Archive of Our Own ^beta

"How long are we avoiding this?"

Maya didn’t flinch. She stared down at her bowl, then scooped a forkful without looking up.
"Not avoiding nothin'," she said simply. "Just life moving on beyond that thing that happened between me and Lucas."

Riley raised an eyebrow, her lips pressing together in a suspicious pout before she made a playful kissing sound.

Maya’s eyes flicked up, unimpressed.
"I know what it was. You don’t have to fish-face at me." She jabbed her fork in Riley's direction. "There wasn’t a kiss."

Riley blinked innocently.
"There wasn’t?"

"No."

"Then what was it?"

Maya leaned back, thinking. She gestured vaguely around her own face.
"He just... grabbed my head. And stared at my face real close. Yeah. Just like that. Yeah."

Riley tilted her head, mimicking the move with exaggerated curiosity.
"That's a good move."

Maya shrugged, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
"I didn’t hate it."

Riley perked up, eyes gleaming.
"Let’s discuss!"

"Let’s not ." Maya shut it down quickly, picking up the ketchup bottle and eyeing Riley suspiciously. "Other things are happening. Life has gotten over this. If you pour ketchup on that mac and cheese, I will never forgive you."

Riley poised the bottle over her bowl, grinning defiantly.
"Life isn't over it, Maya. He held your face. You went on dates. You poured a smoothie over his head— that’s a good move."

Maya smirked. "I didn’t hate it."

Riley leaned in, her tone shifting just slightly. Not teasing anymore—curious, honest.
"But now, what are you guys? Life wants to know, Maya. Life wants to know right now."

Maya scoffed, looking away.
"No, it doesn’t."

Riley gestured around dramatically, as if the apartment itself was waiting for the answer.
"It does. Look around. Nothing’s happening. Maya, until we talk about it— nothing is ever happening again."

Maya Hart dropped into her seat with the weight of the world slumped across her shoulders.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no," she muttered under her breath, slumping lower as Ms. Harper Burgess stood at the front of the room, the words Jane Austen written dramatically across the board in looping cursive.

Riley glanced at her from across the aisle, already knowing exactly why Maya was spiraling before a single word of the lesson had been spoken.

Harper began in her usual calm, patient tone. "Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility focused on the multiple loves of two young women—"

"Well, would you look at that," Riley murmured, mostly to herself, with a smug smirk. She nudged her chair back a fraction, content to spectate.

Maya winced. Here we go.

Harper paced gently, her heels clicking softly against the tile. "Miss Austen believed there were two approaches to love. 'Sense'—meaning what?"

Farkle, as usual, shot his hand into the air. “Good, intelligent judgment.”

“And ‘sensibility’?”

“When your feelings get in the way of that good judgment,” Farkle replied, ever the teacher’s pet.

Harper nodded. “So, what you think you should feel... versus what you actually feel.”

Maya stared blankly at her desk, then deadpanned, “You know what’s a good book? Hop on Pop. ”

A few students chuckled, but Harper was undeterred. She turned toward Maya with an amused tilt of her head. “Come on, Maya. What’s not to love about figuring out love?”

Maya raised her eyes to Harper, a silent plea painted across her face. “Help me.”

But Riley, arms folded and lips zipped, wasn’t biting. “Mm-mm. No. I’m out of this. I’m just gonna sit back and enjoy whatever happens for once.”

Harper called on another student. “Charlie Gardner.”

From the back, Charlie perked up, giving Riley a hopeful glance.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, unimpressed.

“I saw the movie of this,” Charlie offered.

“Why?” the class echoed in unison.

“Because I’m sensitive.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve got a mom and, like, four sisters who took over the TV and used me as a beanbag chair.”

There was a ripple of laughter, but Harper stayed on track. “Did you learn anything from the movie, Mr. Gardner?”

Charlie scratched the back of his neck. “Not really... but I did notice that in order for a relationship to work, you kinda need both. Sense and sensibility.”

Lucas leaned forward, puzzled. “Why? Where was everybody?”

Harper raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh, you noticed that, did you?”

The classroom quieted, sensing Harper was about to make a point that cut deeper than textbook definitions.

