident, and after the initial curious grins of teenagers with wide imaginations, a ringing exclamation of prove it leaves her eyes rolling.
“I didn’t say it was anyone here, did I?” She challenges with a mysterious grin, and then goes on: “Besides, it’s my turn now.” Her eyes scan the group for her weakest victim, easiest to torment, and then they land on- “Farkle! Truth or dare?”
She’s grinning; he’s not. Riley lets out a giggle, and what could be better than this, than a summer world that’s dreamy and kind?
“Truth,” Farkle squeaks, leaning back and wincing. Wrong move.
Maya leans in with crossed arms. “Dare,” She corrects with a snarl that is somehow kind at the same time, which could just as easily sum up all that Maya is, in Riley’s opinion.
“Maya, I’m so young,” He whimpers helplessly, but all it takes is a tilt of her head and her eyebrows going up a little for him to crumble completely, so he just asks for mercy, instead.
She pauses thoughtfully; she hadn’t planned this far ahead. Riley doesn’t blame her- it’s not a night for planning things. It’s a night for talking too loud and trembling hands even though it’s warm out and walking with force in your step that doesn’t need to be there and energy tangling in short breaths and standing under streetlights like a spotlight. The only time anyone tries to prove anything to the world is when it’s kind enough to not fight back, and Riley wonders if this is how Maya feels when she describes the burning and pounding in her chest that leaves her at Riley’s window at three in the morning with pounding that’s too loud and miles of pacing yet to be complete with a restlessness that lingers in her knuckles.
Maya says something, and Riley almost misses it. “We’ll start easy tonight,” She says, and it comes out in a lilting hum that makes Riley smile softly- the only thing soft about the night besides the lighting. “Pool,” Maya shrugs, “go for it. Clothed. Or, actually, unclothed, if you want. Either is hilarious.”
Farkle groans, but everyone knows that it could be so much worse- it’s Maya they’re talking about. Farkle should be thanking the stars and the air and the space that the worst he has to do is jump into the school’s pool.
Maya takes in lead and no one is surprised, because on summer nights where everyone’s heart is beating too fast, who could take the lead but a blonde girl who swears she’s only calm when her whole world is spinning? Riley thinks it all make a lot of sense, if only because the sun doesn’t have to ever rise yet, so anything makes sense if she says so, and it’s magical and powerful all at once, and she likes it. She really does.
With a click of the push-open doors that look far too heavy for Maya to open, they are all in the pool. It’s lit only by the lights under the water, reflecting blue wave shadows over the walls. Moonlight trickles in, too, and it is exactly the way Riley believes it should be.
“Go,” Maya says, short and sweet and with a grin, and Farkle sighs, entirely resigned to the commitment of the night. Could he bail? Yes. He absolutely could. Nobody would actually do anything. They would just move on. But it would break the integrity of the night, and ruin whatever bond and unspoken agreement that had formed between them all, solid and buzzing like static. Farkle wouldn’t do that, not ever, and the night was too good to ruin, and so, with a quick count down and some perfect cheering, he takes a fully clothed running leap into the pool, and Riley swears water hits the ceiling.
“Eight out of ten!” Lucas calls out in good nature, but Riley thinks he did better than that, even. Farkle climbs out of the pool, dripping and faking a frown, but he is triumphant and everyone feels invincible enough that it doesn’t matter, and they all feel like they should be marching through the streets and spinning on their heels and shouting at the top of their lungs or something, but instead, Riley announces that she’s going to grab something from the vending machine while everyone else sits down, forming the familiar circle of sitting teenagers that lingers in anyone’s highschool memories just the same.
Wordlessly, Maya follows Riley out the door and down the hall, and everything is so much quieter, and the light goes from cool colors to warm tones very quickly, but Riley doesn’t mind so much.
Neither of them speak, really, because the dynamic has shifted, and it is no longer the boisterous infallible gleam of a group of adolescents, but the hum of two people who are somewhere closer to honest around each other, and nobody wants that on a night where everything is clashing and hard like tonight.
She leans against the wall as Riley gets a pack of skittles and Maya just looks up with bright, burning eyes and a contented grin and Riley can’t help but stare for a minute, because Maya really looks happy, and it’s perfect.
Because some force of the universe seems to demand it, Riley says she needs to fix her hair, and drags Maya with her into the bathroom closest to the pool, the burning smell of chlorine lingering and stinging Riley’s eyes.
