Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The rest of the beginning of October passes in a whirlwind. If Max ever thought hanging out with Chloe was an adventure, then hanging out with Chloe and Rachel is a full-blown pilgrimage. They’ve both been determined to adopt Max into their private club, and she does feel honored and special for it, but it’s also… a lot. She still attends classes and manages to fend off each temptation to skip, mostly coming from Chloe. Besides that, she tries to find time for Kate and Warren, too. Sometimes that means turning down Rachel, which is hard, and sometimes it means turning down Chloe, which is many times harder.

It’s not like their pact hasn’t held up, but if Chloe’s in a bad mood she’ll conveniently forget. Luckily, her moods have been on an upswing lately. Max can only wonder at why, though Chloe telling her that her dealer has begrudgingly started letting her buy off him again is a reasonable contender.

“Y’know how Rachel was thinking he’d be all angry about breaking up?” Chloe had said, her mouth full of microwave popcorn. She was sitting on the lowered tailgate of her truck, watching Max take photos in the junkyard as if watching a movie. “Reality’s weirder. I’ve never seen him so fucking pathetically sad. Boo-hoo, asshole.”

So, there’s that.

However, it might have more to do with something else entirely. Max finds herself more often than not in the role of the observer when she’s with Chloe and Rachel, being the quiet wallflower that she is. It’s a good role to have for taking photos of her friends enjoying themselves, of course, and it also means noticing things. Things like lingering looks, an uptick in gestures of physical affection, and playful banter that leaps right over the line into flirting before dancing back. They clearly know each other well, and have known each other that way before… it seems it’s only a matter of time before Max will be third-wheeling around Arcadia Bay. For real, that is, not just in Victoria’s imagination.

Max still thinks about the kiss. How could she not? But it remains firmly in service of proving a point, sealing a promise, and nothing more. Maybe she should have talked to Chloe about what it meant - why that was what she wanted, of all the things Max could have done - but the longer Max dawdles on the idea of bringing it up, the more it seems like her friend wants to bask in a different glow. The last thing she wants to do is ruin something that makes Chloe happy.

“Max… Max!”

“Huh?” Max startles from her thoughts, staring across campus from her spot at one of the picnic tables. She looks at Warren standing at the end of the table, who regards her with a smile.

“There you are. I guess tutoring isn’t gonna get anywhere today?” he says, and she looks at her notebook with a groan. Numbers, letters, and equations.

“Sorry. I don’t think I can focus on algebra right now.”

“Yeah, maybe it was a long shot. Homecoming week’s always a big distraction.” Warren nods to the football field across the street, where the distant figures of Bigfoots can be spotted hard at work practicing for the big game. They have some kind of pump-up music playing - from here they can’t hear anything but the booming bass of it. It probably would have been distracting if Max noticed it to begin with.

She makes a face. “I actually didn’t realize it was homecoming… I just have some stuff on my mind.”

Warren takes a seat on the other side of the table, closing his algebra textbook. “Feel like talking it out? I’m a pretty good listener.”

“Oh, um, it’s not that big a deal,” Max says dismissively. “I’m probably thinking too much. Hey, I never asked - how was the drive-in with Brooke?”

She hopes and even prays that he doesn’t call her out for changing the subject. It’s just that she really doesn’t know where to start, or whether it’s something she wants anyone to know about yet, even her friend. According to the skeptical look he gives her, he at least considers not letting her get away with it… before he shrugs.

“We went Ape over it. It was great! And the car held up for the trip.” Warren grins, pride coming over him. “I decided to name her Nova, in honor of her first big outing.”

“Of course you did,” Max says, amused. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

“I still think you would’ve liked it. Brooke and I talked nonstop all the way back about our favorite trivia.”

“I like the series! But… like I told you, I couldn’t get distracted from schoolwork…” Max says. Indeed, he’d invited her first, weeks ago. Part of her wanted to go, but she had just had a talk with her parents about her grades and her nerves about getting kicked off her scholarship were running high. And then she ended up in detention, and now she’s here.

Warren gives the textbook a pointed look, which is then directed at Max. “How’s that working out?”

“Rude,” Max says, feigning offense as she snatches the book away to put it in her bag. But then she sighs, admitting defeat under his watchful eye. “I guess I got distracted anyway. Reuniting with Chloe turned all my plans upside down.”

“No shit. It feels like you’re always moving now,” Warren says thoughtfully. “You’ve got momentum.”

“You’re not tricking me into a physics lesson, Professor.”

He puts his hands up in defense. “I’m just saying! For what it’s worth, I’m happy for you. Seems like you two are tight, like… like Mulder and Scully.”

Max smiles, leaning forward. “Which one am I?”

“Well, that depends. Are you the believer or the skeptic?”

“Well… that depends,” Max echoes.

The blaring honk of a horn makes them both jump, and Max hears Stella swear when she drops a stack of papers on her way towards the dorms. The sound zooms away as soon as it starts, a familiar truck careening dangerously fast towards the parking lot on the other side of campus. Sure enough, turning into the lot comes with a distant screech of tires. It’s enough to overwhelm the music from the football field, if only briefly.

“Speak of the blue devil,” Warren says, laughing as he looks over his shoulder at the scene. “You think she’s on a mission?”

Max already has her phone out, checking it for messages she might have missed while failing to jam equations into her head.

Chloe: yo max you’ll never believe the news

Chloe: you know what don’t even ask i’m bringing the surprise to you

Chloe: and don’t nerd too close to the sun w ur new fav science master

Chloe: youll need that nerd power

Chloe: my surprise is being slow as fucking balls ughh

“She’s definitely planning something,” Max says, quietly entertained by how obvious it is that Chloe had been waiting bored in her truck somewhere for something. Or someone? “I couldn’t tell you what, but I don’t think you have to wait long to find out.”

“Damn, and here I was hoping you knew what it was.” Looking up from her phone, Max is greeted with Rachel’s warm smile as she slides into the seat next to her. Rachel gives Warren a small wave of her fingers. “I’m not interrupting, am I?”

Warren shakes his head, gathering up his backpack. “We’re cool. I have to catch Ms. Grant to ask her about last week’s chemistry experiment anyway.”

Max has a strong suspicion that he’s just trying to get out of the way of the incoming tide of… whatever Chloe’s doing. That, and he still seems a little star-struck by Rachel. Before he can get too far away, Max waves and says, “I’ll text you.”

“I’ll hold you to that!” Warren calls back before entering the school building.

Rachel hums and peers at Max’s notebook, which might as well be more doodles than homework. “Productive afternoon?”

“Yeah, right,” Max mumbles. She moves to close her notebook, but Rachel plucks it from her hands instead. “It’s just algebra.”

“A photographer’s most valuable skill, I’m sure… your drawings are far more interesting.”

Max gives up on getting her notebook back for the time being; Rachel will give it back in time, once her impulsive curiosity is satisfied. Instead she turns her gaze towards the pool building, wondering when Chloe will show up around the corner. At least the loud music has faded out.

“So… Warren Graham? Has anything changed there?”

“Nope,” Max says, a little more abrupt than she means to be. “Still just a friend.”

Rachel laughs, leaning so that her cheek rests on Max’s shoulder. “Wow, alright. Heartbreaker Chloe is out, Heartbreaker Max is in.”

“Definitely not.”

“Nah… I wasn’t really getting the vibe. Not from you, anyway.” Rachel flips through some more pages, fingers brushing over a sketch of the lighthouse. “Have you considered telling him you’re not feeling it?”

Max stares ever more resolutely in the direction of the parking lot. “I’m… trying to let him down gently. I don’t want to hurt his feelings; he’s still a good friend.”

“I don’t doubt your good intentions. But maybe…”

Finally, Chloe appears looking as if she’s just been shoved backwards past the corner of the building, cackling loud enough for the sound to carry. If Rachel had more to say, it’s lost in her delight at seeing Chloe, a feeling that Max mirrors. A few steps behind is someone Max doesn’t recognize, but judging by Rachel’s reaction - getting back to her feet to wave enthusiastically, her other hand on Max’s shoulder - that particular sentiment isn’t shared.

“Holy shit,” Rachel says. “I cannot believe she didn’t tell me she was coming back.”

The girl trailing behind Chloe comes into sharper focus as they get closer. Straight hair under a grey beanie, a flannel, a graphic tee displaying a skull, a twenty-sided die, and the words ROLL TO HIT. She looks annoyed at Chloe in a good-natured way, shaking her head before she notices Rachel and waves back. Her eyes linger on Max with a laid-back sort of interest, a clear evaluation of some sort. Max hopes she passes the test… though she’s not really sure why she cares that much.