“Miss Austen teaches us that romance comes with conflict,” Harper continued, her voice softening. “Two young women, with very different ideas about what love is. One hid her true feelings to protect others—because she believed that made the most ‘sense.’ The other... she had more feelings than she knew what to do with. Overwhelmed by ‘sensibility.’”

Maya blinked slowly, absorbing every word like a weight pressing against her chest.

Lucas.
Josh.
One a spark she had played with until it grew too hot to hold. The other... a quiet, steady pull that had lived in the space between moments—between family dinners and NYU coffee runs, between teasing smiles and the times he didn’t look away fast enough.

Josh had never grabbed her face, not like Lucas had, but sometimes his gaze lingered in a way that said more than any dramatic moment ever could. And while Lucas had held her in front of everyone, Josh had held her heart—softly, secretly, sometimes without even knowing it.

Farkle broke the silence. “What about the character who knows all the secrets of the girl who’s hiding her true feelings?”

Harper didn’t hesitate. “He’s driven to madness... and dies alone and scared.”

Farkle gave a solemn nod. “Thank you.”

“Good,” Riley muttered under her breath.

“Sneh.”

“Fneh.”

Maya was silent. Her mind wasn’t in the classroom anymore. It was in every second she’d spent convincing herself not to feel the things she felt. With Lucas, yes. But also... with Josh. Especially Josh.

“What happens to the two girls, Harper?” she asked finally, her voice quieter than usual. Less sarcastic. More searching.

Harper met her eyes, gentle but honest. “Oh, yeah. The two girls.”

Maya’s fingers tightened slightly on her notebook. “Everything’s always okay between the two girls, right?”

A pause. Harper looked at her, really looked at her. “No, Maya. Love is never easy. And it often comes at great cost. Sometimes the relationships that seem the strongest... are the ones most tragically torn apart.”

Maya’s jaw clenched just slightly. Riley didn’t say a word.

“You know what’s a book where no one gets tragically torn apart?” Maya muttered, trying to lift the moment with humor that didn’t quite land.

Harper raised a brow.

“ Hop on Pop. ”

Inside, Riley Matthews sat cross-legged in a corner booth, her chin perched dramatically on her palm, a battered copy of Sense and Sensibility open in front of her. Across from her, Maya Hart was also pretending to read—but mostly doodling stick figures in the margins of her book.

“What page are you on?” Maya asked casually, flipping her book upside down as if that would help her understand it better.

“Three-oh-four,” Riley replied proudly. “Maya, do you know how the girls in the book decide who they love?”

Maya shrugged. “Please tell me it’s with nunchucks.”

Riley beamed. “They throw a ball!”

Maya blinked. “Cinderelli!”

Riley sat up straighter, swept up in the drama of it all. “Apparently, these sorts of things get decided at the ball. You know what we need?”

Maya deadpanned. “Health insurance?”

“No, Maya. A ball. A grand, sweeping, old-fashioned New Year’s Eve ball!”

Maya tilted her head. “All I know is I’ve been ‘reading’ as long as you have, and I’m on page seven. Pretty sure this book isn’t in America.”

Riley reached across the table, gently bopping Maya’s book with hers. “What’s essential, my dear Maya, is that we host a ball. A night of magic and decision-making! We shall invite all the eligible gentlemen of good breeding—”

“—Who know how to Dougie,” Maya added, flipping her hair.

Right on cue, Charlie Gardner materialized out of nowhere, leaning casually against the booth like he hadn’t been eavesdropping (which he absolutely had). “I hear you’re having a party.”

Maya blinked. “How?!”

Riley pointed at him suspiciously. “Seriously, Charlie, how do you do that?”

Charlie smiled like someone who always walked in just before the punchline. “So... am I invited to this elegant social affair?”

Maya shrugged. “Come on, Charlie Gardner. We’ll get everything sorted out at the dance!”

“Ball!” Riley chimed.

“America!” Maya countered.

Charlie looked between them, amused. “So am I included in the things that need sorting out?”

Riley shifted into mock-royalty. “Well, Mr. Gardner, you are in excellent standing and well-regarded in the village.”

Charlie offered a playful bow and sauntered off.

Maya rolled her eyes. “He never makes it easy, does he?”

Before Riley could respond, the bell above the café door jingled.

Lucas walked in, snow dusting the shoulders of his jacket. “Hey.”

