|◁ II ▷|

daniel caesar — transform.

THE LIPS OF THE LOTHARIO had almost caused Maya to lose her sense of self as she was the one who had leant in — he almost roped her into a sea of fallen women who had fell victim to the horny beast.

But she gathered her composure at the last minute.

Ebén's heart, or that organ inside his wide chest, was unsurprisingly dark and intense. Lust was this invisible force that caused him to care up until he nutted, then he'd go back to being dark-hearted.

She no longer did question why women ended up giving him the time of day. At the time, she presumed most of them gullibly bought into the things he said. But she knew — now first hand, that the man was annoyingly relentless. He always seemed to be on one hundred; never letting up.

It seemed, to Maya at least, that it was supposedly criminal to leave famished men like him hungry. But she had never been one to part with her self respect at the expense of getting laid.

If the restive woman was going to teach Ebén anything — she wanted him to know that she hated men, and didn't believe in love.

Her heart was as black as they came.

Centre-stage, his deep-brown eyes had her under his purview whilst his other needs were being met. His glimmering smile shot her back a this-could-be-yours look as he let his date claw her way down his pants. Sex was undoubtedly a performance to Ebén — Maya preferred quiet passion in the confines of her bed.

Being the only one in attendance had Maya deeply aroused, but not in the way that she wanted to swap places with Ebén's date, but more that she missed sex — the feeling; but not the intimacy.

She couldn't recall the last time that her own needs had been met and was curious as to when she'd feel those things again.

She found herself recalling the texture of his lips. They didn't taste sour, like she thought they would.

I guess the practice of making out with a lot of woman does help, she mused silently — as she couldn't help but wonder what his number was.

Maya was sure that it had to be something in the thousands, especially with how women were unafraid to boldly throw themselves at him.

And he didn't necessarily object.

He was a single man after all.

Samuel's eyes were wry with slight concern after she made her way back to the table, visibly flustered and a tad bit shaken up. It made Ebén's intentions seem less honourable the more she had a think.

She was just his new, shiny toy until he found something new to play with.

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Blaze hadn't heard her come in last night but that didn't stop her barrage of questions the next morning — especially when she had played Cupid.

"How are you feeling?" she hinted, with a spoonful of scrambled eggs stuffed in her cheeks. She tapped her silver spoon against the ceramic bowl rim; expecting a whole host of things the pair had done.

"Fine?" said Maya, all nonchalant.

She did not have details to tell — well she did, she just wasn't ready to tell them yet.

"So, you're all good down there? No soreness?"

Blaze's attempt at being vague didn't suit her. She liked to be crude, especially with sex and Maya was in the mood to play along — after all, she didn't like the fact that she had been set up.

"Sore? Why would I be?" Maya mused innocuously; adjusting her thrifted glasses on the bridge of her nose and expecting an answer from Blaze.

Blaze let out a huff and a firm shake of the head as her mahogany brown eyes strayed and met Maya's guilty glare, curdling her customary mug of black coffee with no sugar, no milk.

Maya felt Blaze's eyes aggressively crawl on her skin as she, too, waited for an answer.

She had now become defensive, "What?"

Blaze continue to prob, making sure that her gawk was less friendly and much more intrusive, "So, you're not going to tell me?"

Her wobbly lip rumbled as she scrunched up her nose to try and counter Blaze's incessant questioning, "There's nothing to tell?"

Blaze lounged forward, her elbows resting on the counter of the kitchen island, "Are you telling me... that you two didn't even kiss? Even with that dress... that you had on? It was a fuck me dress!"

Blaze's eyes continued to follow Maya's and the feeling of being emotionally unclothed felt dangerous to Maya as it was Blaze that was emotionally undressing her with her words.

Maya wasn't sure how she would find the words, or any words for that matter, to tell Blaze that the person she had wanted to kiss wasn't Samuel; but was Ebén Cástro, the self-confessed man whore.

Blaze seemed to sort of concede, which was surprising, given the journalist that she was.

"Hm, okay" she chuckled, sipping on her coffee. Maya sat there, still, and unsure as to whether she knew but chose to respect her boundaries or whether she had bought Maya's lie.

Maya stepped out on to the smooth-grey pavement with the London winds feeling warm against her skin. She took a minute to gratefully pause — interest in her had suddenly died down. Her flat steps were also free from the mob of paparazzi that had camped outside her flat for almost 36 hours straight.

Her life could finally go back to normal; or whatever that looked like before all of this.