Chloe reaches the picnic table first and drums on it, grinning. “That’s right, I bring you Blackwell’s former head nerd in charge and third coolest bitch, the one, the only, Miss Stephanie Gingrich!”

The girl makes an immediate face of distaste that Max knows well - she has made it herself. “Ugh, if you call me that again, you’re dead.” She turns to Max with an easy smile. “It’s just Steph. You’re Max?”

Max nods, glancing at Chloe to find an eager yet nervous energy in her hovering. “The… um, one and only.”

“Nice,” Steph says approvingly, and maybe Max has passed the secret test after all? “Good to meet you.”

It looks as though she might say more, but she’s caught up in a hug by Rachel, who says, “What brings you here? I thought you were out for good!”

Steph chuckles, accepting the hug warmly. “My mom guilted me into coming back for homecoming after I didn’t visit at all last year. All the work I have to do I can do digitally, so… not much of an excuse not to.”

Chloe hops up onto the table and leans towards Max on her elbow, stage-whispering, “Steph got into some fucking gamer university up in Seattle.”

“DigiPen,” Steph offers more helpfully, pulling back from Rachel. “I heard you were living in the area; guess we didn’t cross paths.”

“That’s big cities for you,” Max says with a sheepish shrug. “But I know the school, and a few people who were going there. Is it as cool as it sounds?”

“Yes and no. The people are very cool, but I’m more of a face-to-face girl and the place is all about its computers. I can’t complain too much about the chance to have a degree in game design, though.”

“Okay, okay, you’re the coolest nerd on the planet, whatever. Asses in seats, now,” Chloe says impatiently, gesturing for the others to sit. Once they do - both opposite Max - Chloe continues, “I waited ‘til Rach was here to ask, but does this mean…”

“…we can continue our adventure?” Rachel finishes, catching on lightning-quick. Max looks on with raised brows, amazed that Rachel’s interested in what’s beginning to sound like a tabletop game if that die on Steph’s shirt is any indication. Getting to know her doesn’t mean she has any fewer surprises, apparently.

“You want to? I could make it happen.” Steph asks. Eager hope sparkles in her eyes, as much as she tries to play it cool. She looks past Chloe to Max, resting her chin in her hand. “You in, new girl Max?”

“Oh! I… don’t know? I haven’t played since I was a kid…”

“More like we tried to play but ignored all the rules,” Chloe adds, rolling her eyes. She jabs her thumb in Steph’s direction. “I didn’t know shit when this one dragged me in, but I still killed it.”

Steph scoffs. “I didn’t hold you at gunpoint, you ass. You could’ve said no.”

“Yeah, but then that Dur-whatever fucker would still be at large. I call that a public service.”

Rachel laughs, chiming in to say, “I think the point is, you’re welcome to join us, Max. You don’t have to play, you could just watch Chloe get really, really into it.”

Max smiles, figuring she doesn’t need to express just how little that shocks her. It doesn’t matter that she’ll tease day in and out about ‘nerd shit’ - when it comes to games of pretend, Chloe reigns supreme. Even before everything happened, she reveled in every chance to infuse mundane life with fantasy and adventure. And Max was never far behind, until she was.

“How about it?” Chloe says, lowering herself onto her stomach in order to peer up at Max from table-level. “Wanna see me be a motherfucking hero? Or… wanna be heroes together?”

It’s not like she needed the extra convincing, but Max hears the unspoken again in Chloe’s words and it makes her chest ache. “Of course I want to. Play, I mean.”

Chloe rolls onto her back and punches triumphantly into the air. “Count us in as a triad, almighty Game Master!”

“Alright, sweet!” Steph points between Chloe and Rachel with a grin and asks, “Same characters for you crazy kids?”

“Mine’s not dead again, is she?” Chloe says, glancing to Steph. “I don’t remember.”

“She’s not, no thanks to you,” Rachel says with a raised brow. “If I recall, I had to drag you out of a fire.”

“Right. I still think it’s stupid fire hurts me.”

“Having a step-dad from Hell doesn’t make you magically immune to burning your face off,” Steph interjects. Chloe sighs dramatically. “So am I taking that as a yes?” Rachel nods and Chloe sticks a thumbs-up into the air. Steph then gets up and makes a shooing motion. “Cool, now let me talk shop with Max. No eavesdropping.”

“Come on, Max wouldn’t keep secrets from me,” Chloe says even as she begrudgingly sits up and adjusts her jacket. She leans on her hand and meets Max’s gaze, adding, “Right?”

Max makes a show of being extra thoughtful, drawing narrowed eyes. Rachel laughs at the exchange and reaches over to tug at Chloe’s shirt. “Let her surprise us. I need a partner to monologue at for practicing my speech assignment.”

Chloe slides off the picnic table and lets Rachel lead her to the other one closer to the street. Along the way, she whispers something into Rachel’s ear and pokes her in the side, earning herself a shove in the shoulder that she takes with a devious look. Max watches her take a seat on the end of the table with her legs dangling and gesture for Rachel, still standing, to speak.

“They’re still going strong, huh?” Steph says. Max finds her standing on this side of the table now, arms crossed as she also watches the others. Steph shakes her head with a sort of exasperated fondness and sits down next to Max. Glancing at her, she grins. “Didn’t expect ‘em to pick up a third, though.”

Max quickly hurries to dispel the notion. “They’re not… I’m not…”

“Hey, it’s fine dude, I’m just teasing. I know.” Steph indicates the notebook that Rachel left behind, which clearly has Max’s name printed on it. “Open up a fresh page, let’s get some ideas down. No pressure about rules and shit yet.”

Max takes her notebook back and flips through to find a page without any homework or doodles on it. “How did you end up doing this with them?”

“You mean how did I get Rachel Amber to play tabletop?” Steph asks. “’Cause I didn’t. I wish, but that was all Chloe Price. Rachel liked her enough to try it, and then she had enough of a good time to keep going. I’ll take credit for that part, actually,” she adds after a moment of consideration.

“You should,” Max says. “I don’t think even Chloe could make her keep doing something she didn’t like.”

“Might be up for debate, but I’ll take it. God knows the ego boost is nice.” Steph angles the notebook so she can reach over to the blank page with a pen, listing out a few categories that Max vaguely recognizes from seeing character sheets years ago. Name, lineage, class, and backstory. “So, it’s your classic spells-and-swords high fantasy stuff. What sounds fun to you? Beating up monsters real good, slinging magic around…”

“Uh…” Max’s brows furrow as she thinks. Her eyes flit from the almost-blank page back up to Chloe and Rachel across the way. She can tell Steph’s following her gaze. “What do they, um, have the most trouble with? Or, I guess, their characters.”

“Right, so, I don’t usually like to funnel players into a niche just because of party comp or whatever. I think everyone should get to play what they wanna play. I’ll make it work, promise.”

“I don’t doubt you, but…”

Steph studies her for a moment, leaning with her elbow on the table. Soon enough, a smirk pulls up the corner of her mouth and she lowers her voice. “Cute. Okay. Which one are you crushing on?”

It’s probably not very convincing, the way she immediately looks down at the page instead of at Steph, but Max still says, “What does that have to do with anything? Neither.”

“If you want me to drop it, I’ll drop it,” Steph says, hands raised placatingly, “but Max, since moving to Seattle I spend pretty much all my time around the nerdiest queer weirdos you can imagine. They’re my people, if you didn’t figure that out already, but… the whole, you know, wanting to play a character that’s conveniently the perfect thing to help someone? When you don’t just wanna be a hero but you wanna be some specific person’s hero? I’ve seen it. I’ve GMed it. Big gay crushes all the way down.”

“It’s… not that…” Max says. “I just like the idea of helping.”

“I could believe that, but hear me out a sec.” Steph lifts up the notebook so it blocks Chloe and Rachel’s view of her pointing over to them. “If it helps you feel less weird about it, assuming I’m not experiencing a rainbow mirage, Chloe did the same thing when Rachel joined us. Her first character she played with me and my buddy Mikey was dead twice over and I wasn’t bringing her back, so Chloe asked if there was a way she could beat up monsters and keep Rachel’s character safe. I obviously had to give her shit, it was my right as the friend who had to give up all hope of getting the girl.”

