sweater weather ↠ markle

six ↠ the break down

Maya's P.O.V.

High School is a breeding ground for the horny teenagers mother nature decides to throw together. All throughout the day, all I could see was the lines of teens mushing their faces together with no consideration towards the passerby's that were forced to watch their filth. I could feel the bile rumbling in my stomach as each pair seemed to devour each other, forcing myself to look away before the entire hallway was covered in vomit.

"Jesus, has anyone ever heard of coming up for air?" I mumbled beneath my breath, stalking by and heading to my fourth period class, the sweater finally out of my mind. 

Farkle hadn't tried to talk to me since this morning, and a part of myself felt pure and utter victory in this back and forth battle, but another part of me felt something I couldn't quite explain. I knew I had been harsh to the guy, borderline manic, but the longer that sweater floated around me, the quicker I had begun to lose my mind.

I tried not to think of him for the rest of the day, wanting just a few hours of mental silence before the wave of rumors and questions that was bound to flood the school hit.

This place was large, nearly four thousand students to count, but we were a fishbowl, swarming with secrets that the sharks loved to eat right up. But why was I worried? Nothing secretive had happened, if you didn't count the note from an old not-friend. There was nothing for the sharks of John Adams High School to hold over me—  except there was.

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Fourth period flew like a breeze, though to be fair, I had slept through most of it. Mr. James usually didn't care, knowing I was some sort of a lost cause when it came to convincing me that his class was actually worth heeding in on— I mean, come on, who the hell payed attention during Arts and Humanity? It was far too much humanity and not enough art for my liking. 

The second that bell ran through class, most of the students were dashing out of the door, racing to their lockers so they could hop in their cars and leave this place for the night. I stayed behind, taking my time to put my things away— the school's parking lot was nearly impossible to escape on Monday afternoons, so I decided to let the chaos ensue and make my get away after the stampede was over.

Once I thought most of the school had vanished, I made the leisurely stroll to my truck, humming a soft tune beneath my breath. My mood had significantly lifted since the release of that damned sweater, but I could still feel the aching in my fingers from clutching it over the weekend.

Boot-clad feet stepped up into the rust bucket that I tend to refer to as my truck, pushing the key into start. I expected it to roar to life, just as it usually had, but the engine merely rolled over, groaning to a stop. Hands moved to start once more, but this time it didn't even try. The sudden realization of what was happening hit me, eyes jumping back to see that nearly every car in the parking lot was gone, including the one that belonged to the son of the mechanic  that usually helped me start this piece of shit.

"Jesus Christ," a groan emitted from my lips as I slammed my head against the steering wheel, not even caring about the horn that blared for a moment. I was debating on whether or not it was worth it to hop out and walk to the train station— I was bound to freeze in my long sleeve shirt and thin jacket, seeing as it was around a three-mile walk to the nearest one. It was only then that I heard the gentle knock against my window. Snapping up to gaze upon the trespasser, yet another groan sounded from me. Minkus.

I rolled down the window, my gaze more annoyed than angry. "Look, if this is about the stupid sweater, I could really care less." The words hissed from my lips, and I caught the shy, worried expression on his face.

"No, no I get it, you don't want it..." The boy seemed to be choosing his words carefully. Good choice. "I just.. I heard your truck die, and the horn. I... I was wondering if you wanted a ride home.  It kinda looks like you need it." His eyes flickered between mine and the dead engine, his hands up in surrender. I moved to speak, but he cut me off. "I can call you a tow truck, or we could leave it here for the night, but no one else is here and I don't see any way else of you getting home today."

Silence flooded over me for a moment, contemplation whirling in my mind. He was wrong— I did have other ways of getting home, but most included a long trek through New York's frozen winter, one I was sure would leave me in a state that closely resembled a Popsicle.

Farkle waded again. "I'm not trying to give you anything, other than a ride, and it's not charity. I would do it for anyone. Just, please, consider it... My car has heat, by the way." His eyes glanced down to my hands, which I hadn't noticed were shaking until now. I shoved them in my jacket pockets, heaving a sigh as I looked back at him. His blue eyes were piercing into a place in my soul that I'd rather not speak of.

My options were shit, it seemed. But out of them all, Minkus' car seemed to be the best. So, pulling my keys from the engine and hopping down from my seat, I grabbed my bag and slammed the door. I couldn't afford a tow truck, so it'd have to stay here for the night. Turning back to him, I gave a stern, but defeated look. "This doesn't mean anything, Farkle."

The boy seemed to light up like a Christmas tree, immediately jumping to lead me to his car. The silver Lexus— it was the bane of my existence. 

↠

well, it's been a month, but here's the new chapter! i was trying to figure out how to merge this little idea into the story without overall forcing it, so i hope i did a good job?

this is the first little moment that maya starts giving into farkle--- did you notice she said farkle instead of minkus in that last bit of dialogue? that's kind of a big deal for her.

but yeah i hope you liked this! i have a feeling i'll have a lot more muse for the next chapter seeing i know how i want it to go!

don't forget to like, comment, and vote!

- dani <3