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"I…I want to talk about Mr Jefferson." Max says. She's sat on Victoria's bed, her arms are crossed in confident defiance but she is slowly folding into herself with each syllable, growing smaller and smaller and pretending not to. To be completely honest, she doesn't want to talk about Mr Jefferson. She needs to.
The images of Victoria, of Victoria bent over his desk, a flirty smile on her face, a hand stroking down his arm, a suggestive comment…it makes her blood boil, her mind fumble, her heart hurt. She has to talk about Mr Jefferson, because if she doesn't she is worried it will become a very large problem.
Max has enough large problems. She doesn't want her relationship to become one.
"yeah?" Victoria looks away from her laptop for a moment, looking at Max with her sharp yet doughy brown eyes, before looking back to her technology. "What about him?"
"You – well - you – you used to – urm –" Max stares down at her hands, blushing and fumbling with her fingers, pressing the pad of her thumb against her sweaty palm and rubbing until it hurt. She's cursing at herself in her head, hating that she can't get this one little sentence out, address the thing that has been bothering her, and move on. "It's just – you used to – I mean it wasn't my business that you did – but now that we're dating – it's just I've been – bothered, I supposed, bothered – by the thought -"
"Max." Victoria spins her chair to face Max, pushes it forward and takes Max's fidgety hands in her own strong ones. Max's shoulder's slump. She doesn't meet Victoria's gaze. "It's okay."
"No it's not." Max says. She feels stupid, childish, weak, pathetic. This isn't something that should bother her, but it does, and now she's finally addressing this petty problem she can't even talk about it –
"Yes, Max, it is. I understand why you would want to talk about him." Victoria intertwines their fingers, lets her strong, dry hands encapsulate Max's shaky, sweaty ones. "It was mostly for show. But – my parents, growing up in their world, I learned that if you ever really want to get somewhere in your life, you need to kiss ass for it. You have to work as hard as you can, and then push yourself further, and then, when you've put all this work in, you still need to fucking sleep with someone for it to ever get somewhere."
Max looks up. "That's not – "
"Please, Maxine, let me finish." Victoria takes a deep breath, brings Max's hand up to her mouth, and kisses it delicately. "It was why I was so shitty to you when you turned up. You did what you loved, slept through the lessons, only did what was required of you…and Mr Jefferson loved you. He loved you. It was exasperating." Victoria is the one to look away from Max, now, clearly unable to meet such soft blue eyes whilst admitting something so…dirty. But her voice is quiet and methodical, as if she had rehearsed how to tell Max this, that she had written down these words and swallowed them, kept them burning inside her until Max asked for them. Left them there for a while to rot in her regret. "Max, when I saw your work, I understood why he loved you. You saw the good in the world - the – the pure and beautiful. And that made me hate you, and turn desperate, and – and flirt with Mr Jefferson. I wanted to get ahead. It was the only way I knew how. I was ignorant enough to think that that was the only way how."
Victoria is silent now, for a moment, but Max does nothing but stare at her, because she feels like Victoria has more to say, needs a moment to work up the courage to speak again.
And when Victoria meets her eyes, she feels a punch in her gut. Her girlfriend looks so remorseful. Max doesn't ever want to see her look this way again. She gives her hand a squeeze, and hopes that that is enough.
Victoria gives a small smile - so small, but it is a grateful one.
"I wanted to make my parents proud but – to be honest, they haven't really – uh – talked to me, since the school year started."
Max stays still for a moment. Sees her brown eyes swimming in unshed tears.
Digests.
Waits.
Stares.
Pulls Victoria into her, and onto her lap. Brings her lips to Vic's forehead and kisses it - one time, two times, three times - and then strokes a hand through her short, soft blonde hair. "Then they are missing out." She says, and smiles. "Because, man, have they got a hell of a daughter."
Victoria chokes a laugh.
"Maybe I should send them an email: 'Dear Mr and Mrs Chase, I am proud to inform you that I am dating your daughter. Although we have had our differences, we have both put aside our desires to fuck our selfies and to, instead, fuck each other. Sincerely, Max Caulfield."
Victoria wears a smile. It's one Max hasn't seen before, and that makes her superbly happy. It's a slanted one, more like a smirk, and her eyes are sparkling with this look that says Max is probably the most amusing person alive, though she can't take that credit. An amused smile. A happy smile. A contented smile.
Max decides that this might be her favourite smile.
"Although we haven't actually had sex yet." Victoria says, and kisses her gently on the mouth.
Max grins like a fool. "Nah," she says, "but let's freak them out anyway. They'll be all like: 'Ahh! Our daughter's a lesbian! Hide the plaid! Hide the plaid!'" she laughs.
Victoria doesn't look nearly as amused.
"Plaid? No thank you."
But then she pulls Max into her and kisses her, hard and true and long, and when she finally pulls away both are breathless and dizzy and eager for more.
Victoria is looking at Max so gently. A hand is on Max's cheek, brushing aside her hair, Victoria's lips are curved into a faraway smile. "I love you, Maxine Caulfield." She whispers, gently, so gently she may not have even spoken.
"I love you, too." Max replies, and kisses her again.
When she pulls away, Victoria is still wearing that smile.
Max decides that nothing can compete to that smile.
"I don't believe that now, you know." Victoria says. Her voice is still a small whisper, low and husky. Max loves Victoria's voice.
"Believe what?"
Max leans her forehead against Victoria's and closes her eyes. "Believe that sleeping around is the only way to get ahead. To reach your goals." Victoria slides her hands down to Max's arms, and rubs them gently. "Max, being with you has taught me so much. And the main thing you have taught me, is that being yourself is really the best way to get what you want. I mean, look at me. I'm dating you, as myself, aren't I?"
"I don't know, Tori." Max says, pulling back and staring hard at her girlfriend. "Are you yourself? Are you pretending?" she gasps. "Are you secretly Taylor?"
Victoria hits her arm gently, playfully. "Hey, you. I pull off this sweater so much better than Taylor could."
Max laughs. "That's true."
They share a delicate kiss that lasts only seconds, but Max feels it so deeply she's insistent that it had to be longer.
"And you're a much better kisser." Max says, bopping Victoria's nose and smirking.
"That's right." she says, smugly. Max watches as her face suddenly goes from content to horrified. "Wait, what?"
Max bursts into giggles.