Max leans in, wondering if she’s understanding right. “Wait, you—”

“Had a big stupid crush on Rachel?” Steph laughs, only slightly on the edge of bitter. “Guilty.”

“Past tense?”

“About eighty percent past tense.” With a rueful smile, Steph adds, “Maybe ninety before the hug. Give me another year in Seattle, maybe a girlfriend, I’ll get over it. Point is, I don’t bring it up to make fun of you or anything. Crushing on a friend is like, a rite of passage, and you’re in good company.”

Max considers her options, her hand finding her bag nearby to pick idly at the material. Steph probably means it when she says she’ll drop it; she doesn’t really seem like the type to harp on about something. But the idea of being more candid with someone Max doesn’t know that well is strangely compelling. Steph won’t be sticking around forever, so Max won’t have to face her every day in the foreseeable future if this does end up being super embarrassing. And… well, it sounds like Steph would be understanding? She did just trust Max with her own confession, after all.

“Okay. Well…” Max lets out a sigh, looking at the thread she’s pulling from her bag instead of anywhere else. “Yeah, I think I’m having one of those ‘big stupid crushes.’”

“Yeah.” To Max’s relief, Steph’s smile is a sympathetic one. “Tricky, right? Even when they’re ‘not together,’” she says with air quotes and a roll of her eyes, “they sure fucking act like it.”

“Tell me about it,” Max mumbles. “I think they might be… on again, though. Or… almost? It’s not like I’m asking them about this kind of thing, so I guess I don’t know…”

Steph puts a hand on Max’s shoulder with a reassuring squeeze. “From what Chloe was telling me, yeah, they might be on the way there. But don’t quote me on that. She’s been dead wrong before. You know why it doesn’t matter, though?” Max, brows furrowed, shakes her head. “They still wanna hang with you either way. Like, alright, maybe it sucks a little to get stuck in the feelings of it, but it’s pretty fucking sweet to have them as friends.”

“It is,” Max agrees with a smile. It’s hard to tell if Steph actually believes that herself, but it doesn’t make it sound any less correct. “I don’t know what I’d do in Arcadia Bay without Chloe. And I’m still getting to know Rachel, but she’s been… pretty much nothing but nice to me. It’s already hard to imagine not being friends with her.”

“Oh yeah, I’m gonna need you to give me all the good blackmail shit about what Chloe was like as a kid,” Steph says, leaning in to whisper. “I could do something truly conniving with info like that.”

Max glances across the grounds to Chloe, and the urge to be a little bit of a menace takes over. It’s only fair - Chloe’s an almost 24/7 menace. “Well… has she ever told you about our boy band phase?”

“No… tell me more.”

“We collected actual trading cards. And made up dumb stories about how they’d totally fall in love with us at first sight at a concert or something.”

“Amazing,” Steph says in a hushed voice. “Any chance you still have those cards?”

“Chloe was the keeper of the cards,” Max says with a sigh. “She might’ve thrown them away after I moved, I don’t know. But I do know a lot of them were vandalized, by her, which really upset me at the time… but it’s kinda funny now, looking back.”

“What hasn’t she vandalized?” Steph asks, rolling her eyes.

“Sure, but she specifically gave them, uh, more in the chest area—” Max huffs; what is she, still twelve? No. “Boobs. She gave them boobs.”

Steph snorts, covers her mouth with her hand as she snickers, though her eyes give away her amusement. “Damn. She had her awakening earlier than I thought.”

Max shakes her head, grinning. “I don’t think she connected those dots. At least, not back then.”

“Hey, dorks!” Chloe calls out, which draws the attention of both Max and Steph. Rachel’s busy taking notes, but Chloe’s looking over with narrowed eyes. “The hell are you giggling about over there?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Steph shoots back. It earns her double birds, but Chloe doesn’t have time to consider investigating further before Rachel gets her attention back with a clear of her throat, ready to try her speech again. Max swears she catches a wink from Rachel while Chloe lets out an exaggerated sigh and decides not to linger on it.

“We should probably do this,” Max says, tapping her pencil on the notebook, all the fields still left blank. “Before she gets impatient. Um, so forget what I asked earlier—”

“Dude, for your honesty and that ammo? I’ll show you how to build the most broken-ass support character imaginable,” Steph says. “I can still make a good challenge out of it, so as the GM I say you get to have as much power as you want to impress them. Rachel likes the flashy stuff anyway so it works out.”

Max nods, but something rings slightly out of tune. “Rachel?”

“Yeah. I can’t promise it’ll make anything happen, given the obvious, but it still feels good to be kickass in front of your crush, right?”

“Oh, I—” Max bites the inside of her lip. She should probably correct Steph. And yet… “R-Right. Of course.”

“Cool, so let’s go through classes first and see what sticks…” As Steph delves further and more eagerly into her explanations, Max finds that the moment to take her words back has vanished entirely. She reassures herself that she can just tell Steph later, when they’re not character-building… or not bother at all, because Steph isn’t a student here anymore. Does it really make a difference? It’s not like she’s asking for a wingman. It’s probably fine.

To Max’s relief, working on this preliminary character sheet with Steph is far from tedious, and that serves as a good distraction. Between the two of them, they come up with a concept that Max feels excited about playing in spite of her nerves, and that Steph swears up and down will be able to keep her more reckless party members intact. As long as the dice cooperate, of course. Max isn’t all that confident in her luck but she has gotten this far - might as well see what happens.

“So, wait, what do they play?” Max asks as she shuts her notebook, as finished as she can be for now. She’ll still need to do stats and some of the other, crunchier stuff, but Steph wants her guidebook on hand for that anyway.

“In the interest of fairness, I’ll let that be a surprise,” Steph says after a moment of thought. “Unless they decide to tell you themselves. That’s up to them.” She looks up to the other table as she gestures their way, and pauses with a short laugh. “Should’ve fucking known.”

Max has a pretty good guess, but she glances over anyway. And sure enough, the others haven’t quieted down in the past few minutes because they decided to speak softly all of a sudden. Chloe’s still sat on the edge of the table, but now Rachel stands between her legs, hands at Chloe’s cheek and shoulder as she kisses her, broken by the occasional smile or whisper between them. Chloe, meanwhile, has her arms around Rachel’s waist to keep her close.

“Can’t leave them alone for five minutes,” Steph sighs, turning sideways on the bench to face Max, who follows suit a second later with a look she hopes reads as amused. Because she is. The part of her that’s a little pained is relatively small, even if it is insistent. Again - Chloe’s happiness comes first, always. “You don’t happen to drive, do you?”

“No,” Max says with a shake of her head. “Legally I could, but no car.”

“Damn. So we’re not running off to dig my GM’s guide out of my old room. Hey, maybe you can give me a tour of campus. I haven’t been here since they started that weird senior program you’re in.”

“I don’t know how much the campus has changed…” Max trails off at Steph’s raised brow, and realizes she’s not so much in it for the tour as she is to sneak away and… well, Max isn’t sure exactly what else, but she knows the look of a scheme coming together when she sees it. Before making a decision, she takes another look across the way just in time to spot Rachel glancing her way.

Rachel smiles warmly and says something quiet to Chloe, who then also looks over. So much for sneaking. Max waves, a little sheepish in her smile.

“Holy shit, you’re finally done?” Chloe, hopping down from the table and striding back towards them, stops with her hands on their table as she leans conspicuously to look at Max’s notebook. Her cheeks are a little pink, but she appears otherwise unbothered by getting interrupted. Finding the book closed, the secrets hidden, she sulks and drops to lean on her elbows instead. “I never want to hear that much about a dead guy who willingly named himself after a state in this country again.”

“I get the subtle sense you didn’t absorb the point of the speech,” Rachel says, close behind. She crosses her arms and rolls her eyes, telling the others, “It was about how reality interplays with illusion in plays like The Glass Menagerie.”

“Yeah. Plays written by a dead guy called Tennessee.”

“What a shining beacon of Blackwell theatre,” Steph deadpans. “Anyway, Max is pretty much set to go. When do you want to do this? Not now,” she says, cutting Chloe off. “I don’t have any of my shit, dude.”

“Losing your touch, Gingrich,” Chloe teases, her brief moodiness lifting. “Back in the day you always had nerd dice on you.”

Steph leans towards her with the air of someone about to pester a tiger at the zoo. “Some nerds grow up.”

Chloe only gets a second to bristle before Rachel puts a hand on her shoulder and says, “How about this weekend? Saturday?”

