Maya - The Novel

A smile appeared on her lips. "I just needed some time to think about things."

I tucked a strand of loose curls behind her ear, feeling some of the tension ease. "Okay."

She caught my hand before I could pull away and kissed the inside of my palm. "Would you kiss me again, Gray?"

She didn't have to ask me twice.

#

Chapter 9

So, here's a rough summary of what came out of our time in my office: date #2. Well, I wasn't sure if I could call it a date. I'd invited her to sit in on an open FREE NYC meeting Friday night - it was a weekly session I ran to touch base with the teens who attended the center. Most of these kids were homeless, addicts or came from bad homes. We try to help every kid that comes through our doors but a good handful of them refuse to be housed in a shelter - I'm sure they have their reasons.

Connie, the director of the West Side center had put me in charge of the 16-19 age group because, apparently, I was the most "relatable" person. I think that meant I looked like a reformed misfit... true, I guess.

Our Friday meetings were a way for me to check up on them and ensure they get a good meal. I also usually texted each of them a few times a week to see how things were going - if they didn't text me first.

They were good kids that genuinely reminded me of myself at their age. In my fifteen years at FREE NYC, I'd seen many of these kids push themselves out of their situation - many even came back to volunteer at the center, which was always appreciated. We needed any help we could get.

I unlocked the back entrance to the center that Friday, dressed in my usual jeans and flannel. I'd paid special attention to my hair, shaving the sides down as neatly as I possibly could.

"Gray, you got a smoke?"

I started as Lloyd, a seventeen-year-old kid from Harlem, detached himself from the shadows. Lloyd had big dreams of being a rapper - the only problem was that there weren't many effeminate black gay rappers in the industry.

"You scared me, man," I said, propping a rock against the foot of the door to keep it open. "And no, turn eighteen and ask me again."

"Aww, come on."

I shot him a look that shut him up.

"There's food inside so help yourself. Lasagna this week."

"Yaaaas! Connie's lasagnas are the bomb."

He did a little twirl as he brushed past me and headed down the stairs to the basement rec room. A second later, he popped his head around the corner.

"Dude, I met someone who knows you. You know an Ash? Probably short for Ashley but looks like she'll rip my dick off if I called her that? About your height, dreads, crazy mad all the time?"

My chest tightened as I nodded. "Yeah, I know her. Been a while, though."

"Well, she said to say hi if I saw you. So hi!" He drew out the word and gave me an exaggerated wave with a swing of his hips.

I swallowed thickly, feeling anxiety creep up my throat. "Great, thanks. Go get your lasagna."

He shrugged and walked away. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Ash. Jesus, I could still feel the impact of her heavy boot on my chest. My breath caught as the memory resurfaced. I leaned against the door, trying to steady myself.

"You okay, Gray?"

Micky, a sixteen-year-old with bright pink hair, laid a hand on my arm. Behind her were several others in the group. They all looked concerned as they watched me. I nodded and forced a smile.

"I'll be down in a minute," I said through clenched teeth.

They filed past and I let out a deep breath, feeling a little bit of normalcy return. I pushed the memory away, refusing to be assaulted by the past yet again. I didn't have time for it. I had kids to speak to.

Was that unhealthy? Maybe. But just... I couldn't deal with it right now.

I checked the time again. It was just past seven. I could see others walking towards the center. The one person I didn't see was Maya.

I dropped her a quick text. I'd told her to be on time as I had to lock the doors from the inside once everyone was there - one of our safety protocols.

Ten minutes later, when I didn't hear anything back from her, I shut the door and locked it, trying to keep the frustration off my face. Should I have expected her not to turn up?

*

It was a good session - the kids seemed to be coping better. Micky had even found a new job, which put her that much closer to a flatshare. I was glad. The meeting had started with Lloyd cracking a dad joke that set the mood.

Why do white girls only come in odd numbers?

Because they can't even.

Let's not debate how politically correct the joke was or how inappropriately hard I'd laughed at it.

But it had helped me take my mind off things. Even as I spoke to the kids, a paranoid fear lingered in my mind. Also, anger. I considered this the second time she'd let me down.

As I packed up the leftover lasagna for the kids to take home after the session, I could hear students from the University milling around outside. The center rented out its rec room on Friday nights after ten for a salsa social group - we didn't charge much for it but every penny counted. As the students filed in, I balanced a tray in each hand, hoping that someone would hold the door open for me on the way out.