She hopped off the bus and turned into Palmer Street where Havana stood level with other shops; and was met with the same mob of paparazzi taking up a new space to camp out and obstruct her business.

Anyone with an interest to Ebén Cástro congregated outside in search of their leading man. Herds of black-and-white tunnelled cameras sprinted out of the their blocks, and at her, emphatic screams decimating her eardrums.

She didn't even have time to run towards to the back door for safety as the bus stop was positioned directly outside Havana. A wily journalist with mottled teeth complimenting his cubic face swarmed her; leaving her with no room to escape.

She felt an unknown tug against her back and wanted to fling it off until she recognised his body scent. He bulldozed his way through and barged open Brady's efforts in barricading the door.

His chest was still thundering after rescuing her but Maya was somehow his primary concern.

"You alright?"

His rich toned voice was soft and the croak in it was inviting too. He was dressed in a pressed white shirt with tailored black trousers that fit him perfectly.

She ran her palm against her hot cheek, in disbelief at what had just happened. Samuel noticed how quiet she had gotten as he stepped closer, "Maya?"

She couldn't quite believe his heroics; and it made her think long and hard as to why she was so determined to close off her heart when there were men like Samuel wanting to get to know her.

"Um, yeah. Sorry. I'm fine. What are you doing here?"

He bent his left leg, "I wanted to grab something to eat and I just happened to be in the area"

She knew that his work place wasn't close; "You just happened to be in St. Pancreas when your office is at Oval, huh?"

His laugh ignited her chest and felt pure enough that it could water her own drought, "You caught me. I'm starvin'. What would you recommend?"

She threw her apron against the tiled counter; folding her arms underneath her armpits as she asked him the all important question, "Are you a sweet or savoury kinda man?"

He said so seriously, "It depends on what I'm eating" A knowing smirk followed soon after and Maya got exactly what he was trying to imply.

"Cakes. I meant, cakes"

He slowly sat down on the vacant bar stool with his fingers pressed against the glass counter, "Gimme somethin sweet then, please"

She bit her lip, trying to mask the smile that was creeping in and close to over flooding her face, "Sure. I'll get something for you that I made earlier" His eyes trawled after her as she stepped past the counter and the oven, showing no sign of reining it in.

His deep bass voice felt like an overhead speaker as he asked, "So this is all yours?" She stepped out from the back, carrying a tray of whipped buttercream cupcakes. She said bashfully trying to take in every square foot of Havana, "Yeah. It's all mine"

"Your family must be proud"

Family?

She wished that she had one to trudge through life with but she didn't. She was alone and was again reminded why she was always reluctant to open up.

She placed a round plate of whipped buttercream cupcakes with a cream cheese filling in front of Samuel , whose face postured the face of a critic.

He paused as he picked one up, "You look nervous?"

"Shush and eat your cupcake — "

His mouth opened wide as he bit into it — trying to savour the taste as icing smeared across his upper lip. His eyes jutted as he chewed, it was clear he hadn't taste something this sweet in a long time.

"Oh. My. God. This tastes... so good" he chirped, with his mouth full. "What's your secret?"

She shrugged, placing a finger on his cream-covered lip, "You've got a little some thin' on your lip — "

The latch on the door loosened, as a familiar face stumbled in heavily, barging the door shut to paparazzi who were still staking out the front.

"What's with the paps out front?"

Maya squawked with glee at her long-time friend who she hadn't seen in ages, "Rhodes! They think that Ebén Cástro is hiding somewhere in this building"

Rhodes murmured something inaudible but his eyes were more distracted than she had ever seen him.

"What would you like?"

He scanned the chalkboard menus plastering a serious face, in silence, taking occasional glances above her head. He finally said, "Just a box of your avocado macaroons, please"

"A box of 10 or 12?"

His eyes twitched, "Um, 12 please"

She tugged on his sleeve, "Sure, coming right up"

She remembered it, like it was yesterday — when a bombed out and deflated Rhodes stumbled into Havana after losing everything as the result of an acrimonious divorce; 13 or something years go.

After her dad died, he threw himself into his work and then... disappeared.

The love wasn't lost between the two friends but Maya did wonder where he had been.

"You in a rush?" she asked, crouching down with her tongs to pack his order in a carton box.

"Yeah, I'm still on the clock" he gulped, his eyes glued to the back door.

"What's your job ag — "

SPLAT!

Rhodes' eyes suddenly widened, "Maya, wait!"

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A/N: Maya be like..