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It only took Trey a few long strides until he was by her side making their way out of the building and down to a path that weaved through neighboring apartment complexes, into campus grounds, wound back through a few more buildings and would eventually return them to Maybelle’s apartment.
“How are classes going?” He asked as they left the vicinity of her apartment dorm.
Maybelle was currently biting the inside of her cheek as she focused on walking fast with caution, taking soft steps that didn’t bother her knee.
Couple mornings prior she had stumbled at the end of their walk trying to climb the stairs to her apartment and had bruised her knee in the process.
Maybelle didn’t leave her sprawled spot on the stairs for a solid ten minutes, fuming with frustration with the lack of control over her tired limbs. Trey hadn’t said anything, only took a seat next to Maybelle on the steps, allowing her to rest her head against his shoulder while he wrapped her up in his arms.
He still thought it was too reckless that she would risk herself by pushing her body so hard, but he also was starting to understand more of why she did, with each of their morning walks. Maybelle was the embodiment of what it meant to live and not just survive. Even after all the shit of losing her family, losing her memories, and her coma she would not sit still, or just merely exist. She would not let one day pass her by without progress, accomplishment and memories made.
Maybelle wanted to wake up, so she did.
Maybelle wanted to walk, and she did.
Maybelle wanted to run, and Trey guessed you could call whatever the hurried, super jerky walk she did could be considered running. Now Maybelle wanted to sprint, make friends, go to college, create a name for herself and she would, she was.
“Uhm, what the hell even is algebra?” Maybelle finally griped in answer to his question he had almost forgotten about, “I don’t know if i’m just dumb or what, but I am utterly screwed.” She finished heaving a frustrated breath, slowing her speed to a calm stroll as she caught her breath.
“Have you tried finding a tutor or a study group?” Trey asked and Maybelle immediately puffed a curt exhale.
“Yeah, I met up with a couple kids after class one day and I couldn’t follow a thing they said. They could have been speaking a foreign, dead language and I wouldn’t know the difference.” Maybelle bellyached as they rounded a corner of a building that no longer shielded them from the harsh light of the morning sun that crested the horizon.
“Do you want help? Like a private tutor?” Trey asked, hiding the knowing smirk that teased his mouth. Maybelle didn’t notice, her eyes remained tracked on the path.
“If you know someone, send them my way, I will take all the help I can get.”
Now his smirk was on full display.
“Ok, I can fit you in Sunday mornings. We can meet before each of your exams to make sure you are ready for them.” He planned while Maybelle side-eyed him.
“Thanks, but no.” Maybelle turned her full attention back to the path, fortunately missing Trey's jaw clench.
“And why not?”
“Because.”
“Mayhem.”
“Turner?”
Trey sighed, frustrated with the laughter that bubbled at the back of his throat.
“You’re being complicated for no reason.” He argued.
Maybelle picked up her speed again, “I’m not trying to be annoying; I don’t want you to help me because I know how busy you already are.” She admitted.
Trey honestly was surprised, surprised that she noticed his loaded schedule and that she wasn’t saying no to be stubborn but thoughtful. Not that Maybelle wasn’t thoughtful but since deciding to bejust friendsMaybelle seemed to have a mission inmaking his efforts to take care of her nearly impossible. Like if she were to agree to any of his offers of help, she would be letting him in too close.
“I know Sundays are your only day off, I don’t want to take up the little time you have. I appreciate the offer though.” Maybelle began to skip, walk which was what Trey determined to be her attempt at a run.
He widened his walking strides to keep up.
“Maybelle.”
He knew that would get her attention; he rarely used her first name. The name too cute, too adorable to call the infuriating woman he found so unbearably attractive. And calling her Mayhem always brought a gleam to her eyes that challenged him in the best sort of ways.
Maybelle stopped her lame trot, she quit moving all together, facing him fully, giving him her undivided attention.