"Gray!" Lloyd called from the stairs. "There's someone here to see you."

I looked over my shoulder to see Maya entering the room hesitantly, her jacket buttoned to the top and a knitted grey scarf tied tightly around her neck. She waved at me from across the room while Lloyd stood behind her making appreciative gestures of her figure.

"I'm sorry I was late. I couldn't leave the house until my mother left for the airport."

"It's fine," I said, setting the trays down on the foldable tables. "You missed everything though."

She sniffled. The tip of her nose was an alarming red.

"Are you sick?"

She shook her head, reaching into her bag for tissues. "No, I've just been standing outside for two hours."

"What! Why didn't you just text me?"

"I did but it didn't go through."

I fished my phone out of my pocket - true enough, there wasn't any signal in the basement. I instantly felt like shit. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. You didn't have to wait out in the cold."

"It's fine. I wanted to see you."

Just as she said that, loud salsa music played from the portable speakers the students had brought along with them. The lights dimmed.

"What's happening?" Maya yelled over the music.

"It's a salsa social," I explained, grabbing the trays again to get out of their way.

"Really?" She watched, fascinated, as dancers picked their partners and effortlessly spun into the beat. "That's so cool. I've never actually seen salsa dancing in person before."

"For real?" I couldn't keep the surprise out of my voice.

"Yeah, just on TV. It looks fun though." She watched the dancers intently as we crossed the rec room towards the exit.

Lloyd still hovered in the doorway.

"Here," I said, handing him the trays. "Bring these up to Connie for me, will ya?"

"Sure. You're not leaving?"

"No." I turned to Maya. "I'm going to teach my girl here how to salsa."

"What!" Maya said with a laugh. "You can't be serious."

Instead of replying, I bowed low and asked for her hand.

"Well, okay then." She seemed unsure as she placed her hand in mine. "Just go slow, okay?"

"I always do." I winked as I pulled her close.

She laughed softly, turning slightly pink in embarrassment.

"Okay," I said, getting down to business. "I'll lead. You just have to follow and try not to step on me. All right?"

She bit her lip. "I can promise to try..."

I twirled her quickly and let her settle at half an arm's length. "Left foot forward, then back together. Now right foot back, then back together. There we go."

"It's repetitive?" she asked, eyes down and brows furrowed in concentration.

"For now. You don't have to follow the music, sweetheart." The beat was speeding up, way more than what I could teach her right now.

"Oh good," she breathed. "I was starting to worry."

"Now," I said as she stepped back. "I'm going to spin you. Keep your footing, okay? You'll fall back to the rhythm again."

It took a few tries but she managed to spin right back to me on the third. "There we go," I said, steadying her with a hand on her waist. "Good job."

"Was it really?" she asked with an arch of her brow.

"Yeah, you can only get better from here. Now, again."

I don't think she was expecting it. She fell back against me with a puff of breath.

"Sorry," she said as I led her back to the steps. "How'd you get so good anyway?"

"Just practice. My mom taught me when I was younger."

"Your mom was a dancer?" she asked, her eyes focused on her feet again.

"Yes and no. She was the best salsa dancer I ever knew. But no, she didn't dance for a living. She always said that salsa was the perfect judge for any man."

"I'm sure you've tested that theory out," she teased.

"Oh, yes. I'm a man-eater. Beware."

She chuckled at my dry tone.

"What was her name? Your mother's?"

I twirled her again before pulling her close.

"Her name was Maria Cristina Grayson. She took my dad's last name."

She thought about it for a second. "So your-"

"No, my first name isn't Gray. It's Adrianna. Adrianna Grayson."

"Adrianna," she said to herself, testing the name on her tongue, rolling the "r" the way it's meant to sound. "It's very pretty."

"Thank you, cariña. It's been a while since someone called me that." I paused. "Okay, now, side step. Mirror me."

She fell into the rhythm with me, her hips coming into play when she got more comfortable with the steps. Gorgeous. She was laughing, too, her joy present on her lips with every step, every twirl. Strands of her curls had escaped and now framed her flushed face. Soon, we were actually keeping up with the quick beats from the speakers. Granted, we were just mimicking the simpler steps, but it was a great start. I couldn't wait to teach her the more complex ones - and I couldn't wait for her to learn the shimmy, but that would just be for my pleasure.