“I don’t know,” Steph says, uncertain. “That’s when I was planning to catch a bus back north. You guys busy Friday night?”

Max starts to shake her head, but finds herself surprised to see Rachel nodding. Then she feels silly for being surprised; of course Rachel has plans. “Dana’s putting on a little Halloween party for us senior program reps. It’s not a Vortex Club thing,” Rachel adds at Steph’s skeptical look. “Girls only, legal adults only, so it’s a tiny guest list. I doubt we’ll go too wild.”

“Girls only?” Steph asks, and Chloe laughs.

“Ooh, wait for it,” she says to Rachel, lightly elbowing her. “You’re ‘boutta get a plus-one.”

“No,” Steph scoffs, crossing her arms. She scans between the two of them, then lands her gaze on Max. With a smirk, she puts her arm around Max’s shoulders. “My new favorite Arcadia Bay lady is. If she’ll have me.”

“No fucking chance,” Chloe says immediately and confidently, sitting up. “Max is too cool for those parties.”

Max’s brows lift and lips part, indignant in spite of herself at Chloe being so very sure of what she wants. And although the idea of going to a party leaves an anxious pit in her stomach, the idea of proving Chloe wrong has suddenly become irresistible. It might as well have been a dare.

“Actually…” Max says, and she casts Steph a nervous look that gets a softer, reassuring smile in response. Steph isn’t trying to drag her into this against her will - and Max appreciates that, but her decision has been made by Chloe’s attitude. And the fact that she actually likes Dana. “If Dana’s the one in charge, I’m in. I should at least try to have a social life before I start knocking the whole partying thing.”

Chloe gives her a searching look, like she wants to call a bluff. Max meets her eyes with the kind of certainty she wishes she actually had and waits, having no bluff to hide. She means it, even if she does feel like she might have lost her mind a little bit. Eventually, Chloe sighs. “Well, fuck me. Guess I’m tagging along with you, Rach.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Rachel says, breaking her silence after watching the exchange with inscrutable interest. Whatever has been on her mind, she looks nothing short of thrilled at the prospect. “And with all three of you? I dare say it will be unforgettable.”

Steph withdraws her arm from Max and nudges her shoulder. “It’s a date,” she says, tongue-in-cheek flirtatious, as Chloe rolls her eyes. “I’ll take a later bus so we can roll some dice on Saturday. Assuming these two haven’t turned into hangover zombies.”

“No, fuck that, you’re up to something. I’m keeping my head on straight—”

“Ha, okay, when pigs fly.”

“—so you won’t catch me slipping,” Chloe finishes with a hard stare at Steph, who shrugs.

“Have fun with that,” she says coolly before taking her phone out and holding it up to Max. “Wanna trade numbers? In case you come up with some rad new ideas for that character. Or… whatever else you want to talk about.”

Steph masks it under a low, suggestive tone, but Max is at least eighty percent sure of what she really means. And if she’s wrong… well, that’s for future Max to worry about. She nods and hands her phone over, taking Steph’s to add her number as Chloe turns around to have some kind of nonverbal conversation with Rachel. All Max can see out of the corner of her eye is Rachel giving a look both amused and sympathetic, her head tilting thoughtfully.

When phones are returned to their rightful owners, it’s Rachel who teases, “And the mysterious Max Caulfield reels in another one.”

Max smiles, shakes her head. She’s saved from coming up with a response by Chloe, who slouches until her head rests back on the table and says, “Yeah, yeah, everybody loves Max. Glad my friends are hitting it off. Already keeping secrets and shit.”

“If you really want me to tell you about my character…” Max says, trailing off as Chloe looks at her, upside-down.

“Nah, it’s no big deal. Serious.”

Biting her lip, Max wonders whether to prod her further. She can’t tell exactly what has Chloe in a weird mood, only that she’s in one. There are a few guesses she could pose… but probably not out in the open like this.

“Well, trust me, you’re gonna love what we’ve got shaping up,” Steph says. “You might actually avoid a near-death experience for once, thanks to Max.”

“Thank god for that,” Rachel says, laughing. When Chloe gives her a look that all but amounts to a pout, she grins and gently pats Chloe’s cheek. “You are impressively good at getting in trouble. It’s about time I had help getting you out of it.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Chloe mumbles without heat. “You’re starting shit at least as much as I am. Maybe I’m the one that needs help saving your ass.”

“It’s the GM’s professional opinion that you’re both playing reckless hardheads,” Steph says after giving Max a long-suffering look. “And maybe Max can’t help you but she can damn well try. We’ll find out this weekend.” A familiar chiptune chime plays softly and she checks her phone, brightening when she sees the notification. “In the meantime, I’ve got a meeting with a famous wizard.”

“Was that the secret sound?” Max asks as Steph gets up. “Like in… was it Ocarina of Time?”

Steph beams. “Hell yeah, it is.”

“Wow,” Chloe says, playing up an unimpressed air. She pulls herself up onto the table to sit cross-legged, eyeing Steph with her chin in her hand. “How mainstream of you.”

“Some things are classic for a reason,” Max says, drawing a sidelong glance from Chloe.

“I’ve created a nerd-monster.” She sighs and waves Steph off. “Go reunite with Mikey before he starts exploding my phone.”

Steph laughs and begins to make her way towards the dormitories. “I’m going, I’m going. Catch you guys later.”

“Nice meeting you!” Max says, to which Steph gives an assured grin and a wave.

After four becomes three, Rachel hums, contemplative. “She’s really upped her game since moving to the city. Looks good on her.”

“How the hell do you ‘up your game’ from kissing half the girls in school?” Chloe asks, turning to look over her shoulder at Rachel. When Max looks back at the table, Chloe’s hand is suspiciously close to her algebra notebook; while she’s distracted, Max takes it back and puts it in her bag. If she wants a look, she’ll have to ask for it.

“Probably by having actual competition,” Rachel says wryly.

“And I’m not— whatever,” Chloe groans, turning back to find Max with her arms folded on top of her bag and watching them. She prods Max’s shoulder. “Guess I should say I told you so.”

“I don’t… really think you need to,” Max says, all too aware of the conversation Chloe’s talking about. How could she not be? She has lost count of the times she has played that night over again in her head. “I’m pretty sure it’s just messing around.”

“Sure. So should I save up to get you a ticket to visit your new girlfriend in Seattle now, or should I wait until it’s closer to Christmas?”

Max scoffs and shoves at Chloe’s knee to little effect. “Bullshit. You’re right that she’s cool, but I don’t know about all… that. We just met.”

“Yeah, and you already have a date,” Chloe says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and Max is a fool for not seeing it. “Rachel, back me up.”

Rachel’s brows lift when she’s addressed. “I think… you could be right.” She gently smacks Chloe’s shoulder with her notepad. “But you’re getting ahead of yourself. Let’s wait and see what Friday night brings, hm? We all know Max is a catch, but—”

“Sorry - we do?” Max asks, startled.

“Well, maybe only most of us,” Rachel says with a smile. “I’m just saying, it takes two. If Max doesn’t have the confidence to make moves, your little theory ends up dead in the water. And if she can’t even tell someone she’s not into him…”

Max averts her eyes when Rachel gives her a pointed look. Something about getting called out by Rachel feels like having a spotlight trained on her, even though the only other person here is the one who has already seen nearly all of her most embarrassing moments. “I’ll get to it, okay?”

“This about Warren? Yeah, dude’s hella into you,” Chloe says, rather unhelpfully. “Maybe Rachel has a point. I was starting to wonder if he’s been bothering you, but if you haven’t even said anything… Max.”

Max hides her face in her arms. “I know,” she says, muffled. She feels her hair getting messed with in a very familiar way and lifts her head to fix it, eyes catching on Chloe’s smile - this one’s earnest, maybe even a little fragile.

“I’m not worried. You’ve got balls enough to get whatever you want, Caulfield.” She takes a deep breath and shifts around on the table so she’s facing Rachel but beside Max. “Okay, all eyes on you, Rach. I know you want to try that damn speech again.”

“I do,” Rachel says, setting her notepad down in front of the two of them. “I want to get off-book. It’s not required, but—”

“But you’re an overachiever. We know,” Chloe says, rolling her eyes.

Max sits up to pay better attention, glancing briefly at Chloe before giving Rachel an encouraging smile. She takes the notepad and flips it open to what looks like the speech. “I’ll help keep you on track. Is that how this works?”

“Just tell me if I get wildly off-topic,” Rachel says, stretching her arms up in preparation for her trademark dramatic gestures. “It’s not a big deal to improvise, but there is a time limit.”

