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If Victoria Chase hates one thing, it's: fake people, people who don't know how to dress properly, slouching, quirkiness in any form, the overly sincere, girls who don't even try to makeup, genuine artistic talent shackled to low ambition, clumsiness, people who think a bad hair day is for life and not just an opportunity to wear a hat sometimes, the utterly bullshit social affliction that is 'shyness', time wasters, daydreamers, pretentious hipster 'cool', and freckles.
Victoria is aware that this far from exhaustive list contains more than one thing, but in the last few weeks she's discovered that all of those things apply to one person: Maxine "Max" Caulfield.
Victoria hates her. She hates the way Max shuffles around Blackwell Academy, acting humble and lugging an antique camera around while every photo she's shared with the class loudly proclaims the talent she pretends she's embarrassed about. She hates the way that Max does nothing with the almost breathtaking bone structure that genetics have granted her. She especially hates the liberal quanitity of freckles that spoil her smooth, pink skin and make it perfectly imperfect.
"You're, like, staring again," Taylor Christensen whispers.
Taylor is arguably Victoria's best friend. She's whispering because they're in class and Victoria is...glaring at Maxine, because she's sitting there, scribbling idly in her journal and gaping open-mouthed at their droning teacher and she's wearing a dull grey hoodie and a just so cute graphic t bearing the image of a deer and her hair looks like it was combed by a fucking deer with a thorn bush and Victoria kind of wants to run her fingers through Max's thick, brown hair.
To...see if any leaves fall out.
Victoria wrenches her gaze away, rolls her eyes at Taylor and waits for the droning to end and the group work to begin. When it finally does, after minutes that stretch out in a way that makes Victoria wonder why Einstein is considered such hot shit for figuring out what every teenager in class already knows, Victoria opens her notebook, picks up her pencil and frowns.
Victoria looks at Taylor and says, "Give me a sharpener. My pencil's broken."
Taylor blinks. "Uh...Vic, I don't have...I use a pen! Don't you, usually...like, where's your Mont Blanc?"
Victoria narrows her eyes. "I need more ink. So..." She waves the pencil.
Taylor shrugs. "Oh, well...I don't..."
Victoria glares harder at Taylor, silently urging her on in what should be a simple logical deduction.
"Um..." Slowly, Taylor turns her head, peering over Victoria's shoulder. Slowly, her eyes brighten and her lips curve up. "Why not ask Max? She's bound to have one. She's always got that pencil case on display. It's, like, her best friend."
Victoria fights the urge to pat Taylor on the head for finally arriving at the obvious. Instead, she makes a face. "Ugh. But then I'd have to talk to her."
Taylor pauses, considering. Finally, she raises an eyebrow. "Um...so...?"
"So? I hate Max Caulfield. Bring a fucking sharpener tomorrow, so I don't have to face this humiliation again."
Victoria gets up and crosses to Max's table where she and Kate Marsh are quietly discussing either the course work or which of them is the shyest, most pathetic social reject in the school.
Since that conversation could go on forever without any clear loser being decided, Victoria takes a second to quickly wipe her palms on her skirt, check her hair, and compose her features into a bored sneer before she leans over Max's desk, placing a palm on Max's open jotter and leaning into Max's space.
Max flinches and jerks back in her seat. She looks up at Victoria, and she coughs and turns red and for a moment Victoria's worried that Max has swallowed her tongue. And that would be a disaster, because Victoria would probably have to use her pen to give Max an emergency tracheotomy and then everyone would know that she still has ink in her pen and they might figure out that she broke her pencil deliberately before coming into class.
Luckily for Victoria, Max manages to recover before intervention is necessary. "Victoria! Uh, what are you...is something wrong?"
Max smells like cheap shampoo and cheaper deodorant and clean, firm skin and it's almost enough to turn Victoria's stomach, being this close to her. Certainly her muscles tighten and her stomach churns.
Certainly there's a tightness in her voice and a tremor in her legs when Victoria says, "I need a pencil sharpener. Get it the fuck together, Max. You think I'd run to you with a real problem?"
Max flushes. "Not at all, Victoria," she says, stiffly. "Um...could you move?"
"Excuse me? Do you have a fucking sharpener or not?"
And Max looks her in the eye, and shit her eyes are so blue, and Victoria has never hated any shade of blue until she saw this one, and she hates it so much her breath catches and all her words are lost to the sound of drums pounding in her temples.
Max says, nervously, "I, uh, sure? But...your arm? It's, uh, it's in the way?"
Victoria huffs out a breath at last and quickly stands up, crossing her arms. She doesn't find any words while Max roots through her pencil case, a process that is lengthened by the nervy little looks she keeps shooting at Victoria.
At length, Max produces a yellow plastic sharpener and quickly holds it up on the palm of her hand. "Here!"
She tries to smile, but it looks more like a grimace, and she seems to realise that, because she abandons the attempt and settles for biting her lip.
