A/N: For any of you confused, I have taken the liberty of assuming that Maeve & Otis date in Moordale after Season 2, and they mutually break up because they head to different universities. Just a clarification. Anyways, here's chapter 2!

Otis tripped and fumbled his way into the lecture hall, closing the door behind as quietly as possible. However, it did make a great bang with his usual clumsiness. He got a few glares from the people in the back who were slightly annoyed at his interruptance. He gave them one of his awkward, apologetic smiles and a small wave.

He took a seat on the back of the auditorium and looked up to see Maeve presenting. There was a stand with her book on it. The projector was running in the background with some feminist artwork that Maeve was explaining to the audience. Otis noticed a packed house, and everyone seemed to be engrossed in whatever analysis was coming out of Maeve's mouth. Her voice had a soft drone to it, and it filled the auditorium like a sweet lullaby. It was a little challenging to see her from the position he was in, but he could catch glimpses of her wandering the stage, her hands making excited gestures. When he had first seen her backstage, what had struck him the most was the way she was dressed. Her usual t-shirt, shorts, and fishnets that he remembered were abandoned. Instead, she wore a white blouse with high-waisted palazzos, a navy blazer, and gold jewellery along with her usual layered necklaces. It was odd, but a right kind of odd, it suited her. Her brown hair was still shoulder length and split down the middle with her baby hairs tucked behind her ears. She looked beautiful, he thought. Stop it, Milburn, you're not together anymore. That could be seen as an objectification, you perv. He quickly snapped out of his thoughts, deciding instead to focus on Maeve's presentation instead. It was too dangerous to go down the other path.

Maeve is interrupted from her presentation for a second as she hears a loud bang ring in the auditorium. Her eyes flickered over to the source of the sound, and she noticed the door slamming shut along with a flash of grey. The corner of her mouth perked up just a tiny bit as she recognized the suit and the lanky figure. He came back, oh my god, that idiot. A dash of hope tears through her body, but she stomps it down, as she has done so many times lately. Maeve snaps out of her thoughts and continues with her lecture, this time with a smile on her face.

"Wasn't so bad, was it? Talking and shit?" Otis asks with a grin on his face as he meets her backstage for the second time today.

"Oh, fuck off!" Maeve adds as she walks up, passing the thick red curtains.

He moves towards her and opens his hands up as he was expecting a hug. She hesitates for a second, unsure if she'll be able to let go once he holds her. She steps into it, though, and his freakishly long arms wrap around her and squeeze her. He still smells like the cologne 70-year old retirees wear. Well, some things never change, Maeve thought. The hug lingers, way too long to be of one of just friends.

As they both pull apart, Otis asks, "Do you know why I came back?"

"To learn about the beautiful intricacies of feminist literature and artwork of the 1960s and how Sylvia Plath directly influenced them?"

"That, and also because I had to make sure you didn't pass out, you know? Speaking seems to be rather hard for you. Expressing feelings? Not really your thing," Otis says with a smirk.

Maeve gives Otis a friendly punch in the shoulder to which he bends over dramatically and feigns pain. She hides a smile as speaks,

"Excuse me? Are you sure you're really Otis Milburn? The one I knew was a cute guy, kinda shy; he also happened to be nice,"

"There she is. Already taking a dig at me after meeting each other for 5 minutes? That's the Maeve Wiley I know,"

"Know? We haven't seen each other in 6 years, Otis." Maeve says with a raise of an eyebrow.

"Which is exactly why we should go get a cuppa and catch up. For old times sake?"

"Otis, it's noon. I think lunch would be more accurate."

"Lunch then? I know a great café nearby," he pleads. His puppy dog eyes were out, and he was unconsciously biting his lower lip, which was doing everything to Maeve.

"Fine, she said. "But I've only got an hour."

"Alright, Ms. Kardashian. Let's go."

They're sitting outside, on metal chairs, the gloomy London sky overcast over them. The waiter had just come by, and they had each placed their orders. Neither of them had broken the silence; instead, they were observing each other. It was a shock seeing each other after so long. After leaving Moordale, they had grown apart, Maeve winning the school scholarship and attending Cambridge. In contrast, Otis had moved to London with Eric and Adam.

"You have glasses now," Maeve remarks.

"Observant, aren't you?" Otis jokes. "Not sure if I was blinded by Eric's vibrant pieces of clothing or the rays of sunshine you emitted when we were dating, but yeah, I got these bad boys a few years ago."

"Please, do not refer to anything as bad boys again," Maeve said with a groan. "You finally got out of the hell hole then? You were so petrified to leave."

"Got my ass dragged by Eric and Adam to The Great Wen. Shared a shitty flat with them. Went to Imperial. Got my degree. Became a therapist. Started a clinic. Wrote a book." Otis mentioned with a wistful smile. "I thought you were up north, fancying it up with the smart kids at Cambridge?"

"Hilarious Milburn. Nah, I graduated a few years ago. Got my Ph.D. Moved to London on a whim. Got a job as a professor. Wrote a shitty book that apparently people really like for no reason." she added with a sigh. As if on queue, a passer-by came up to her. Otis had noticed him staring at her for a while from a distance, as if building up his confidence to come up to her.

