Work Text:
Rachel's busy moving into the dorms when she notices the new kid with all the freckles. She's cute, if clearly shy as fuck, blushing whenever Dana walks out of her room wearing a tank top and boyshorts. It's not anything scandalous, and it's not enough for most of the other girls here to even blink in response to, so when Rachel sees the girl blush fire-engine red, she makes a little mental note.
She has, honestly, a ton of stuff, and moving it in on her own is exhausting. Chloe's pissed at her for blowing her off to hang out with Frank, Frank's pissed at her for still hanging out with Chloe, and her parents are pissed at her for moving into the dorms rather than staying with them. She tried explaining to them that she just wanted some independence, some space to figure herself out, but James had found the weed she hid in her dresser, so the conversation ended up turning into a screaming match, and she'd ended up angrier than she meant to be and said, "it's not like either of you are my family anyway," and she ended up dropped off by the dorm without anyone to help her.
After taking three or four boxes into room 224, her back is killing her and her head aches, and she wishes all the parents would get out of here so it could be quiet and she could sneak a cigarette. (Frank won't sell her anything until she apologizes. Fuck that.) But unfortunately, it's barely noon, so she decides to go bother someone until she feels slightly more like a person.
Dana's busy moving and flirting with Trevor, who Rachel's pretty sure isn't allowed in the dorms even now, but she's not a snitch, so she just winks at Dana and keeps walking down the hall. There's someone playing violin in one of the rooms, and Victoria's lounging on her couch in the hall while what looks like a professional moving crew brings all her stuff in. The girl with all the freckles, in contrast, is struggling to get her couch into the room across from Victoria. Even though, ostensibly, Rachel's just trying to take a break from moving, she feels bad for her, so she grabs the other end.
"What? Oh! Thanks, um--" The girl trails off.
Rachel smiles. "Rachel! What's your name?"
"Max," the girl says, and Rachel repeats it, sounding the name out like it's something difficult and not a one-syllable word. Max blushes again, and the two of them finish pulling the couch in and setting it against one of the walls.
"Thank you," Max says, and Rachel smiles at her. "So what are you here for?"
"Modeling," Rachel says enthusiastically. "Although I'm in the photography program. Oh, and also taking a couple extra English classes. It'll help with law school."
"Wow," Max says, looking a little anxious, now, and Rachel feels bad all of a sudden. She hasn't even said anything mean! "I'm, uh, here for photography. Is everyone here so, um..."
"Overachieving?" Rachel says, and Max nods. "Nah. I'm kind of special. Can I see any of your photos?"
Max blinks a little. "Oh! Sure." She heads over to the desk, still mostly bare, and grabs what looks like a scrapbook. "Uh, these are older, but it's all I have unpacked."
Rachel leans over to look, slightly in Max's personal bubble, and pretends she doesn't notice Max look at her, surprised. "These are cool shots."
They're of Seattle, mostly--Rachel recognizes the skyline--but they're not "city" shots. (Rachel doesn't know photography terms yet. That's what coming here is for.) They're of people, going about their lives. A bird with its wings spread, perched on top of a statue, about to take off. A scoop of ice cream falling off the scoop of a woman utterly distracted by someone performing on the street. A skateboarder, a mom holding her kid (both of their faces not towards the camera), an older butch sticking her tongue out towards the camera while her partner looks down at their entwined hands.
"These shots are so cool," Rachel says. "You, like, capture these moments that someone might never notice if you hadn't caught it."
Max blushes again and closes the scrapbook. Rachel really likes her blush. "Um. Thank you. That's why I like analog."
"Wait, these aren't even from a digital camera?" Rachel wants to grab the scrapbook and look through it more, but something in her wants, more than anything, to keep that small, disbelieving smile on Max's face. "Dude. You're so talented. You have to take my photo sometime."
"Oh! Because you want to be a model." Max nods. "I haven't ever worked with a model before. I usually just take shots as I see them."
"You watch the world from behind a lens," Rachel says, hoping it sounds insightful. Max nods. "That's cool."
"Really?" Max asks.
"Yeah!"
Max smiles again, and Rachel internally pumps her fist in the air. "Well. Thank you."
"For working with you? That's a favor to me," Rachel says. "I mean, if I'm gonna give people my headshots, I better have an actual photographer take my photo."
Max's blush deepens, from a pink to almost fuchsia, and Rachel could look at her for hours. Fuck. She hasn't had a crush on someone this quick since Chloe. "I, uh. I have to finish moving."
"Me too," Rachel says with a little frown. "I'd offer to help, but I have all my stuff sitting on the sidewalk."
"No one helping you?" Max asks.
Rachel shakes her head. "My family and friends are all pretty pissed at me." It's too honest, but she feels like Max won't judge her.
Max's eyes widen a little, but she doesn't say anything. "Well. All my stuff's in the hallway, now, so maybe I can help you bring your stuff in?"
"In exchange for?" Rachel asks, bringing her face closer to Max's. Her new friend's blush deepens.
"Uh."
"Just kidding," Rachel says. "I know photographing someone as pretty as me is privilege enough."
Max snorts. "You're ridiculous. Um--"
"Nah, that's fine," Rachel says. "As long as I can tease you back?"
Max's blush can't really get any redder, but the way she glances from Rachel's eyes to her mouth to anywhere else is plenty cute too.