Maya leaned back, raising an eyebrow. “Hey, Huckleberry.”

Lucas glanced around. “So... Charlie Gardner just asked me if I was invited to your party. I told him I didn’t know about any party, and then he smiled like a Charlie Gardner, gave me this weird bow, and walked away.”

“I still like him,” Maya muttered.

Riley quickly smiled. “Of course you’re invited, Lucas.”

Lucas shifted awkwardly. “Thanks, but I don’t want to be some last-second invite.”

From behind him, Farkle poked his head into the conversation, already halfway through ordering a triple shot espresso. “Well, I do. I’m coming, right?”

Riley threw her hands up. “Uh, everybody’s coming! I thought of the party, like, two seconds ago. I don’t know how Charlie does it.”

“Did someone say Charlie Gardner ?” Charlie called from a few tables away.

Maya snorted. “Of course he heard that.”

Charlie smirked. “What’ll be interesting is who’s with who at midnight.”

Riley frowned. “For why? For why would that be interesting?”

Before anyone could answer, the café door opened again, and in stepped Josh Matthews—shoulders hunched slightly from the cold, cheeks flushed from the wind, his NYU hoodie visible under his jacket. He stopped when he saw the gathering of familiar faces.

“Hey,” he said with a crooked smile, walking toward the table. “Did I just walk into a casting call for a Jane Austen reboot?”

Maya’s heart jumped in her chest—and she immediately told it to calm down. He was just Josh . Cory’s kid brother. The guy who had once babysat Auggie and now drank black coffee like an adult and gave her rides home when she was too tired to take the subway.

Riley sat up straighter. “Josh! Good timing. We’re planning a New Year’s Eve ball!”

Josh raised an eyebrow. “A what now?”

“It’s a long story involving nineteenth-century literature, secret feelings, and Charlie Gardner being everywhere,” Maya said, scooting over so he could sit beside her.

Josh chuckled, sliding into the booth next to her. “So am I invited, or do I need to show up with a monocle and a title?”

Riley hesitated for half a second. “Well... we were kinda thinking of inviting all the guys we’re into—”

“Then Josh should definitely be invited,” Maya cut in quickly, her voice almost too casual.

There was a beat of silence.

Riley blinked, surprised. Josh froze, halfway through reaching for a napkin.

Maya stared straight ahead, cheeks pink but eyes daring anyone to challenge her.

Josh looked at her carefully—quietly—and gave a small smile.

Riley nodded slowly. “Right. Yeah. Of course. Everyone we’re into.”

Farkle tilted his head. “Is this going to get weird?”

Maya smirked, finally relaxing a little. “Farkle, it’s us. It’s already weird.”

“Come on,” Farkle said quietly, and before she could ask anything, he was pulling her gently through the front doors.

They stepped into the small outdoor seating area—a string of half-lit fairy lights still hung along the black iron fence. The snow crunched softly beneath their shoes. The chill bit into Riley’s cheeks, but Farkle didn’t let go of her wrist until they were out of earshot from the group inside.

Riley blinked at him, startled. “Farkle, what—?”

“Yeah,” Farkle said, voice sharp with uncharacteristic frustration. “Why would that be interesting, Riley? You want to know what I think?”

She folded her arms, suddenly defensive. “I’m guessing you’re going to tell me.”

“You remember when you did this to me? When we had this talk? We had a deal, Riley. I gave you time. Time to tell everybody the truth about how you really feel.” He paused, eyes searching hers. “You haven’t done anything about it yet. Want to guess how much time you have left?”

Riley’s voice was small. “Oh. This has something to do with New Year’s, doesn’t it?”

Farkle nodded. “Yeah. It has everything to do with it. Because if you start a brand new year by pretending—by letting people believe something that isn’t true—then that lie becomes your new beginning. And I don’t think you want that.”

Her breath clouded in front of her face. She turned away, her voice cracking just slightly. “Tell them I still like Lucas? Just like that? You think that wouldn’t blow everything up?”

“I think,” Farkle said firmly, “that it’s the only way to stop this from falling apart even more.”

Riley turned back to face him, eyes wide and pleading. “Farkle, Maya stepped back for me when she saw that I liked him. If... if she still has feelings for him, how could I not do the same for her?”

