Chapter Text
“Shit, shit, shit, shit!”
No matter how hard she rubs at it, the giant mayo stain on the sleeve won’t go. Maya groans. The creamy stain on her turquoise sweater looks disgusting.
In the background, canned laughter spews from the TV screen, and she barely resists the urge to check her remote at the screen. As much as she loves this episode of Cheers, the last thing she needs is the sound of people mocking her mayo mishap.
She licks the back of her hand and rubs it against the sleeve. Still no luck. Sighing, Maya reluctantly drags herself off the couch, brushing off the cookie crumbs, and pulls the sweater over her head.
The sweater lands on the mountain of laundry in the basket. It glares at Maya, and she scowls back. The laundry wins.
“I’m not high enough for this,” Maya mutters as she walks into the apartment building laundry room and drops her laundry basket in front of a washing machine.
“I definitely am.”
Maya glances up to see a girl with long, wavy hair in a white crop top and ripped jean shorts sitting on the dryer. She swings her feet back and forth with an amused smile.
“Took an edible. It’s kicking in.” The girl pauses and tilts her head, scrutinizing Maya as she shoves her laundry into the washing machine. “I haven’t seen you around before. You go to UNM?”
“Nah. I dropped out. I’m in between jobs right now,” Maya replies because she’ll never willingly admit to anyone, much less this complete stranger, that she spends all her time playing video games and watching TV because she’d much rather do that work some dead-end job in an office.
She can feel the girl’s eyes on her while tossing in a detergent pod and punching in the setting for the washer.
“Shit. I respect that. I’m Slice, by the way.”
Slice extends a perfectly manicured hand out towards Maya. She accepts it with a generous shake. “Maya. What kind of a name of name is Slice?”
“It’s a nickname. I gave it to myself.” She unwraps a lollipop, pops it in her mouth, and pushes herself off the edge of the dryer. Maya averts her gaze to make it less obvious that she’s gawking at Slice’s gorgeously tan legs.
Truthfully, Maya doesn’t think before she speaks. Nothing but panic floods her mind when she realizes that Slice is about to leave, leading her to blurt out, “Are you busy tomorrow?”
Pausing mid-step, Slice turns around, the end of her lollipop sticking out between her glossy lips. A lock of her hair falls in front of her hazel eyes as she searches Maya’s face. “I don’t have classes ‘til 3 pm.”
“Would you maybe want to get lunch at the diner down the street?”
The cherry lollipop exits Slice’s mouth with a wet pop. “See you at 12.”
~
Maya crinkles the straw wrapper in her hands and stretches out the paper again. She watches the waitress, a lady with curly hair wearing a red vest and yellow t-shirt, pour a cup of coffee and down it all in one gulp.
In another world, Maya would ask the lady if she’s nervous about what’s coming next. In this world, she sits in the dull hum of the air conditioning and rips the straw wrapper cleanly in half.
Silver welcome bells jingle, and a stream of light pours in through the open door.
Today, Slice is wearing baby pink shorts that peek out from underneath her oversized black band t-shirt. It’s a low-effort outfit, but Maya is embarrassingly enamored. The college student removes her sunglasses and slides into the booth across from Maya.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Nothing much. Do you, um- Are you hungry? They have a breakfast menu available 24/7. The waffles here are really good. Or, like, at least by my standards anyways,” Maya says, stumbling over her words in her attempt to seem calm and collected.
God, this is so embarrassing. She’s so used to being the one who’s cool and unbothered, but something about Slice—maybe the way she smirks at Maya’s answer or casually rests her chin on her hand—that makes Maya’s tongue feel abnormally heavy in her mouth.
“Waffles sound good.” Slice waves the waitress over. The waitress reluctantly puts down the empty cup of coffee and makes the motion to indicate she’ll be over in a second.
Maya fidgets with half of the straw wrapper while she remarks, “I like your shirt.”
“Thanks. I got it last summer when I saw them on tour,” Slice picks up the other half of the remaining straw wrapper and smooths out all the wrinkles between her two fingers. It takes all of Maya’s self-control not to follow the motion of Slice’s fingers with her eyes. “Just so we’re clear, is this a date?”
“If you want it to be,” Maya retorts with much more confidence than she feels, and Slice raises an eyebrow, clearly amused.
Oblivious to the situation, the waitress clears her throat and forces a tight, customer-friendly smile. “What can I get you two?”
“Can we get two waffles? Extra maple syrup please.” Slice holds out the menus to the waitress.
It’s stupid to think that she should only ever come to this restaurant if Slice is here too, but Maya has that thought anyway because when the waffles arrive in the middle of their conversation about Madonna, she doesn’t even care about the waffles much anymore, even though they’re one of her favorite foods in the entire world. And once she finally takes a bite from her waffle, she realizes this is the best they’ve ever tasted.
When the check hits the table, Maya mentally prepares to ask if Slice can pay because she has $6 to her name at most after spending most of her unemployment check on jars of mayonnaise, cable TV add-on channels, and weed. But she doesn’t even get the chance to because Slice hands her card over.
“Oh, you didn’t have to.”
Waving a dismissive hand, Slice insists, “No worries. It’s on me. You don’t owe me anything but…”
She signs the bottom of the receipt and picks up Maya’s hand nonchalantly. Then, with the pen, she scribbles her phone number.
“I’m driving up to Colorado this weekend. I’m leaving Friday morning. Give my cell a call if you want to join me.” Slice says.
Maya could be projecting, but she swears Slice’s hand lingers on hers for a second longer after she stops writing. The moment passes, and Slice unfolds her sunglasses, standing up and again displaying her doll-like, perfect legs. “You’re right. The waffles were good.”
The stupidly wide grin stretching across Maya’s face doesn’t fade even after Slice is long gone.