It was true what they said - dancing was just like riding a bike. You never forget the steps, the way your body has been trained to move. Especially salsa, one of my earliest memories of Mama. She danced for everything, in the kitchen, doing laundry, vacuuming the house. Our little haphazard one-bedroom flat had never lacked music, be it old school Latin or hip-hop numbers from the Eighties.

I miss her.

Maya's hands tightened on mine, pulling my gaze back to her. I'd been running on autopilot for a few minutes and her brows were furrowed with concern. So I smiled, spun her halfway around and pulled her back against me, our hands entwined, my cheek against her curls.

She tilted her head upwards and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. Reassuring, comforting.

"Get a room, damn!"

I turned to find Lloyd still standing in the doorway of the rec room with a bunch of others from the group. They had the cheekiest smiles on their faces.

I untangled myself from Maya.

"What're you still doing here?" I crossed my arms in front of my chest and raised a brow.

"Oh, cut it out, Gray," Micky chimed in, pushing her pink bangs out of her eyes. "That bull dyke daddy act ain't gonna scare us. We already know you're a big softy on the inside."

I rolled my eyes.

"We just wanted to check out your new bae," Carla, a blonde girl with long cornrows, commented. I'd known Carla for almost three years and she'd never taken an interest in my love life before. "You know, so she doesn't steal your handsome tattoo shop fortune."

Before I could respond, Maya retorted: "I think I already have half her fortune, especially with the rates that I charge."

They all blinked at her, taken aback, but the mischief in her eyes was unmistakable. Their sudden burst of laughter drew unwelcome stares from the salsa group.

"I knew it," Lloyd declared around a laugh. "I knew you couldn't have gotten a dime like her without a little persuasion, Gray."

"You're this close to getting in my bad books." I held up two fingers to demonstrate.

He waved me off. "You know you love me."

I felt Maya's hand on my bicep, coaxing it to relax. I uncrossed my arms and she tucked herself into my side, her fingers intertwined with mine. Her shy smile made my breath catch.

"I'm Maya. It's nice to meet all of you. Gray's told me so much about you."

"Uh-oh," Carla grimaced.

"Only good things, I promise."

"Which is more than you guys deserve right now," I mumbled under my breath.

We were ushered out of the room soon after by the president of the salsa group. Of course, I had to apologize for my loud bunch of teenagers but what's new?

As we walked hand in hand along 106^th street, she made small talk with the others, laughing with them even though I was the butt of their "witty" remarks. I didn't mind. She seemed genuinely interested in them and they got along seamlessly, maybe because they were only a few years apart.

"Sorry to be the buzzkill but we're heading this way." I pointed in the opposite direction of the subway.

As they said their goodbyes, Lloyd sidled up to me and whispered, "I like her." Then he winked and air-kissed Maya goodbye.

"Well, what did you think?" I asked Maya a little later as we walked towards her apartment.

"You were right - they're good kids. They just need a little... motivation."

"I'm trying, sweetheart."

She smiled and leaned close to place a kiss on my flannel-covered bicep. "I know, Gray. You're good with them. They respect you, despite the jokes."

I grimaced. "Maybe respect's too strong a word."

She shook her head but remained silent.

"I had fun tonight," she said as we approached her building. "I'm sorry I was late. Again."

"You're forgiven. Again."

She took two steps up the stairs to her building and turned towards me with her hands balanced on my shoulders. I found myself looking up at her.

"I want to ask you up for a drink," she started, her fingers running over the collar of my shirt. "But I don't want to..."

"What?" I asked, watching the play of emotions across her expressive face. Embarrassment, need, fear.

Her eyes met mine for a brief second before they skittered away. "The other day, you said I only wanted you for sex. That's not true." Her voice was soft, hesitant. Her eyes were focused on the buttons of my shirt.

I caught her fidgeting fingers. "I know, sweetheart. I was angry; I wasn't thinking."

She cleared her throat. "Good. I just wanted to clear that up."

I raised a small palm to my lips. "So, where does that leave us?"

She took a step down, pressing her body against mine, impossibly close and incredibly tempting.