Chloe holds up her phone. “Got the timer right here.”

“Damn. If I ace this, I owe you both dinner,” Rachel says, pleased. “Alright. Hit that timer in three… two… one.”

Max realizes quickly that Rachel has the whole thing almost entirely in the bag, so although she is paying attention - it’s an engaging speech, after all - she lets her mind wander during some of the more academic exposition that goes over her head. Whatever she wants… if only Chloe knew, but that train has left the station for all Max can tell. Chloe’s watching Rachel with comfortable admiration, plainly more into the Rachel Amber of it all than the contents of the speech. They’ve probably done this sort of thing a hundred times.

Halfway through the speech, Chloe puts her hand down next to Max’s and links their pinky fingers together. The gesture leads them to exchange glances, just for a moment. The relaxed, content expression on Chloe’s face puts Max’s mind at ease, at least for now. At the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter what it looks like - spending time together like this is what Max hopes to keep doing as long as humanly possible. And they’re going to do just that at least twice this weekend, for a game… and for a party.

A party. What the hell is she getting herself into?

Chapter Text

It’s a relief when Max’s last class of the week finally ends. The classroom’s sparse due to the football players and cheerleaders having left early in preparation for the homecoming game — which she is definitely not attending, so she’s in no rush. The relief lasts about as long as it takes for Max to check her phone at her desk.

Dana: Can’t wait to see you after the game!! I’m dying to find out what kind of party animal Max Caulfield is 😉

Max nearly groans aloud. It’s not like she hasn’t been thinking about it, the fact that she’s actually going to a party tonight, but she’d been hoping for a little more inner peace before she had to confront that fact directly. At least she can comfort herself with the knowledge that it’s not a Vortex Club party, even if a few of the same people will be there.

Max: Whoa, I’m not going for party-animal-crazy. Just looking to chill

Dana: lol no problem. Chilling is the goal, I get enough crazy with Vortex

Dana: but don’t forget to be festive! It’s Halloween, dress up a little 🎃🦇

Max: Yea totally forgot that part. Oops?

Dana: Well you have a few hours to figure it out. No pressure to go over the top, a little can go a long way

Max: Can I come as a photographer…

Dana: Nice try but I know you’ve got something up your sleeve

Dana: putting my phone in locker room jail - don’t overthink it girl, this is supposed to be fun! ttyl!

Max: (>_<;)

She sighs and puts her phone away, along with her textbook, and pulls her bag onto her shoulder. If she’s lucky, she can cobble something together from her closet at the dorm, but she’s not confident — Max didn’t plan for dressing like anyone but herself when she made the move from Seattle. Max keeps her head down as she walks through the halls and thinks, brows furrowed. She can’t even be bothered to enjoy how quiet the main building is, and though the thought briefly crosses her mind, she decides not to take the opportunity to snoop through the photography lab again. Nerves or no, it would suck to get caught and end up unable to do any of the things she promised to try this weekend.

There’s a chill in the air when she steps outside, but otherwise the skies are clear after a couple of region-typical rainy days. Max makes it about halfway to the dormitory gate when a paper airplane whizzes past from the left, just barely missing her nose. She stops abruptly to look for the culprit: sitting at what is quickly becoming the favorite campus table, it’s Chloe with a lazy wave of her hand, her chin firmly planted in the other palm. The rest of the table is occupied by papers, figures, and dice — as well as Steph, behind a GM screen and focused on the person across from her that Max does not know. At least not from behind.

“Too cool to say hello, Caulfield?” Chloe calls out, which finally does draw the attention of her table-mates. Steph gives Max a smile and her player looks over his shoulder curiously. And Max does recognize him after all, though only from seeing him a couple of times around campus.

Max picks up the fallen airplane, which looks like it was made from some kind of stat sheet, and walks it back over to Chloe. “Never that, just thinking. Are you playing already?”

“Supervising,” Steph says, holding her hand out for the plane. “But she’s mostly terrorizing my setup. Mikey here’s playing this time — have you met?”

“Not officially. Hi,” Max says to Mikey once she gives the paper back. She ignores the small scuffle that ensues when Chloe attempts to take another one of Steph’s materials from behind the screen and gets a smack on the hand for it. “I’m Max. I think I’ve seen you around?”

“Hey Max,” Mikey says with a small smile, though he’s distracted with an eye to the map splayed out across the center of the table. “Pretty sure Warren’s mentioned you a couple times when we’ve talked. Do you play?” he asks, gesturing to the table.

“Not in a long time,” she says, glancing to Steph, “but that’s changing soon.”

He laughs. “She worked her magic. I get it.”

“Well…”

Chloe, giving up on her mischief, watches Steph move a couple of the figures. “Group effort, man. She’s joining me ‘n Rach tomorrow. It was Steph’s other magic that she worked on Max,” she says, wiggling her fingers.

Steph rolls her eyes and tells Mikey, “The wererats are closing in. They don’t make any hostile moves, but there are three of them, and they have you up against the wall of this cave. The nose of the biggest one twitches, scenting the air. They know what you’re carrying, and they want it back.”

“Shit. And I’m not supposed to hurt them?”

“You could, you just might have a very upset village on your hands.” Chloe looks at Max with disbelief at being ignored and Max shrugs, all she can offer being a slightly apologetic look.

Mikey groans and flips a page of his character sheet. “Hang on, Elamon’s definitely got something for this…”

“You’re lucky I have guests,” Steph says, turning to Max and Chloe. “You’re both still in for later, yeah? No bailing?”

Chloe taps her fingers on the table and looks expectantly to Max, who squeezes her hand around the strap of her bag and nods. “Still in. But… I need to figure out a costume. I was gonna check my closet…”

“Oh, dude, I bet I can hook you up with something,” Steph says. She gestures between herself and Chloe. “We’re heading out so I can get mine after session, you’re free to come along and see if any of my old stuff makes a good look. If you don’t find anything, obviously.”

“I appreciate having a backup plan,” Max says, relieved. With a glance to Chloe, she adds, “Are you…”

“Just the driver. I’m engaging in costume protest.”

“Really?” Max says doubtfully, memories of enthusiastic Halloweens past and dressing up as everything from pirates to rock stars hardly faded in her mind. “If Dana’s making me dress up for this, you should too. We’re in this together.”

Chloe shakes her head. “You two are in this together, it’s your date.”

“Not a date,” Max sighs, having lost count of how many times she’s pushed back on this all week.

Mikey speaks up, says, “To be fair, Steph dating would be news to me.” He looks up to Steph giving him a mildly exasperated glare and shrugs. “Hey, your text messages tell a consistent story, that’s all. Anyway, Elamon’s gonna try to intimidate the whiskers off these guys.”

“Fine. How’s he doing it?”

“’Surely you are ratmen of a noble and intelligent kind, so you know that I am Elamon, Wizard of the Third Circle,’” Mikey says, sitting up straighter to put on his wizardly affect. Chloe mouths along to Elamon’s title, lightly teasing. “’And if you know this, then you know you stand no chance confronting me. So let us have a conversation, that you all may see tomorrow’s sunrise.’”

“Decent,” Steph says, nodding. “Let’s see how the dice feel.”

“…Are you factoring in that I outed your, uh… recent history?”

Steph snorts. “You’re in the clear, my guy. There are worse things to embarrass me with.”

“Not like it’s breaking news,” Chloe mutters as the die clatters across the table, landing on a respectable fifteen. At least, Max is pretty sure that’s respectable. “Look out, world — Steph Gingrich still doesn’t commit.”

“And Chloe Price is still committed to being a bitch. Shocker.” After checking something behind the screen, Steph returns her attention to Mikey. “The wererats stop approaching. The ones to your left and right look about nervously, while the one in the center stands up taller. ‘Then talk,’ she says. ‘Explain why you’ve stolen the moon shard.’”

Part of Max wants to sit down and watch the rest of this session, fascinated by whatever Mikey’s wizard is up to and intrigued by this rat-woman with the deep voice that Steph’s putting on, but she has a room to shake down for whatever might pass for a costume. She’d rather avoid imposing a last-minute search on the others if she can help it. So as the scene proceeds between Steph and Mikey, Max quietly begins her retreat with a small wave of farewell. It’s when she gets a few feet away and starts to turn around that Chloe looks her way and gets up from the table.

“Hey,” she says in a low voice once she catches up to Max, careful not to interrupt the others. “You sure you still wanna go to this thing? ‘Cause if you don’t…”

“It seems more like you don’t want to,” Max says. “And I don’t blame you or anything. I’m sure Rachel would do something else with you if you asked, it’s just — I actually do want to try this. One of the things I wanted when I came to Blackwell was to be a little less…” She trails off, looking for a word that Chloe won’t immediately disagree with for being too harsh, or better yet, for Chloe to fill in the blank herself. No such luck. “…uh, less of a bystander in life.”

“Not because I said you were too cool for it?” Chloe asks, crossing her arms.

Max smiles wryly. “By that logic you’re thinking that I’m trying to be less cool.”

“Well, duh, you’re Max Caulfield. You’re allergic to thinking you’re hot shit.”

“But I’m not—” Max stops when Chloe’s brow lifts along with a grin, anticipating immediate evidence for her statement. “Oh, shut up. Maybe I just want to have a good time with friends. Every other party’s a Vortex bash, so…”

“Ugh, tell me about it. That’s why I don’t wanna drag Rach away — for once it’s not like she’s getting fucked up with Nathan-and-co.”

Max wrinkles her nose. “To each their own, I guess… she totally wants you to be there tonight, though. She’s been so excited.”

“I know, and I’ll be there,” Chloe sighs, rubbing at the back of her neck as she shrugs, watching Max. “Just wanted to put the offer out in case you were on the fence… we’d have a hella good time if it was just us, too. Like always.”

“Hey, if it sucks major shit, we can always escape,” Max says, pleased that the notion seems to marginally lift Chloe’s spirits if her smile is any indication. “We can find somewhere else to commit crimes of breaking and entering.”

“Now that’s a fucking plan.” Chloe playfully puts her hands on Max’s cheeks, and for a wild, bluescreen-inducing second Max thinks she’s about to be kissed again. But the second passes and Chloe’s hands find their way into pockets instead as she drops back to return to the table. “Go suit up, dork. We’ll be around if you need props from the prop master over here.”

Max glances to Steph at the mention of her, and though she’s in conversation with Mikey, she has a watchful eye on the two of them. It’s hard to tell what she’s thinking; she gives Max a parting nod and turns a curious look on Chloe when she sits back down, and that’s that. Deciding this is no time for standing around like a lost puppy, Max moves on.

The campus grounds are busier around the Prescott Dormitory, with scattered pockets of people hanging out with their Bigfoots gear in anticipation of the game. With the Venn diagram of people who go to football games and people Max is interested in talking to hardly overlapping, she beelines for the main doors. The last two people she expects to find talking to each other are exactly who she discovers in the entrance hall on the other side, and her hopes of avoiding further distractions are quickly doused.

“Max! There you are,” Rachel says, looking up from her conversation as she leans back against the wall. “I should have known you’d be noble enough to attend the last class of a day like today.”

“I’m just trying to hang on to my scholarship,” Max says. Her attention then swivels to the other person in the room, who seems just as startled to be talking to Rachel as Max is surprised. “Did you actually skip, Warren?”

Warren shakes his head, a sheepish grin coming over him. “Nah, class got called off. I spent the hour experience grinding, so I’d say I still did something productive with my free time.”

“Can’t argue with that. I’m surprised you’re not still at it.”

“I’m considering alternate plans for the night. Like… going to the Bigfoots game?” he says with a casual shrug that does absolutely nothing to make him seem more casual about it. “It probably won’t suck to go just once with the right company, you know?”

“Ooh, that’s my cue,” Rachel says, pushing off from the wall to head upstairs. She tosses a significant look to Max over her shoulder. “There’s something I’d love to show you if you get a minute, Max. I’ll be… up.” She gestures loftily towards the floors above, smiles, and turns with her usual poise to leave.

Max lets a pair of students decked out in Bigfoots-red pass before sidling up next to Warren to ask, “Did I accidentally interrupt you or did I save you?”

Warren laughs. “It was nothing, uh, Rachel was just asking me about tutoring. Well… it’s more like we were trading stories about our worst and best pupils.”

“So, gossip?”

“Ouch. Is that the wound of judgement I feel?”

“Not even a little bit,” Max says, smiling as she rolls her eyes. “This curiosity is judgement-free for now.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Warren takes a deep breath, clearly gathering his nerve. Suddenly Rachel’s look makes more sense — and Max internally curses her for putting her in the perfect trap designed to get her to do the right thing instead of putting it off longer. “But speaking of going to the Bigfoots game, I was thinking, maybe we could go together? It’s not really either of our scenes, I know, but when in Rome…?”

Max lets out a quiet sigh, resigning herself to accepting this opportunity. Whether Rachel somehow planned this out or not, she’s almost certainly going to follow up with questions later. “And exactly, um… what kind of company are you asking for?”

Warren blinks at her, rubs at the back of his neck. “Putting me on the spot, huh?” At Max’s raised brow, he relents. “Okay, okay. Yeah, I was thinking… the date kind. Not very subtle, I guess.”

“No, but you’re not the only one who’s been beating around the bush, so we’re still judgement-free.” Unsure exactly how to proceed, Max puts a tentative hand on Warren’s arm. “You’re sweet, and I like you a lot, just… as a friend. I couldn’t have asked for a better mentor for settling into Blackwell.”

Though plainly crestfallen, Warren’s smile doesn’t drop as much as Max feared it might. “Good to know you don’t think I’m a total loser.”

“Of course not. I should’ve said something sooner, so if anyone’s the loser…”

Warren waves a hand, brushing off the very thought. “You won’t get me agreeing to that, Max. Let’s just call it even. Deal?”

Max looks down when he offers a hand to shake and she laughs, taking it. “Deal. Will you still go to the game?”

“When I have level gains to make? Screw that noise,” Warren scoffs. “I take it you’re not planning to show school spirit?” Max shakes her head. “Well, you’re always welcome — as a friend — to help out with some raids.”

“I’ve promised myself to other plans tonight, but keep that spot open for next time,” Max says. She dithers on a thought, then adds, “Maybe ask Brooke? I bet she’d like an excuse not to get involved with the party crowds.” With any luck, Brooke will appreciate the nudge.

Warren nods slowly. “Good call. If I’m gonna have company… better go clean up,” he says, pointing his thumb vaguely in the direction of the dorms and starting to step back that way. “And you better follow your mysterious calling. Even I know better than to keep Rachel Amber waiting.”

“Okay, calm down. She’s not a celebrity,” Max says. “At least not yet.”

“Closest thing Blackwell’s got, right?” Warren says with a shrug. He grins and gives his best Truman Show bow. “In case I don’t see ya, good afternoon, good evening, and good night!”

Max snorts and waves after him. “See you, Professor.”

As Warren returns to the boys’ wing, Max takes in the sight of the stairs with the question of what in the world Rachel wants coming to the forefront of her mind. It has established itself as a common thought over the past couple of weeks, but Max is never any less curious about it. She probably has time to find out… and Rachel might be able to help with costume ideas anyway.

So she heads up, and up, and past a threshold that she’s pretty sure students aren’t supposed to cross as she pushes her way through a heavy door to a back set of dimly-lit stairs. She would’ve expected that door to be locked, but it’s not like she has ever tried it before. It takes just seconds to find Rachel perched on the railing at the top of the stairs, pondering yet another door until she hears Max’s arrival and looks back.

“You made it,” she says, dropping down to to her feet. With two strides she reaches the closed door and puts a hand on it, not quite opening it yet as she instead smiles at Max. “I wondered if you’d get this far.”

“You said up, so… I went up,” Max says, adjusting the weight of her bag to sit more comfortably on her shoulder. “Not like I would’ve forced it if the door was locked, though. That’s more Chloe’s thing.”

“She doesn’t have a monopoly on getting into shit she’s not supposed to,” Rachel says with a laugh. “Case in point: this door.”

Max looks at the door, which comes with a sign reading ROOFTOP ACCESS: BLACKWELL STAFF ONLY. She makes a face of uncertainty but can’t hide the way she gets on her tiptoes to try and peer into the darkened window. “And this door is open?”

“It is. Fuck if I know why.” Rachel pushes and the door swings open with an unsettlingly loud creak. Motion-activated lights flicker on in what looks like a storage room, though the center aisle leads straight back to a steel stairway. “Blackwell security has all its attention on the game, so there’s no better time to check it out, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know…”

“Imagine the photo ops,” Rachel says in a stage whisper, eyes glimmering with adventurous interest.

Max levels a disbelieving look at her, says, “Do you think I’m that easy?” Rachel holds her gaze and waits. Max worries at the inside of her cheek then sighs, stepping into the room. “Okay, fine, but I’m calling foul. So not fair.”

“Haven’t you heard? All’s fair,” Rachel says; she follows Max inside, letting the door slowly shut behind them. “Besides, I suspect you get just as much of a kick out of this as I do.”

“I plead the fifth,” Max mutters. She has a fleeting thought to look for security cameras — but she’s already here, isn’t she? If she’s being recorded, it’s not like she can magically take it all back now. It’s nerve-wracking, but she can’t deny it’s a little exciting, too. Reaching the (presumably) final set of stairs, she asks, “Do you really think it’s open up here?”

“No idea,” Rachel says, nonchalant. “Let’s find out.”

Sure enough, when Max gets to the top of the rickety steel contraption and braces her hands at the crossbar of the sturdy door there, it provides no resistance except its own weight as she pushes her way through. It’s not even rigged up with an alarm as far as Max can tell, which is a relief. The roof is… well, about how she expected the roof to look. Dull, weather-worn concrete. But it’s the view beyond the edge that captures the eye.

Rachel swiftly passes Max from behind to get to the edge first, her hair blowing in the wind. Max almost reaches out to grab her, a panic-filled moment, but her irrational fears go unfounded as Rachel stops with her arms outstretched in the breeze. It’s second nature to unlatch her bag and get William’s camera out, lining up a shot and pressing the shutter.

The sound gets Rachel’s attention back; she drops her arms and rests a hand at her hip when she turns to look at Max, beaming. “Feels good to be right.”

“And super humble about it, too,” Max says, taking the photo as it prints and looking to store it as safely as she can.

“If there’s a quota for modesty, I think you’ve got it covered. Come here, look.” Rachel sits on the parapet overlooking the grounds and beckons for Max to come over, impressively at ease for being a push away from falling. As Max approaches, she adds, “It looks different from above, doesn’t it?”

Max stands back from the edge just far enough to be confident she won’t somehow fumble William’s camera right over the side. “A new angle can change everything about a shot… or a view. Not just how it looks, but what it means.”

“Nothing like a photographer’s wisdom to start getting all philosophical about a change of scenery,” Rachel says, glancing up to Max. “You could say something like that about people.”

Nodding, Max fidgets with the camera in her hands. “So what’s new about campus from up here — to you?”

Rachel smiles and looks back out to the landscape, the sloping hills sheltered by evergreens, the stately and indifferent buildings of Blackwell, the harsh lights of the football field coming to life well before sunset. And beyond all that, the ocean, the lighthouse a distant pillar. “I can almost genuinely appreciate it. It doesn’t feel so… suffocating.”

“It is basically a bird’s-eye view…” Max muses, thoughtful.

“Yeah, that’s it. So above it all that the bullshit doesn’t matter anymore and it’s just another place.” Rachel laughs softly. “It’s a shame the view doesn’t come with wings to fly away on. Bet I could catch a hell of an updraft from here.”

“Now that would be a sweet shot.” With Rachel not looking like she’s going anywhere soon, Max sits cross-legged on on the roof with the camera in her lap. She hardly has the nerve to sit on that cliff’s edge next to Rachel, but she’s close enough. “Maybe it’s for the best you’re not sprouting wings when Chloe’s not here to see it. She’d hate missing out.”

“Oh, she’d never let us forget it. She’s already gonna be jealous we came up here in the first place.”

Max shakes her head, though not in disagreement. “Better make sure she gets in on this before Blackwell security wises up.”

Rachel crosses one leg over the other and rests her chin in her hand, studying Max. “She’ll get her chance to be on top of the world. This is Max Caulfield time.”

“You want to know what I said to Warren.” Max’s words come with only a touch of accusation.

“Well… unless you’re blatantly blowing him off, which doesn’t seem like you, I feel like the fact that you’re here now says it all. Though I wouldn’t say no to more detail,” Rachel says, playful. “Such as: did you turn him down for now or for good?”

Max sets the camera aside and folds her hands together in her lap. “For good. He took it well, I think?”

“Hey, good for you. For what it’s worth, I got the feeling he was already suspecting the truth. He just needed to hear it from you.”

“’Got the feeling?’” Max asks, brows furrowed. “When and how?”

“Just before you showed up, and by asking questions. We’re both tutors, he tutors you, I asked tutor-to-tutor about his favorite student — easy,” Rachel says, as casually as if she were explaining the directions to the nearest gas station. “I wanted context for how he feels just in case you needed more advice, but as it turns out… no need.”

“Do you go into every conversation with a game plan?”

“Can’t a girl just be curious?” Rachel pauses, then laughs, dropping her hand to rest at her knee. “No, I don’t. Sometimes I have a goal, I’ll admit that.”

Max loops a finger into one of her bracelets and gives Rachel a considering look. “What about now?”

“I don’t need an ulterior motive to hang out with you, Max.” Rachel looks off to the grounds. “We don’t get much time with just us.”

“I wasn’t—” Max stops, looks down at her hands; it wouldn’t exactly be honest to finish that sentence. “We don’t, you’re right. I didn’t know you wanted, um, just-us time. I figured… well, you know.”

Rachel waves to someone below, blows a kiss, but an amused glance back gives away the fact that the true subject of her attention’s still up here. “Do I, now? Okay. What do you think I want, Miss Caulfield?”

Max meets the glance with exasperation, enough that it gets her to stop fidgeting so she can gesture vaguely at Rachel. “I-I mean, Chloe, right?” When Rachel does nothing to confirm or deny except raise a brow, intentionally obscure, Max sighs. “Come on, be real with me. Aren’t you guys getting back together?”

“For someone with so many questions, it took you a long ass time to get around to that one,” Rachel says, her smile slipping well into smirk territory as Max averts her eyes to the scenery. “You’re not as subtle as you think; I know you’ve been wondering.”

“It’s personal,” Max argues weakly, but Rachel gives her a doubtful look.

“And you never ask personal questions, I’m sure. To answer… I wouldn’t say we’re official just yet. It’s a conversation we’ve been having.”

“A conversation,” Max says, slow. Rachel nods, brushing her hair back over her shoulder when the wind pushes it out of place. It’s hard to tell whether she’s begging the obvious questions on purpose or if all this ambiguity is meant to be a deterrent. If it’s the latter, well, Max decides Rachel will have to be more direct if she really wants her to back off. “Fine, I’ll bite. What’s stopping you?”

“Her? Nothing. Girl wants to dive right back in, just like that.” Rachel shakes her head in clear objection to the idea. “I think we need to take some time to assess the circumstances, which are… new, in some ways.”

“Sorry, I’m not following.”

Rachel takes her time before continuing, her gaze drifting down to the short distance of space between the two of them. “Compatibility doesn’t always mean stability. You’re aware of this — if not, Steph can tell you all about it, I bet she’d love a chance to complain about how, mm… temperamental we’ve been. Historically speaking.”

“So I take it you’ve never gone social-media-official,” Max guesses; if there had been a bunch of traceable evidence of those two being that on-and-off, she thinks she would’ve heard about it when she was first hearing about Rachel herself. Blackwell gossip hounds would eat that up.

“God, no. And let Blackwell in on our business?” Rachel smiles ruefully. “Honestly, though, I think avoiding that helped us avoid ever drawing an outline around the shape of us, if you know what I mean. It worked for a while, but I feel like we need… something, I don’t know. Maybe just time to sort ourselves out before we try again. If… we try again,” she adds after a moment, decidedly and uncharacteristically hesitant.

Max grimaces, surveying Rachel with hollow hopes of figuring her out. Sure, she might have a point about stability — but is that really the only thing bothering her? Since when does she care about that anyway? It kind of seems like she enjoys being beyond what is ordinary and calm, despite the risks. “There’s pretty much no way you’ve said all of that to Chloe. Specifically the last part.”

“You know why I haven’t, probably more than anyone,” Rachel says, crossing her arms, brows furrowed. “More than me, even.”

“Whoa, I don’t know about that,” Max says, hands raising defensively. “Chloe’s changed a lot. Just because we’re friends again, that doesn’t mean it’s all the same as it used to be. You’ve been around through… I barely know half of what you’ve gotten up to, actually. I know some of it was intense,” she adds, remembering the scar.

“So you’re seeing her from a new angle.” Rachel sweeps her hand towards the horizon. “That doesn’t erase the past.”

