I'M NOT YOUR WOMAN. (✓)

09. relentless.

Her murky-brown eyes jutted at Maya as though her not telling was the worst betrayal since Kylie and Jordyn. She slobbered more ice-cream to mask her shock. "So, were you going to tell me?"

Maya wanted to lie (and was incredibly tempted to) say that she would only tell Blaze when she was good and ready but she knew she didn't have the stomach to lie through her teeth, "Nope. Not really" Blaze was now offended by Maya not mincing her words as she said with a strained pitch, "Why not?"

"Cus you would have probably forced me to go" Maya glowered; her tone matter-of-factly, powering her knees up from the sinking sofa as her blanket draped along the wooden floor languidly.

She could sense that Blaze followed her into the kitchen — not so ready to end the conversation prematurely. In Blaze's mind, Maya had become painfully anti-social since her father passed, making no attempt to rid herself from the physical and burdensome sag of grief. She lived with his grey cloud and was desperate for an outpouring of some sunshine; even if it was only temporary.

"You're right. I would have — "

"And that is why I didn't want to tell you"

Blaze chose to spark with her next question, "Would it be the worst thing... to go?"

Maya slumped her elbows against the kitchen island, letting out a twenty-second or so pause, trying not to break out in irritation. Blaze didn't understand — how could she? She was so receptive to people whilst Maya was a lot more closed off, naturally.

"It really would, Blaze" Maya said, defiantly.

She paused to take a lick of her spoon, her eyebrows curved in the shape of an arch, "And what about him?" she hinted, pointing to the contact illuminated on her screen.

"I'm not holding him hostage?"

Her spoon then clattered against the ice cream carton box as it left her mouth, "It kinda sounds like he wanted you to come with him?"

She hunched her shoulders up in an oh-well sort of shrug. She didn't owe him her attendance, and Samuel was man enough to understand. 

Blaze sat on the edge of the counter, persistent with the circling of her big brown eyes. She let out small but strained intermittent hisses and the occasional eye roll. Maya tried to ignore these noises but couldn't bare any more silence.

She clanged the washed utensils on the drying rack before turning to hear her out, "Okay, what is it?"

Blaze vehemently shook her head, backing away as her nimble feet left squeaky marks on the tiled floor.

Maya held the washing towel to her waist, trying to swat Blaze into talking but she chose silence. So, she turned her attention back to the mountain of soap.

Blaze let a barrage of words dart out of her mouth, leaving no room to take a pause, "Samuel is a great guy. So great, and... I just think — "

She tilted her head towards Blaze who was still yapping, "I feel like there's a but coming now?"

She was apprehensive to say a very thing that was burdening her tongue and then suddenly, she just blurted it all out, "I know that grief is... a life long thing but I worry about you Maya. You haven't lived since your Daddy passed and you're just — existing? You chalk off men that are interested in getting to know you, you don't do anything and I... just worry that I won't ever get my best friend back — "

"B, I'm fine. Honest?"

Blaze croaked, full of disbelief, "Maya, I've known you for 18 years, you're not fine — "