"I really enjoy spending time with you," she whispered, her fingers tracing the short hairs at the nape of my neck. "And I really, really like you."

Before I could respond, she pressed a kiss to my lips - soft, hesitant, giving me ample time to pull away. But I only moved closer, pulling her to me with one hand around her waist and the other in her hair. She moaned quietly and I could feel her body going lax against mine.

"How about that drink?" I asked, pulling away briefly.

She had her keys out before I could even finish my question.

#

Chapter 10

I awoke gasping for breath in her bed again. She was right there with me, slapping me on the back, pushing my head between my knees. Not again, not again, not again.

I was floating between worlds. Lloyd shouldn't have talked about Ash. I'd dreamt about her again, about the worst hours of my life. The sick crushing sound of my ribs was fresh in my mind. The feel of Ash's boot was one that would haunt me for the rest of my life, the pain radiating from my chest, down my arms and paralyzing me.

"Gray, breathe, goddamnit!" Maya's voice cut through the pain, the fear, the claustrophobic feel of being sequestered in a memory so long gone yet so fresh.

I pushed myself off the bed and onto the floor, pulling my knees up and hoping the hard floor would ground me. She crouched beside me, her hands warm as she stroked my back, my arms, as she ran her fingers through my hair in a soothing gesture.

I felt the dream/memory clear. The picture of Ash, her face contorted in a mask of anger and disgust, faded slowly. Maya's fingers intertwined with mine, squeezing, trying to give me her strength.

"Gray?" Her voice was low, cautious.

"I'm okay." My voice was hoarse. I wondered if I'd been screaming in my sleep. I know I did that sometimes.

I felt her fingers in my hair, gently pulling my face up. She ran a hand over my cheeks, probably noting their lack of color.

"It's okay to not be okay, Gray," she said slowly. I opened my eyes, taking in her look of concern. She was wearing my shirt from last night, the vee of the neck stretched taut over her ample curves. It almost made me smile.

With her back to the window, the sun streamed around her silhouette, casting a beautiful glow. My angel. That's what she was. She knew I was damaged yet she still stayed with me, caressing my cheeks in a way I could only describe as loving.

"I'm feeling better," I said, letting my head fall back onto the bed. She let her hands drop and sat next to me with her back leaning against the bed. She crossed her legs under her, watching me closely as I gathered myself.

"Wanna talk about it? I'm concerned, Gray. It's not the first time this has happened."

"I know." I sighed heavily. "Last night, Lloyd mentioned someone from my past I wasn't prepared for."

"Who?"

I lifted my arm. "Most of my tattoos on this arm and my abdomen are cover-ups. When I was young and extremely stupid, I joined a gang. There was no easy way to get out of it."

I raised her fingers and traced the bumpy scars under the myriad tattoos. There were too many of them for me to remember. Mostly knife wounds.

She gasped softly and took over, her fingers seeking the raised skin.

"What happened?"

"It's a really long story." I sighed. "How about some coffee first?"

Her fingers were still roving my body, making note of each blemish, each scar I'd painstakingly covered up over the years. "Sure, Gray. I'll make us some breakfast and we'll talk, okay?"

I grabbed her roving fingers and placed a kiss on them. "Thank you."

"For what?" she asked with a raised brow.

"For caring."

Her eyes softened and she leaned forward to press a kiss to my forehead. "I don't want to hear you thanking me again. I'm honored that you want to share your life with me."

As I lifted myself onto the edge of the bed, I wondered how I'd gotten so lucky after all these years.

*

She already had a mug of coffee on the table and breakfast on the stove when I exited the bathroom. I stopped a moment to take it all in, this perfect little woman with all the patience and kindness of my mother. Ew, wait, what? I didn't just say that. Scratch that. Let's move on.

"I only had eggs and leftover veggies in the fridge so we're having an omelette for breakfast," she said over her shoulder. She was still wearing my t-shirt; it stopped just past the curve of her butt. Damn, I needed to invest in shorter shirts. "Just sit and have your coffee. It won't be long."

I sat and watched her work. I couldn't help but think how wonderful it would be to start my days like this all the time. Granted, I wouldn't expect her to do this every day. I was more than happy with my usual breakfast of toast and overnight oats. And if it was the two of us, I wouldn't mind breaking out the bacon either for a lovely big breakfast.