"Hi, are you Maeve Wiley?" The unknown individual stammered, spitting the words out.

"The one and only," Maeve said with a plastered grin.

"Could you sign my copy of the book?" he asked her shyly.

"Yeah, sure, of course," Maeve replied.

Out of nowhere, with some newfound confidence, the mystery man quipped, "Is that your boyfriend? You could do better, you know? I could write my number down if you wanted."

Otis held back his laughter and looked at Maeve with amusement, a twinkle in his eyes.

"I'm fine; thank you. Here's your book." Maeve replied with a stiff voice.

The stranger wandered off, muttering something about standards that women held these days.

"You've changed," Otis commented. He also noticed how Maeve didn't deny that Otis wasn't her boyfriend. Interesting, he thought.

"Perceptive."

Otis bit down on his laugh, holding back a smile. Instead, he looked up and stated, "The old Maeve would probably have flipped that man off and thrown the book at his head along with your shoe.

"I've grown," Maeve stated plainly. He's right, she thought internally. How does he fucking read me this well after so many years, she pondered. They had both changed, she realized. There was something about Otis. He had grown more confident, less awkward. It was how he carried himself, the way he was walking, and how he didn't hesitate to make jokes and remarks on her performance. But deep down, she could still see the same Otis she had known as a teenager. It was evident that he still wore the ancient cologne, his kind eyes, and his teasing nature.

"Aah, grown." Otis reflected with a hint of sarcasm. She wasn't wrong, Otis thought. In some ways, she was right. She always was. They both were indeed different. Maeve was still feisty; her sarcastic spark was still there. I think it's impossible for her to lose that, Otis pondered with a smirk. But there was a part of her that was unlike her 17-year-old self. Otis couldn't quite place it, but he wasn't yet sure if he liked it.

"You wouldn't understand, you were always as tall as a giraffe. Besides, you've always had the emotional intelligence of a 65-year-old." she scoffs.

"Ah, I see. The double entente." In a sudden haste to change the subject, Otis asks, "Are you seeing anybody then?"

"You know, the usual," Maeve replied cryptically.

"Actually, I don't know. As you have pointed out multiple times this afternoon, it's been six years, so please do enlighten me." Otis said innocently. In fact, he did know. He knew that it meant that Maeve had set her walls up again, sticking to casual dating, and one-night stands, never really letting anyone in completely to know her. She was distancing herself, playing with hearts. If anyone else was foolish enough to think they understood Maeve Wiley, their relationship ended with heartbreak.

Otis gives her a long look, one that makes Maeve extremely uncomfortable, as she was a statue at those history museums she liked to frequent. Words went unspoken, but they both sat there in silence, trying to figure out how much the other had changed since their relationship. They seemed to be communicating telepathically, trying to read what lies between the friendly teasing and banter. Things they couldn't say out loud. It was a long time since Maeve had felt so vulnerable, yet she wasn't doing anything particularly emotional. She broke the silence with a question of her own, "What about you then? Are you seeing someone?"

"Not at the moment. I was, but that's a long story." Otis states. At that very moment, the waiter returns with their order. He watches as Maeve disassembles her burger, and replaces the insides with the chips that came on the side. A soft smile plays on his face, as he remembers the times she had done so similarly when they had gone to fast food chains as teenagers. He starts picking on his sandwich.

The rest of the afternoon passes as they catch up on what the other Moordale students were up to. Otis learns from Maeve that Aimee had moved to Paris, and from some, God's miracle learned how to bake properly. She had started her own little bakery, to the amusement of Otis, who prayed for her customers. Maeve learned from Otis that Eric had taken up fashion and had left a remarkable scene in the upcoming London scene. On the other hand, Adam had become a veterinarian, starting his little clinic in a nearby borough. Maeve raised an eyebrow at that, and they both laughed over the image.

"You should meet them sometime. They're in London. Maybe you could come over for dinner sometime? I could make my roast chicken." Otis says with a wink.

"Maybe, I'll think about it," Maeve replies with a smirk. At that moment, she looks down at her watch and realizes that she had only had an hour.

"Fuck, I have to go. Book signings, you know how it goes," Maeve exclaims as she stands up hurriedly with an apologetic glance.

"God, your agent's going to go ballistic, you better go. It was nice meeting you, Maeve." Otis says with a smile.

"You too, Otis."

And with that, Maeve walks away, leaving both of them questioning their strange encounter. Though it was filled with amicable banter and chats, there was an underlying tone that Otis knew they both felt. The way their hands had brushed or how they would catch each other stares ever so often. There was something there. It was then that Otis realized he had never gotten around to getting Maeve's number, leaving them no way to contact each other.

A/N: Thank you for reading through all of that. Please let me know what you thought of it! Also, I would recommend all of you to check out the website " .co" A lot is happening in the world right now, and the first step to combating it would be educating yourself. Anyways, thank you!