Maya leans against the wall and she’s uncharacteristically quiet, especially on a night that feels like it was crafted for her specifically, and it makes Riley wonder, but she says nothing, and instead just rips the top off of her Skittles packet and pops one in her mouth. (By now, she’s forgotten about the ‘fixing her hair’ thing. Who knows? Maybe she just wanted to be alone with Maya a little longer.)
“Give me one,” Maya says suddenly, perking up at the sight of sugar, and, in the heavy air, Riley laughs.
“I paid for it, get your own,” She says, and she wouldn’t say this any other night, and yet here they are.
Maya pauses, taken aback. Then she takes a few steps forward, getting much closer to Riley, allowing Riley to realize two things: A, it’s quite hot, really, even if she is shaking, and B, Maya is a lot shorter than her.
“That’s not very nice,” Maya squares her shoulders and glares. “Just give me some, c’mon,” She pushes, and it’s almost a whine even if not quite, and that makes Riley smile, because the tiny girl whining over candy is the same girl who scared a boy much taller than her into doing a dare not long ago.
Everything is fuzzy and dizzy when Riley challenges, “Get one yourself,” holding them high above her head.
Maya bites her lip, blush forming across her cheeks and making Riley take quick notice of her freckles. They’re so, so close together- they’re almost touching. Inches, maybe. How did they get this close? Why is everything ringing in their ears? Why is it so foggy and warm?
“You’re like, five feet tall. How’re you gonna reach me, shortie?” Riley smirks, but she’s sure she stumbled over a word or two, and so she pops another skittle in her mouth with a smile.
Maya pauses, and just as Riley thinks she’s got her beat, Maya does as she’s told, and gets one herself- the one in Riley's mouth. She presses her lips against Riley’s own, and their foreheads bump but they don’t feel it, and Riley feels her shoulders hit the mirror and Maya’s lips on her own and her tongue in her mouth with their noses pressed together, but absolutely nothing else, because the whole world has come to a strange detached state as Maya presses forward even though Riley’s back is already against the wall and there isn’t anywhere left to go.
It’s beautiful and clumsy and messy, and neither of them has done this before, but there’s no place Riley would rather do it than a smoke screen wistful night full of blurry warm light and tangled blonde hair and somehow, somehow, they find their hands tangled in one another, and nobody ever thought the night would end up like this, and neither of them ever want it to end, which makes it all so bitter even though they don’t realize in the moment, ‘cause it’s got to end, right? That’s always how it works.
And then they pull apart and come down from an adrenaline high as their hearts pound into their rib cages and threaten to creep up into their throats, and they don’t say anything at all.
It’s all awkward and fumbling and quiet mutters about how they should get back, and then Maya just starts to laugh. It’s a sleepless laugh, hysterical and half gone, but it’s a laugh nonetheless, and then the air around them breaks a little, because if she’s laughing, then it could be worse, right? It doesn’t have to be all bittersweet silence or anything, because it’s weird and they know it, so after a little laughing and fingernails digging into their jeans, they can move on, and it didn’t really happen or anything, right?
They stumble out of the bathroom and make their way back to the pool, and Riley’s hair is messier than before they left and neither of them remembered the skittles, still sitting on the bathroom floor. Maya demands they leave immediately.
No one wants to argue with her when they can tell that her chest is shaking, so they follow along through the streets, loud and alone and unconquerable, and Riley has never been more confused, but she smiles and acts like it’s nothing and it’s fine anyways, because it’s not really even that hard, so she manages alright.
Somewhere around 3:45 in the morning they find themselves sitting next to the dumpster behind an old convenience store, surrounded by energy drinks and bad ideas, and they are all empty in an elated way, and too tired to worry in the same way that they’re too tired to sleep, and Riley’s eyes haven’t left Maya the entire fucking time.
With their eyes all focused on a sliver of the sky, Maya announces that the sun is not going to rise, and that it is going to be like this forever, and even though very quickly everything has become scary and confusing and different, Riley is half convinced Maya is looking at her, and so she believes her with everything in her body, and nothing is so wrong.
She takes a step to the side and leans her head against Riley’s shoulder.
In a wasteland of stupid teenage feelings and the best people Riley’s ever known, with everything coming oddly full circle and adrenaline dying down, the sun does not come up.