Chapter Text
If there was one thing Riley Matthews believed with her whole heart, it was this:
Something was wrong.
She noticed it during lunch, when Farkle sat down across from her, Maya, Lucas, and Smackle — and didn’t immediately start talking.
Farkle always talked.
“Okay,” Riley said slowly, leaning forward. “Either you’ve been replaced by an alien or something emotionally significant is happening.”
Maya squinted at him. “Blink twice if you’re having feelings.”
Farkle adjusted his tie. “I blink at a medically normal rate.”
Smackle frowned. “That was not a denial.”
Across the table, Amara Johnson stabbed her fork into a piece of fruit a little harder than necessary.
Riley’s eyes flicked between the two of them. Amara wasn’t looking at Farkle. Farkle definitely wasn’t looking at Amara. And the space between them felt… loud.
“Oh,” Riley whispered. “Oh no.”
Maya followed her gaze and immediately grinned. “Wait. Is this about her?”
Amara finally looked up. “About me being right here?”
“Yes,” Maya said brightly. “About you being right here and Farkle being weird.”
Amara rolled her eyes. “He’s been weird all week.”
“I have not,” Farkle protested. “I have been statistically consistent.”
Lucas raised an eyebrow. “Man, you skipped sitting next to her in history.”
“That’s because—” Farkle stopped himself.
Riley gasped. “You skipped sitting next to your favorite person.”
Amara stood up. “I need air.”
She walked away before anyone could stop her.
Farkle stared after her like the world had tilted.
Maya smacked his arm. “Go. Fix it. Before Riley cries.”
“I am already emotionally unstable,” Riley added.
Amara was by the lockers, arms crossed, jaw tight.
Farkle approached like he was defusing a bomb.
“You’re mad,” he said.
“Wow,” she replied flatly. “You’re observant.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“But you did.”
That landed.
She turned to face him, eyes sharp but tired. “You don’t get to just disappear on me because you’re insecure.”
“I wasn’t disappearing,” he said. “I was… giving you space.”
“I didn’t ask for space,” she snapped. “I asked you to trust me.”
He swallowed. “People assume things about you. They talk. I thought maybe if I stepped back—”
“So you believed them?”
“No,” he said quickly. “I believed you deserved better than someone who overthinks himself into silence.”
Amara laughed — but there was no humor in it. “You don’t get to decide that.”
Before he could respond, Maya appeared out of nowhere.
“Okay, hi, sorry,” she said. “But he’s spiraling, and you’re spiraling, and Riley is currently planning a wedding or a funeral — unclear which.”
Riley popped out behind her. “I brought emotional support!”
Amara sighed. “This is not a group activity.”
“Yes it is,” Riley said. “We’re a unit.”
Farkle looked at Amara. “I heard someone say you were only doing well because teachers ‘felt bad for you.’”
Her face hardened.
“I snapped,” he continued. “I corrected them. Loudly.”
Maya smirked. “Loudly is an understatement.”
Amara’s shoulders softened just a bit. “You defended me?”
“Of course I did,” he said. “It wasn’t even a question.”
She studied him for a long moment. “Then why are you acting like you don’t want me around?”
“Because I’m scared,” he admitted. “You’re confident. You know who you are. And I—”
“You’re Farkle Minkus,” Riley interrupted. “You’re loyal to a fault and emotionally constipated.”
“Riley,” Lucas said gently.
“What? It’s true.”
Amara smiled despite herself. “Farkle, I don’t need you to be perfect. I need you to stay.”
Silence.
Then Farkle took a breath. “I like you. A lot. In ways that are terrifying and illogical.”
Maya clapped. “YES. SAY IT WITH YOUR CHEST.”
“I didn’t think you’d want me,” he added quietly.
Amara stepped closer. “I wanted you to choose me instead of deciding for me.”
He nodded. “I can do that.”
She reached for his hand. “Good.”
Their kiss wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t cinematic.
It was nervous and a little crooked and real.
Riley screamed.
Smackle appeared instantly. “I sensed romance.”
Zay leaned against the lockers. “Called it.”
Farkle laughed — actually laughed — and for the first time, didn’t feel like he needed a formula to explain his happiness.
Amara squeezed his hand.
And this time, he didn’t pull away.