Farkle didn’t move, but his tone softened. “You don’t know that. You don’t know what she feels anymore, Riley. I don’t even think she knows. You know why?”

Riley’s eyes narrowed. “Because she can only read seven pages in three hours?”

He gave a huff of a laugh. “That too. But no—it’s because these things we’re feeling? Love. Confusion. Fear. It’s all new. For all of us. You think Maya knows the difference between protecting you and wanting something for herself?”

Riley bit her lip. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Harper said it all comes at a cost.”

Farkle nodded. “Yeah. So what’s your cost, Riley? Is it your own happiness?”

She blinked hard, trying not to cry. “You said you wouldn’t tell anybody. You promised . How could you do this to me?”

“I’m not doing this to you,” Farkle said. “I’m doing this for you. Because I care so much about you, Riley. And because I know you. I know that deep down, you believe the truth is always the best thing. Even when it’s scary. Even when it hurts.”

Her hands trembled as she clasped them in front of her. “How is it the best thing if it turns everything into a mess?”

“You don’t think this is a mess already?” he asked, stepping closer. “We’re all acting like we don’t know what’s going on, but we do. Every single one of us is pretending. And someone has to stop. I want you to stop. I want you to tell them. Because I know you would make me do the same thing.”

She looked up at him with wide, anxious eyes. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” Farkle replied, his voice clear, unwavering. Then, a small, almost goofy smile tugged at his lips. “You ever heard of the horn of Gabriel?”

She blinked. “No?”

He grinned. “He’s an angel. They say when he blows his horn, it’s the end of time. If you don’t tell everyone how you really feel... his horn blows at midnight.”

Riley laughed in spite of herself, brushing snow off her sleeves. “That’s dramatic. Even for you.”

Farkle turned and started walking back toward the door. “Just because I don’t do much doesn’t mean I can’t .”

He pushed the door open, the bell jingling softly as he reentered the warmth and chatter of the café.

“Okay, everybody!” Farkle called with sudden, theatrical energy. “Riley’s house. Tomorrow night. We’re ringing in the new year together.”

Everyone looked up, surprised.

Farkle smiled as he reached Smackle and offered her his hand. “I’ll be with Smackle at midnight.” He glanced around the room, eyes twinkling. “Who will you all be with?”

Riley stepped back inside just in time to hear that last line—and feel every pair of eyes in the room turn subtly toward her.

She swallowed hard.

Time was running out.

Cory Matthews leaned against his desk at the front of the room, arms folded, gaze sweeping across the familiar faces of his students—his daughter, her friends, the kids he’d watched grow up right alongside his own family. It never got less surreal. Or more meaningful.

“Let’s talk about friendship,” he began, his voice warm and calm. “We form it before we even know what it is. We just look at someone and think—‘Hey, I like this person.’”

The room was silent, but the energy shifted. A few heads turned instinctively—Lucas to Riley, Farkle to Smackle, Maya to the window, as if avoiding someone’s eyes rather than meeting them.

From the back of the classroom, Charlie Gardner’s voice piped up. “It’s nice we’re all looking at each other.”

A ripple of laughter moved through the class, but Cory smiled knowingly and continued.

“We grow before we even know what growth means. We just... suddenly realize, ‘I see things differently now.’” He paused, stepping away from his desk, pacing slowly in front of the blackboard. “And finally—feelings. We feel. And you know what we know from feelings?”

He waited, raising his eyebrows. Nobody answered.

“Nothing,” he said, with a hint of humor in his voice. “We just feel. It’s how we know we’re alive.”

He stopped, looking directly at his daughter.

“But,” he added gently, “you have to be careful with feelings. Because if you don’t take care of them, they can tear apart everything else—friendship, growth... all of it.”

Riley raised her hand, slowly. She didn’t wait to be called on.

“Friends come first,” she said quietly, but with conviction. “And growth is knowing that your friends' happiness comes before your own.”

There was a pause.

Cory blinked at her, tilting his head. “That’s nuts.”

From the next row over, Farkle called out with a grin, “You tell her, ham bone!”

The class giggled again, but Cory’s expression softened as he looked back at Riley.

“But Dad,” she said, “you’ve always lived that way. You always put people first.”

He let out a breath, thoughtful. “Not always, Riley. I didn’t used to.” His gaze drifted out toward the falling snow, the past lingering just out of reach. “But I learned. Just like you’re all learning now. Every event in history—every single one—comes from people feeling something and then acting on it. Or sometimes, being smart enough not to.”

He turned back to face the room. “That’s how you grow.”

Silence settled in again, but it wasn’t awkward. It was reflective. The kind that came when something real had just been said.

Farkle raised his hand, only halfway. “Is that going to be on the test, sir?”

Cory chuckled. “It is.”

Lucas glanced up from his notebook. “When’s the test?”

Cory looked around the room, at these kids who were no longer really kids—not quite. “Every day,” he said simply. “Every single day.”

The bell rang.

Chairs scraped, backpacks zipped, and just like that, the spell broke and the rush of end-of-day energy returned. But the lesson lingered, trailing behind them as they filed out into the hallway, snow and silence and something unsaid pressing on their hearts.

As they passed the doorway, Cory called after them.

“Happy New Year, everyone.”

“Do you give in to your feelings,” Harper asked, slowly pacing in front of the blackboard, “or do you let your mind rule over your heart?”

She posed the question without looking at anyone in particular, but Maya raised her hand with no hesitation.

“I follow my heart,” Maya said, her voice confident but laced with something raw. “It gets me into trouble.”

A few quiet laughs fluttered through the classroom. Harper didn’t smile, but she softened.

“And what about you, Riley?” she asked.

Riley looked up from her copy of Sense and Sensibility , fidgeting with the edge of the page. “My mind tells me to do what’s right,” she said carefully. “Even when I don’t want to.”

Harper nodded, considering both answers. Then, she turned to the class. “Can anyone tell me which is more valuable to follow?”

Lucas raised his hand in the back, trying to sound casual. “It depends on the situation.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Harper said without missing a beat.

Lucas blinked. “Just taking a shot!”

“Very passionate,” Harper deadpanned.

Lucas brightened. “Thank you!”

Harper raised an eyebrow. “And that’s where we run into trouble.”

Lucas looked betrayed. “You set me up!”

A soft chuckle moved through the room again, but Harper stayed serious.

“The untamed heart can be reckless,” she said. “It can be harmful—to yourself, and to others. But pure intellect, never following your heart, is a life unlived. A heart locked away is no heart at all. Sense and Sensibility. ”

She turned, writing the title across the board in slow, neat letters.

“What’s the most important word in the title?”

“SENSE,” Riley answered immediately, sitting up straighter in her seat.

“SENSIBILITY,” Maya said at the same time, arms crossed as she leaned back.

Harper gave neither of them the satisfaction of being right—or wrong.

Instead, she turned to Farkle.

He blinked, pushed up his sleeves, and said, “ And. ”

That earned a pause.

“Head and heart,” Farkle continued. “You need to use both.”

Harper’s eyes crinkled slightly, a subtle smile playing on her lips. “Very good.”

There was a silence that settled over the room then, full of thought and tension and everything unspoken. Each student sat with something personal churning behind their eyes. These weren’t just hypotheticals anymore. Not in this group.

Harper closed her book with a soft thud and gave one last look at the class before heading toward her desk.

“You have until New Year’s Eve,” she said, voice low and deliberate. “This horn blows at midnight.”

The scent of popcorn and something sweet—maybe hot chocolate—lingered in the air. The lights were soft, casting a cozy glow over the living room, where festive garlands wrapped the staircase banister and a string of gold stars stretched across the ceiling. A record played quietly in the background, something old and slow, while Riley and Topanga stood near the kitchen counter, watching the party start to take shape.

Riley leaned back against the counter, arms folded. “I just want everyone to have a good time. That’s all.”

Topanga smiled gently, brushing a strand of hair from Riley’s forehead. “Oh, Riley. Take a look around.” She gestured toward the people drifting in—their people. “These are the people of your life. Last year, this year, and at least the next four years of high school. Treat them right.”

She kissed Riley on the forehead. “Here’s to the right decisions for the right reasons. Happy New Year, my daughter.”

Riley smiled, soaking in the moment. But before she could respond, the apartment door flew open and Auggie marched in dramatically, arms crossed.