~
Listen, Maya knows going on a road trip with someone she met less than a week ago is a bad idea, even if that someone is one of the prettiest girls she’s ever seen in her entire life. Yet after days of internal back-and-forth about the offer, she finds herself picking up her landline on Thursday night and dialing the number she’s memorized from tracing the ink so many times to recreate the feeling of Slice’s hand touching hers.
“I’ll go with you to Colorado.”
She can hear Slice’s smile in her reply. “Sweet. Meet me in the parking lot tomorrow at 10 am.”
By 1 pm the next day, the two girls cross the border between New Mexico and Colorado. Fleetwood Mac, courtesy of the CD player, blasts out of open car windows and into the sandy landscape surrounding the blazing hot highway.
With her feet up on the dashboard, Maya fiddles with her Gameboy. Truthfully, she’s not very invested in this game of Tetris she’s playing. Every few seconds, she lifts her eyes from her device to look at how relaxed Slice seems despite having driven on the road for over three hours.
She decides to purposely let the blocks stack up to the top of the screen so she can have an excuse to put the Gameboy down and strike up a conversation.
“How did you settle on the name Slice?”
Slice reaches over to the volume knob and turns down the sound of Peter Green crooning about his broken heart. She lets the question hang mysteriously in the air for a few seconds before she replies, “I’m kind of known for sleeping around a lot. People used to call me all sorts of shit… slut, whore, etc. I got tired of people deciding what I should be called, so I figured I give myself a catchy nickname to get everyone to fuck off.
“Eventually, I decided on the nickname Slice ‘cause everyone wants a piece of me. Some people think that I chose it because I slice up every person’s heart after I sleep with them, but I don’t really care as long as they refer to me on my own terms.”
For the first time, there’s a hint of softness in Slice’s hazel eyes, a brief and rare appearance in the absence of the walls she puts up.
“My real name is Irene, by the way.”
Maya tugs on the sleeve of her sweater as she asks, “Do you want me to call you Slice, still?”
“I don’t really care. I just wanted you to know…” Slice trails off, dangling the unspoken who I really am . She glances over at Maya with a fondness that makes Maya’s heart leap into her throat and attempt to claw its way out of her body and land on Slice’s lap.
She hates how vulnerable she feels. She loves how desired she feels.
Reluctantly tearing her eyes away from Slice’s smoldering gaze, Maya clears her throat and folds her arms across her chest. “Eyes on the road. You never know when tumbleweed is going to cross the road.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” Slice salutes exaggeratedly, turns up the music, and grips the wheel with both hands. She seems to focus on the road, but Maya hopes that out of the corner of the eye, Slice can see the way that Maya looks at her like she doesn’t care if Slice crushes her heart into a million pieces, as long as she gets to have her for a moment.
~
Slice and Maya’s first kiss happens on Mount Sanitas.
As someone who hasn’t exercised since mandatory P.E. classes in high school, Maya tried to reason her way out of joining Slice on her hike. But she couldn’t say no to the girl’s doe-eyed pleas and caves.
An hour into the hike, Maya is sweaty, exhausted, and struggling to keep up with Slice. She’s panting, nearly keeling over with every step, but despite Maya’s dramatics, Slice encourages, “C’mon, slowpoke. You got this!”
They reach the peak just in time for lunch. Admittedly, Maya is a little embarrassed that she’s reduced to a mess by the energy the uphill hike took out of her, but all that fades away once she sits down on a rock and takes in the vast expanse of bright green trees scattered across the orange rocky mountains. She has to admit that it’s breathtaking. Maybe being in touch with nature sometimes isn't so bad.
“Here.” Slice pokes her arm with a wrapped sandwich, and Maya gratefully accepts the food. It takes all her self-control not to scarf the sandwich down in one bite like a wolf finding its first prey after a scarce winter. “So, what do you think? Was the hike worth it?”
“This view is actually pretty rad,” Maya admits, talking with a mouthful of bread, lettuce, and tomato. She swallows and eyes Slice, who gives her an unreadable look. “What? Do I have something on my face?”
“No. Well, you have some crumbs there…” Leaning over, Slice gently rubs her thumb at the corner of Maya’s mouth, and Maya instinctively leans into her touch. Slice’s finger stills.
Then, before Maya can even realize what’s happening, Slice closes the gap between their lips and captures her mouth in a kiss.
She wears strawberry-flavored lip gloss, Maya thinks to herself as she drops the sandwich on her lap and brings one hand up to the back of Slice’s neck to deepen the kiss. Exhilaration shoots through her veins as Slice scoots a little closer and rests her hand on Maya’s thigh.
They don’t really talk about what happened until nighttime when they’re sitting on a curb outside their motel room and smoking a joint together. Maya watches wisps of smoke curl up into the dark air. She closes her eyes, absorbing the distant sound of cars clustering the highway roads and sharp exclamations of crickets chirping.
“Did you mean it?”
“Kissing you?” Slice pauses and takes a hit. “Yeah. I like you a lot.”
“Do you say that to everyone?”
Though Maya fears her insecurity is all too evident in her question, Slice laughs lightheartedly. “To people I sleep around with? Fuck no.”
Slice’s answer should ease any worries, but how she avoids Maya’s eyes as she passes the joint says otherwise. Maya stares at the joint for a second and glances back at the girl sitting next to her. “But you don’t want to be with me. Like, together together.”
Slice picks at the frayed ends of her jean shorts. “There’s a reason people think I’m called Slice in a threatening way. I still have yet to be with someone and not end up leaving them in ruins. I can’t do that to you, too.”
“I don’t mind. There’s not much in my life you can fuck up, anyways.” Maya places her free hand on Slice’s nervous one.
“I guess we’ll see.”
Above the two girls, a crescent moon hangs among a smatter of twinkling stars with infinite possibility.