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It’s warm and bright. The sun hits her face and Maeve flips her hair over her shoulder. Otis, walking to meet her at the abandoned bathroom window, feels something shift in his stomach and stops to collect himself before tapping her on the shoulder. He wishes she had an actual home, instead of hiding away in potentially toxic abandoned buildings. She looks up and hits him with the full force of her smile. He doesn’t know how this “amateur sex clinic” thing is going to work out. But? He wouldn’t give this up for anything.
Maeve tells him things. Sarcastic comments, business info, something she’s thinking or feeling. He files them away, taking in a fuller picture of a girl the world has sold so short. She does the same.
It’s windy. The blustery, anxious weather and impending finals are driving everyone into a frenzy. Everything feels a little off balance – Jackson isn’t the resident genius swimmer anymore, choosing to “figure out who I am, OUTSIDE of the water” instead. Sometimes Otis sees Maeve under his arm (they don’t see each other so much right now. She’s on her way to a million scholarships so there’s less time for the clinic.) and gets scared. She looks closer to getting absorbed into him every day. Jackson is kind and noble and LOVES her with everything, but Maeve doesn’t deserve to be someone’s unintentional appendage. Otis can’t really throw stones though. He’s with Ola more often that not and it’s everything he hoped/thought it would be. Meaning: nice. He’s doing *all the things* one would expect of a typical teenage boy. Things seem good. Things seem good! The mantra loops in his head as Ola grabs his hand, walking towards their next class.
Maeve lifts her head and smiles at him. It’s the ghost of an inside joke neither of them can name anymore. He feels lighter than he has in weeks.
It’s raining, pouring. (she would’ve added some kind of dirty joke) Ola asks him, again, which movie they should see. He can’t focus tonight. The mellow roar of the downpour makes him shiver. He hopes Maeve is dry. He needs to stop thinking about her when his beautiful, brilliant GIRLFRIEND is looking at him with so much patience. Their interactions have involved a lot of patience recently. So. His distraction definitely has nothing to do with his former coworker (still both too busy) and her potential lack of dry housing. He’s pretty sure the trailer leaks and before she would’ve just gone to Jackson’s warm, dry, tense house (place of residence, not home) but they broke up a few days ago. They’d stopped making each other better and starting making the other worse. They’re still friends, still smile in the halls, and she helped him study for a French test, but the “sex part” of the relationship is “OVER”. (As relayed by Eric who somehow sees Maeve more than Otis does nowadays.) Otis can’t deny that “Jaeve” was probably a productive thing in the long term. Jackson’s an actual functional, happy human now, and Maeve’s life is a lot more stable. Love and support are rarely wasted, but Otis can’t shake the nagging truth that he started seeing less of the most dazzling girl he’s ever met just when Jackson started seeing more of her. Love may be limitless, but time is all too finite.
Maeve runs straight into him in the hallway. She’s flipping through a book and Otis silently celebrates the fact that she feels safe enough at school to not have her guard up all the way. They look at each other, without speaking, for longer than would be casual, but he’s too busy memorizing the moment to care.
The small spring leaves are beginning to sprout. Ola has a new boyfriend, one who worships her, and when, late one night, Otis asked her what was wrong with their relationship. “Why did you break up with me.” She replies that ,“Everything was actually really nice. You just wanted me to be someone else.” There are no regrets, but there’s also no desire to get back together. Their solar systems crashed together, and separated back out into greater universes. Upon Eric’s hearty insistence, Otis approaches Maeve one afternoon and asks if she might want to reopen the clinic. “Y’know. To help with college.” She doesn’t hesitate and soon he’s listening to a plethora of sexual frustrations and Amy’s exploits. He missed this, the fixing problems, initiating change, notoriety/fame, and Maeve’s quiet, loud, perfect presence at his side. They fight for each other. He’s never fully appreciated that before. He brings her hot chocolate every morning. Not coffee, she doesn’t like the bitter flavor, but evidently quitting smoking makes a person GROUCHY and warm, liquid sugar is the best solution he’s found so far. She tells him not to, says he can’t pay her, that’s not how the clinic works. It’s not about the clinic, it’s about them. He smiles and walks away, preparing a 5-minutes-from-now text to make her laugh.
She gets into every college. He cheers for her and gets in to many. Eric laughs, rolling in financial aid offers. The future is theirs and it might be bright. She falls asleep on his couch and he can’t help think how much younger she looks like this. Relaxed. Like the world hasn’t disappointed her at every possible turn.
It’s dark. Late. The protective blanket of night surrounds them. Silence. And a vaguely vanilla candle scent. (the oppressive cigarette smell is fading) She stands against the trailer’s kitchen counter, trying to shrink herself away. Otis stands in the center of it all, the middle of her life and takes in the distinctly Maeve detritus that decorates the diminutive building. Some of it breaks his heart. Some makes him smile. She’s showing him her life and he’s never been more grateful. (it only took a year and a half! Mental self-five!) Otis notices the sweater-he-never-got-back next to a pillow. He says nothing. She uncurls a little more. They inhabit the space together until her head is tucked under his chin. He smells her rose shampoo (only an unsurprising choice to those who don’t know her) and in the silence her lips find his. It’s nothing like what it’s been with anyone else. The mechanics are the same but she’s Maeve and he’s Otis. No time between them has been wasted, it’s all made his life a million times better, but he could die happy now. But he won’t, because he wants to do this again and again. Forever. They are irrevocably linked. Somewhere between “hi” and *here’s a picture of cartoon tits* they have wound their way into the other.
The rest of high school happens. They are finally, finally together and sometimes Otis is overwhelmed by his luck. He brings her hot chocolate and she kisses him and orates her new favorite quote of that day. They graduate. The remaining loose ends are not malicious.
College happens. They study and grow and break up for a few months but the ensuing misery drives home the fact that they simply really, really, really like each other. If one knows the key to their happiness and said key is an enthusiastic and consensual participant than only a truly scared person would live without that. Otis and Maeve are done being scared. The clinic makes an occasional comeback. Helping people is a hard thing to quit. They talk and share and figure it out. A little more every day.
They graduate, each with their respective degree and then? Then it’s just life.
It’s warm. Bright. Forgiving. Sunlight tracks across Otis’s sleeping face. Maeve smiles, almost unconsciously. She gently places her legs atop his, pulls the blanket over both their heads, and burrows against him. They have the time.