“I ain’t doin’ it,” he announced.

“Yeah, okay,” Riley said, not even looking at him.

Before anyone could react further, the doorbell rang.

“I got it!” Riley called, practically skipping to the door. She opened it wide to reveal Smackle, beaming in a sparkly silver top.

“Hello, Riley. Happiest of New Year’s.”

Riley blinked. “Oh.”

“Tell me when the pressure is sufficient,” Smackle said, leaning in stiffly as though preparing for a hug.

“All you have to do is mean it, Smackle,” Riley replied, hugging her back.

“One thing at a time!”

“Tick, tick, tick,” Farkle muttered as he entered behind her.

“Okay! Yeah, yeah. Farkle, welcome to my party. Have a great time.”

Smackle turned to Riley, suddenly sly. “You know, Riley, as a spinster you may not be aware, but romance is very much in play on New Year’s Eve. Isn’t that right, dearest?”

“Yes,” Farkle nodded. “I’m told who you’re with when the clock strikes twelve is how you’ll spend the coming year.”

“I will certainly be with you.” Smackle narrowed her eyes. “Unless my third wheel tries to intervene.”

Lucas stepped in behind them, brushing snow from his jacket. “I’m not your third wheel, Smackle. I just arrived at the same time.”

“Desperation doesn’t look good on you, Lucas,” she said, appraising him coolly. “Even though everything else does.”

“Smackle!” Farkle said, flustered.

“Which part was I not supposed to say out loud?”

“You can say whatever you want,” Farkle replied, a rare edge to his voice. “She’s mine.”

“Tell her that!”

Lucas blinked, slightly thrown off by the chaos. Then he looked across the room—and froze.

Standing in the kitchen doorway was Maya. Her hair was curled softly, her lips a quiet shade of red, and she wore a black dress with sleeves that fell off her shoulders. She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Hi,” Lucas said.

“Hi,” she replied, her voice just above a whisper.

Josh wasn't supposed to be there.

He had claimed he had RA duties, or some vague college thing that sounded believable enough. But then Maya had said she wouldn't come if it was just another high school party, and the next thing anyone knew, there he was—holding a bag of pretzels and trying not to look too pleased with himself.

Riley had squealed when she saw them. “Happy New Year, Uncle Josh!”

He winced. “Lose the ‘uncle’ at parties, Riles. Please.”

Maya smirked. She hadn’t told Riley that Josh was coming. She hadn’t told anyone. That was how she liked it lately—keeping things quiet. Complicated things didn’t always need to be said out loud.

They had barely taken off their coats before Charlie Gardner was standing in the middle of the room with a stack of board games and the chaotic energy of a golden retriever.

“Game time!” he announced. “We've got The Family Game, The Friends Game, The Couples Game…”

“Oh no,” Cory groaned from the kitchen.

“…and Twister!”

“No Twister!” Cory and Topanga said in unison.

Charlie grinned and held up the Couples Game. “Let’s do this one.”

Josh raised an eyebrow, amused. “Is that even allowed?”

Maya glanced up at him, eyes sparkling. “Are you scared?”

“Of a high school board game?”

“Of losing to me.”

He gave a short laugh. “Alright, let’s go.”

They sat together on the couch, and for the first time that night, Maya relaxed. The noise around her blurred into a buzz—Farkle arguing with Smackle over rules, Riley trying to organize scorecards, Cory feigning disapproval from the sidelines. Across the room, Lucas settled into the armchair near the fireplace, clearly opting out of the game but not missing a thing. His eyes flicked to Maya and Josh. Then stayed there.

Riley, ever the host, read the first card.

“Okay. First question for Maya and Josh: What is your partner’s favorite movie snack?”

Josh opened his mouth, but Maya didn’t wait.

“He eats buttered popcorn until the bag disintegrates, then pretends he didn’t want the crumbs at the bottom,” she said easily. “And he has to have chocolate. Specifically, Milk Duds. He says it’s about balancing salty and sweet, but he really just doesn’t like sharing.”

Josh blinked at her. “That’s... weirdly accurate.”

Maya raised one brow, leaning back smugly. “You eat them every time you rewatch Back to the Future .”

He looked impressed. “You pay attention.”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.

Riley shuffled the cards, grinning. “Okay. Next question—‘What song always makes your partner smile?’ Josh, your turn.”

Josh thought for a beat, then gave her a sidelong glance. “She’ll deny it, but it’s that ‘Boom Clap’ song from The Fault in Our Stars . She hums it every time she paints.”

Maya groaned. “I do not.”

“You really do,” he said, laughing. “The chorus. Over and over. You hum it like you’re trying to pretend it’s not in your head.”

“I’m gonna kill Riley for letting you into my apartment.”

“You invited me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Technicality.”

Lucas’s voice cut in from the armchair. “You two seem to know each other pretty well.”

Josh looked up, surprised by the comment. Maya didn’t turn toward Lucas. She kept her eyes on the cards.

“I observe things,” she said simply.

Lucas fell quiet again. Maya felt his gaze linger but ignored it.

Next round. Another question.

“Have you ever kept a secret from someone you love?”

This time, neither of them answered right away.

Josh exhaled slowly. “Yeah,” he said. “I have.”

Maya didn’t look at him when she said, “Me too.”

Their words weren’t loud, but they landed heavily. The room went still for just a second—long enough to notice. Then Smackle clapped her hands and declared it time for the next round.

As the group moved toward the stairs to watch the ball drop from the rooftop, Josh stood, waiting for Maya. She stayed seated for a moment, letting the others go ahead.

“You really knew all of that?” he asked quietly, like it had just started to sink in.

Maya gave him a slow smile. “I pay attention, Joshua.”

He looked at her, brows drawn together like he wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or thrown. “I thought I knew you.”

“You do,” she said. “Just... not as well as I know you.”

Cory and Topanga stepped into the living room, surveying the scene. It wasn’t a bad mess—not really. A few hats tossed aside, a soda can tipping off the edge of the coffee table. But the real surprise was the figure curled on the couch, quiet and still.

“Well,” Cory said softly, “not much of a mess at all, really.”

Topanga nodded, smiling a little. “Good bunch of kids… although they left behind a whole human being.”

At the sound of their voices, Maya didn’t even flinch. She kept her eyes ahead and said quietly, “I’m a mess. Who’s gonna clean me up?”

Her voice was light, but there was a rawness to it. Cory moved closer, sitting down beside her. Topanga knelt gently at her feet, the warmth of both their presences wrapping around her like a soft blanket.

“What’s going on, honey?” Cory asked gently.

Maya finally looked at him, her expression somewhere between tired and overwhelmed.

“I’m a little confused,” she admitted. Then she let out a half-hearted laugh. “You’re right again, aren’t you, Matthews?”

He gave her a gentle smile. “About what?”

She hesitated, searching for the right words. Then she said, “About how easy it is to get torn apart by feelings you don’t understand.”

She paused, then exhaled sharply through her nose and glanced down at her hands.

“I think I like Josh,” she said, her voice quieter now. “I think I always have. But then there’s Lucas. And even if I’ve moved past the idea of him, maybe I never really let go completely. Or maybe I just miss when things felt simpler. When I knew where I stood with everyone.”

Topanga reached out, placing a steady hand on Maya’s knee. There was no judgment in her eyes—just kindness, and something even deeper. Understanding.

“It’s going to be a tough year, isn’t it?” Maya said again, half to herself.

Topanga’s voice was warm. “Oh, it doesn’t get easier. But that’s why you stay close to the people you trust. They help put you back together again when you fall apart.”

Maya looked up at her then, her eyes damp but clear, her heart caught somewhere between hope and fear.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “They’re all right here, aren’t they?”

Cory nodded. “Yeah. They all are.”

There was a moment of quiet between them—one of those rare, peaceful silences that doesn’t feel empty at all.

Topanga tilted her head, smiling softly. “So… why don’t you go join them?”

Maya hesitated for just a second, then nodded. She stood slowly, drawing in a deep breath, like she was gathering herself piece by piece. As she moved toward the stairs, Cory called after her.

“Happy New Year, Maya.”

She turned, her hand resting on the banister, and offered him a soft smile.

“Happy New Year.”

Topanga leaned into Cory’s shoulder as they watched her go.

“You and me,” she said gently. “Next year?”

Cory smiled. “Bring it on.”

Riley had returned to the rooftop, but her heart still felt heavy. Josh stood near the far edge, looking out over the glittering skyline, hands buried in his coat pockets.

But before she could approach him, someone else stepped forward.

It was Maya.

She’d found her way up after all. And her eyes searched the crowd until they landed on Lucas, standing alone by the railing.

“This spot taken?” she asked casually.

Lucas turned, surprised. “I was saving it.”

“For who?”

He hesitated, voice quiet. “I don’t know anymore.”

Maya gave a half-smile. “Hey, Lucas?”

“Yeah?”

“Have I ever said anything nice to you?”

He blinked. “No. Not once.”

Maya tilted her head. “Well… it’s one minute to midnight, and I’m glad you’re standing here.”

Lucas grinned. “Wow. That kind of makes up for everything.”

A few feet away, Josh had turned, his eyes drawn to her voice. The moment stretched. Maya looked up at Lucas one last time, then murmured, “Be right back.”

She made her way to Josh slowly, like the space between them was something sacred.

He saw her coming before she said a word, and something shifted in his expression—softness, maybe. Worry. Maybe even something he didn’t quite understand himself.

“Hey,” she said, her arms folding over herself—not just because of the cold, but because of the nerves dancing in her chest.

“Hey,” he replied, offering her a small, cautious smile. “Didn’t think you’d come up here.”

“I wasn’t going to,” she admitted. “I thought I’d just let the year change and pretend I didn’t care.”

His brows furrowed slightly. “And then?”

“Then I realized I did care,” she said. “That I didn’t want the year to change without seeing you.”

Josh drew in a quiet breath, his eyes searching hers for a long second. “I’m glad you came.”

The wind lifted her hair and she tucked a strand behind her ear, trying to look anywhere but directly at him. “This whole night has been… weird. Everyone’s figuring out who they want to be with, who they’re going to kiss at midnight. And I guess I just wanted to be near you. Even if that’s all it is.”

She finally met his gaze, and something flickered there—hesitation, emotion, a careful kind of affection.

“Maya…” he said gently, and she already knew what was coming.

“I know,” she said, cutting him off before he had to say it. “You’re too old for me.”

“I am,” he said, voice warm but firm. “You’re fourteen, Maya.”

She nodded. “I know. And I’m not saying that now is the right time. It’s not. I just…” She looked down at her shoes for a second, then back up. “I guess I just wanted to be honest. About how I feel. Even if I can’t do anything about it.”

Josh’s smile turned a little sad. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“Yeah, well. I get that a lot.” She tried to smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m not asking for anything.”

He nodded. “Good. Because I can’t give you anything. Not now.”

She hesitated, then said softly, “Maybe one day.”

Josh was quiet for a beat. Then he looked at her—really looked at her—and said, with just the smallest tug of a smile, “Maybe one day.”

That was enough.

She didn’t move closer. He didn’t reach for her. There was no contact, no promises. Just the quiet hum of possibility hanging between them, untouchable but present.

Auggie stood beside Charlie, who looked down over the edge, lost in thought.

“Everybody’s with someone, huh?” Auggie asked.

Charlie glanced at him. “Yeah.”

“You know what?” Auggie grinned up at him.

“What?”

“This is the first New Year’s I ever made it to midnight.”

Charlie chuckled. “Congratulations.”

From every corner of the rooftop, voices rang out.

“Ten…”

Josh looked at Maya. She didn’t look away.

“Nine…”

Lucas turned toward Riley. She turned toward him.

“Eight…”

Farkle looked across the rooftop, his eyes landing on Riley. His face was set with resolve.

“Seven, six, five, four, three, two, one…”

And just as the new year struck—

Farkle’s voice rang clear. “Riley still loves Lucas.”

Gasps. Silence. Then soft murmurs of surprise.

But Riley didn’t argue.

She turned toward Lucas with tearful eyes and whispered, “Happy New Year.”

Yogi passed by with a grin. “Thanks for a wonderful evening.”

Farkle looked sheepish, but stood tall. “I’m sorry, guys. I did the right thing. I hope you can forgive me.” He turned to Smackle. “Happy New Year.”

Josh reached down and gently took Maya’s hand.

She didn’t pull away.

“It’s midnight,” she said quietly, looking up at him.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Here we are.”