Victoria watches Max's neat white teeth nibble at her chapped lower lip and scoops the sharpener out of her palm, brushing her fingers across Max's soft, warm skin. Max flinches, her lips parting in surprise, maybe, and her eyes are so very blue and wide and Victoria realises that she's been staring at Max's face again, and Max is staring back, worried.
Victoria looks away. "Right. Good. Took you long enough."
She pauses, tucking a strand of her short blonde hair behind her ear, caught abruptly in a moment that she can't gracefully escape. She's lingered too long to leave now without it looking weird, and she can't think of anything to say to justify her pausing by Max's table this long without it looking weirder.
Victoria flicks a glance at Kate, but Kate is reading over her notes, carefully not paying any attention to them.
Max suddenly blurts, "I didn't know you used...pencils." Her face reddens. "Uh, I mean...obviously you can...but...you always have that fountain pen and..."
Max runs out of words and out of spine. She slouches in her seat, averting her eyes.
Victoria shifts, cocking her hip, and snorts. "Please tell me you're not going to bring this kind of scintillating repartee to the party tonight?"
Max looks up. "Party? There's a...Vortex Club thing? You're...inviting-"
"No! Christ, you think I'm looking for a fucking date, Max? There's a party in the gym tonight. People do go to parties? For things like fun? I don't give a shit if you do or don't, just try not to fucking bore me if you do."
Max gapes at her, rubbing and rubbing at the skin on the back of her neck, maybe hoping to encourage some of the blood that's reddening her face to flow somewhere less visible.
"I, uh, I didn't even know there was a, uh, party, so..."
"It wasn't a fucking secret. Maybe pay more attention to what's happening around you?"
Max gives her a weird look. "Uh...yeah. Maybe I should..."
Suddenly, Victoria feels uncertain. "Maybe if you get your bangs trimmed sometime, that'd help?"
And that's as good a time as any to go, before Mrs Hoida's timid look of disapproval becomes a reprimand that makes it look as though Victoria Chase had to be instructed not to spend time with Max Caulfield. As if there could something she'd hate more than having to spend more time with Max, especially when she's looking at Victoria like...that.
Victoria sharpens her pencil at the bin beside Mrs Hoida's desk, one glare enough to make her teacher think better of saying anything about how long Victoria's been out of her seat, and thinks about what she's going to wear tonight and tries not to think about whether or not Max will be there.
Victoria strides quickly to Max's desk, but this time, when she looms over the smaller girl, Max looks up and quickly shakes her head. "Keep it. I have a spare. And you might need it later."
Victoria frowns. "I...fine. I'll give it back in Photography tomorrow."
"O-okay. If you need it longer, though..."
"I won't."
"Well...maybe see you tonight?"
Kate glances up at that, looking almost as surprised as Victoria feels.
Victoria says, "Don't expect me to talk to you if you come in wearing that fucking hoodie. It's a party. Dress up."
Max rolls her eyes. "Right. Of course..."
She pauses, her face scrunched up in...thought? Annoyance? Victoria fully intends to walk away, but for some reason, her legs won't obey her and she stays just the width of a desk away from Max for just a second longer.
Long enough for Max to work up the courage to blurt, "It's comfortable."
Victoria understands what she means, but she just says, "What?"
She hates how stupid Max makes her sound, sometimes.
Max wriggles in her seat, working up to the effort of moving her neck so that she can look at Victoria again. "My hoodie. My clothes. I mean, I know I'm not...I could never look..." She hesitates, blushing. "Like you. B-but I'm comfortable. So...uh, you don't need to...be...mean."
Victoria sucks in a breath. "Look...ugh, whatever. I don't care." Victoria turns away, wrestling with her suddenly clumsy body. She pauses, gritting her teeth. "Just...it takes effort. Don't claim you can't do something if you won't even try. That's bullshit. That's a shitty way to live. Whatever you're doing."
Max stares at her, obviously shocked. "Uh...wowser..."
"Such dialogue! Much eloquent!"
To Victoria's surprise, Max actually smiles. "I'll try to...make more of an effort. Tonight. I guess. Thanks for...not inviting me..."
Victoria fights the urge to bite her lip, or shuffle her feet, or fiddle with her hair, or do any of the other involuntary things that could expose her in a moment of weakness. She says, "You'd better..."
Not trusting herself to say any more, afraid that she's said too much, Victoria abruptly turns and strides stiffly to her seat. She sits, aware of Max's eyes on her back and Taylor's sly smile in front of her.
Taylor says, "So, um...did you, like, get what you were looking for?"
Victoria glares at her. She tosses Max's sharpener onto the table. "I've got a headache. I fucking hate Max Caulfield."
Taylor nods, glancing at Max's table. "So...did you just, like, invite Max to the party?"
"No!"
Taylor nods again, meeting Victoria's eye, and smiling gently. "Want me to do your makeup tonight?"
Taylor Christensen is inarguably Victoria's best friend.
"...Yes." Victoria hunches her shoulders and looks at her nice sharp pencil. "Please."