The absurdity of what Max quickly realizes is happening leaves her confounded enough that she needs to ask: “Hold on. Are you seriously trying to convince me you’re somehow less important to Chloe than I am? What?”

“No,” Rachel says firmly. “I’m making a point of your history together. It’s not a value judgement, just an observation. If we’re going to talk about people who really think they’re less important, I have Blackwell’s worst offender right in front of me.” Max huffs a disbelieving laugh, but Rachel leans forward to continue, “Don’t think I’m not paying attention, Max Caulfield. You back off every time we start messing around.”

“You mean every time you start flirting,” Max says, unwilling to lie too brazenly to Rachel’s face — even if she’d much rather claim she doesn’t do such a thing.

“It’s all in good fun. Haven’t you ever flirted for fun?” Rachel’s brows lift in surprise at Max’s blank expression. “Oh.”

“Do I look like someone who flirts, like, for any reason?” Max says, starting to feel restless, the concrete suddenly more uncomfortable to sit on than it was a moment ago. “If I’ve ever done it, I swear it wasn’t on purpose.”

Rachel straightens up, fixing Max with a look of keen deliberation. After casting one more glance out to the view, she lowers herself from the parapet to sit in front of Max on the same level, mirroring her crossed legs. “Well, maybe we should work on that.”

“We?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you going to practice with a mirror? That’s what I thought,” Rachel says, grinning when Max covers her face with her hands. “It’s far easier to bounce off of someone else, anyway. It’s like acting; you need that feedback.”

“What I need is a costume for tonight,” Max says, muffled in her hands. She’s definitely being too obvious about finding an exit strategy, but it’s also not untrue. “I didn’t plan for one, so I might have to get Steph’s help… but first I have to check my closet.”

“Mm, that is a dilemma. Good thing the Blackwell drama department has a dressing room full of interesting shit, and you have your own personal makeup artist.”

Max peers at her between her fingers. “You’d do my makeup?”

“Why not? If you’re willing to indulge me here on top of the world, it’s the least I can do.” Rachel’s smile softens. “What do you say?”

As mortifying as the concept of flirting practice is… Max finds herself tentatively open to it. Thinking about how they even got here makes it clear just how few straightforward answers Rachel gave, which is enough reason by itself for Max to stick around and see if she can pick up on whatever has her so cautious about Chloe. But if it weren’t, the fact that they don’t spend much time together without their mutual friend would seal the deal. Max wants that time, too.

“Alright,” she says, hands dropping to reach into her bag for her phone. “But I hope you know you’re working with a blank slate. I don’t know the first thing about this.”

“Debatable. I’ve heard you and Chloe when you’re fucking with her — it’s not that much of a leap, flirting and teasing are practically cousins. Sometimes they’re one and the same.” Rachel clasps her hands together and rests her chin on her interlaced fingers. “For what it’s worth, I sincerely think you don’t need to be over-the-top about it. You have plenty of natural charm as you are.”

“So you’ve implied… I still don’t get it.”

Rachel laughs softly, watching Max as she searches her messages. “You’re artistically talented, and you’re sweet without being a complete pushover. You listen to people, but you have the capacity to tell it like it is when it matters. You even have cute freckles. What’s not to love?”

“Oh… wow, I didn’t know we were already starting,” Max says, keeping her attention resolutely on her phone even though she’s already in the text thread she needs. The message she wants to write struggles to form in her mind. “Um, one second? I just need to tell Steph something…”

“Sure.”

To Max’s relief, Rachel busies herself with her own phone which significantly reduces the distraction factor. It takes a few seconds to clear her head, but she finally manages to get her message out.

Max: Hey, don’t worry about waiting for me. My costume conundrum is officially handled.

Steph: sweet, what is it?

Max: IDK yet. Rachel’s helping

Steph: oh shit well you’re in good hands

Steph: have fun 😉 we’re doing rattle (rat battle)

Max sighs quietly; she should tell Steph that Rachel isn’t who she was talking about earlier in the week, but it feels weird to do that right now. Over text, and while her current activities are about to include “try to flirt with Rachel.” That’s probably a hard sell. They’ll see each other later and maybe, just maybe, Max can clear things up with Steph then.

Max: Oh no! I really liked that ratlady :(

Steph: for my not-date i’ll make sure she lives another day

“How’s the college girl?” Rachel asks, drawing attention back.

Putting her phone aside, Max says, “Good, I think. She’s running a game for Mikey.”

“Ah, then yes, she’s more than fine. I bet you could ask her for tips at the party, too… maybe she’d suit you better as a teacher. I’m woefully limited when it comes to the love languages of geeks,” Rachel teases, leaning in towards Max, who scoffs gently.

“Being into theatre isn’t un-nerdy,” she says. “And you’ve played that game with her way more than I have.”

“How dare you? I am a thespian.”

“Kinda sounds like something a theatre nerd would say,” Max says, leaning in as well.

Far from being genuinely offended, Rachel’s gaze sparkles with delight. She laughs and sits back against the parapet. “You win for now. Let’s see you try your hand at beguiling me, hm?”

“Uh…” Max looks helplessly at Rachel, who merely looks back with an easy smile and a tilt of her head. It’s not like it’s hard to imagine wanting to impress her, but… where to begin? If she tries to mimic the alluring, playful Rachel Amber way she’s almost definitely going to make a fool of herself — so what would Max Caulfield do if she wanted to win her over? Well, maybe… “Do you wanna see that photo I took earlier?”

Rachel lifts a brow, curious. “Of course I do. Is that even a question?”

“Hey, just being polite.” Max retrieves the photo and moves to sit beside Rachel, holding it up so they can both see. “Oh, good, it actually turned out.”

“Damn, Max! ‘Turned out?’ This is an incredible candid. If I didn’t know better I’d think we planned it,” Rachel says, lifting a hand in an unspoken request that Max grants, passing the photo over. “I love a studio-pro photoshoot as much as the next girl, but there’s something about your spontaneity…”

She trails off while looking at it, thoughtful, and Max almost doesn’t want to interrupt whatever it is she’s thinking about. But she has a mission. “I like to let how I feel lead the way, you know? The goal isn’t just photographing what I’m seeing, but how I’m seeing it. If there’s something — someone — that feels important, or special, or… um, beautiful, I want to capture that right away.”

Rachel glances sidelong at her, warmly appreciative. “I see your game, Caulfield, and I respect it. Sticking to what you’re passionate about is a surefire tactic.”

“Calling it a tactic makes it sound like I don’t mean it. Just, imagine — this photo, titled something like… ‘Queen of the World?’ ‘On Top of the World?’ I dunno, but imagine it next to a future photo of you at the top of the stairs at some superstar gala in LA, maybe even New York. Same title.”

“Well,” Rachel says, lowering the photograph to focus her attention on Max, “you know what this means, right? I need to see that vision come true now, but it’ll only work if Max Caulfield takes both shots.”

“Guess you’re stuck with me, then,” Max says. She leans to bump her shoulder against Rachel’s. “But for the record, I think it’d be pretty hard to get a bad photo of you.”

Rachel chuckles. “Because all my angles are just that good?”

“Not exactly that, but close.” It’s a last-second thing, a stroke of… maybe inspiration, but Max spots Rachel’s hand on her knee and it’s with only a little hesitation that she rests her own on top of it. “Like I said, it’s how I see you. And how I see you is, um, awe-inspiring.”

“Max…” Rachel says softly, her hand turning over to lace their fingers together. Max makes the mistake of stealing a glance at her, in that moment realizing with a jolt just how close together they’ve ended up. “You’re a huge fucking liar. Holy shit. What do you mean you don’t know how to flirt?”

“I— huh?”

“Oh, don’t even. You really, truly had me feeling something. All I have to say is…” Rachel sets the photo down entirely and reaches that free hand over to tip Max’s chin, encouraging her to look more directly eye-to-eye. “Eye contact.”

Max dutifully holds it for about two seconds before she stammers and drops her gaze back down. “T-that’s… not really my best skill.”

“It doesn’t have to be long. Just enough to make that spark fly. Pretty blues like yours, you don’t need much.”

“Thanks. Noted,” Max murmurs, overly aware of the warmth of Rachel’s hand in hers and how little she finds she wants to pull away. “If I tried pulling, I dunno, a random pickup line out of my ass, it would not be smooth. The photography angle’s all I could think of.”

“I would genuinely love to hear a Caulfield pickup line. Not ