Big thanks to chibi-chan 2013, Secret Serendipity, Shizuka Ayasato ( to answer your question, yes, I do like Taylor Swift- so much, I've even seen her in concert :'D), ChocoboMuffins, Icypixie, TheSylverBlue, Naoko Suki and , you're all too kind! Wow, I can hardly believe how well this story's gone down. I'm seriously not used to all these reviews so thanks again! :') I'm in the middle of another Phoenix/Maya story, only the one I'm working on is a lot longer and probably even more angsty (If that's possible!). Sorry, that's blatant advertising and I haven't even put it up yet so I dunno why I'm basically asking for reviews already. :L
Anyway, onto the final chapter. Hope everyone likes it.
I had to get out of there, I didn't want him to see my crying like this. I mean, it's so silly, I know I'm jumping ahead of myself, assuming he'll want me to move out and her to move in, but I can't help it. I feel angry, jealous and betrayed.
Thing is, it was pointless because a second later the door's open again and he's standing there, in the door frame where I was earlier, his arms are crossed and he looks more confused than he looks angry. "Maya . . . what do you mean by "love nest"? And more importantly, when did I get a girlfriend?"
But I'm crying like an idiot now, face buried in hands, lying on my front on my bed. "Please, just leave me alone."
"I can't do that until you explain what you're on about? Because I'm starting to think we may have our wires crossed."
I sniff, "I don't know who she is, okay? But I know you like someone and you'll want them to move in at some point so I might as well move out as soon as possible. And I know I'm crying and I seem like I'm really upset, but I don't care really. I-I'm fine . . . more than fine- I'm really pleased you met someone, but please just go away."
He's still not leaving though, instead he's sat down on the bed, next to me and put his hand on my shoulder. I feel my heart start beating faster. This has to be the worst time to start fancying my best friend ever. I can't help but wonder if things would be different If I'd just realised a month earlier, when he started acting weirdly.
"Maya . . I've got no idea where you got this "girlfriend" thing from. Literally, no idea. I definitely don't have one. Why would you think that?"
Still sniffing, and not lifting my head from my arms I reply, but feeling decidedly better now he's said he doesn't have a girlfriend I reply: "I can't think of any other reason why you've become so obsessed with how you look, and then you said you want to look nice now. I j-just thought you must be trying to impress s-someone-"
"I was trying to impress someone, Maya . . . but it wasn't some girl. It . . " he paused, he hear him take a deep breath. "It was you."
I'm not sure what to say and my heart's beating uncontrollably fast. So fast, I'm scared it might explode. "Wh-what?" I just about manage to stutter out, twisting my head around to look at him.
He looks really embarrassed now, but speaks anyway. "I'm really sorry, I mean, I thought it was obvious . . . I never even thought you might think there was someone else . . ."
I sit up, still unable to speak unfortunately. My mind seems to be processing the information very slowly and I feel so happy I literally feel like I could float away.
"Look, I know it's ridiculous- me liking you. I mean, you're too young for me; way too pretty and funny and kind . . . I was going to tell you when we got back. I was even practising when you walked in earlier and I would've said something before if you hadn't gotten all mad at me . . . I thought you were annoyed because of how I felt-"
"Never." I said, finally. "I thought-" but he cut me off.
"I think we've both put way too much up to assumptions."
We're looking at each other, his eyes are baring down into mine. I want to kiss him so bad, that face is almost too perfect to be real.
"I thought you liked someone else . . . but you don't?" I said, shakily, one more time to really confirm that I hadn't somehow misinterpreted what he'd said. I seemed to have done that a lot lately.
He shook his head, "Who could measure up to you?Who would cheer me up the way you do and make me smile without even having to try. Who would force me into watching lame movies and force me to buy them burgers all the time? Most importantly, who would clean the toilet when I'm sick- ouch!"
I'd hit him with my pillow playfully. He nudged my arm with his fist, looked me straight in the eyes and said completely seriously: "There's no one else; only you."
And then he placed his hands on me shoulders and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around his waste and held him close to me, tears inexplicably falling down my face and onto our joined mouths.
"Are you crying?" he asked, breaking away and looking concerned.
I nodded and sniffed, grabbing a tissue, not wanting him put off already with a snotty nose. "Y-yes, but don't worry. It's just, I'm so happy. I didn't even know how I felt about you until-"
He smiled a little and wiped a tear away with his thumb. "Well, in that case, I'm very glad you got the wrong end of the stick, because I'd have just been rejected."
"I would've realised eventually, it's been staring me in the face for weeks now but I never understood why I felt the way I did." I looked at him again and I was glad to see he barely seemed barely able to contain his joy as well.
"You're so beautiful-" he said, playing with my hair. We were still sitting on my bed, I realised. I'd gotten so caught up in the moment, I'd forgotten where we were.
"So are you." He smiled down at me and my stomach rumbled loudly. Apparently, now the crisis was over, my appetite had returned.
"Hungry?" Nick asked, clearly he'd heard too.
"Ah, sorry, I just killed the romance, didn't I?" I replied, blushing a little and silently cursing my constant hunger.
He just laughs though, "No, you're adorable. How about those burgers we were going to get?"
"That sounds perfect." I reply, because it really does.
Someone once said that miscommunication leads to fallout, but for once, it's somehow done the opposite. It showed me feelings I didn't even know I had.
I still can't help but wonder if things would have gone a little smoother if I had just asked him why he'd been acting strangely, though.
Oh well, I suppose it's more about the journey that the destination, I think as we stand up, my hand in his as he leans over to kiss me, again.
Then again, when the destination's this good, who cares how we got here?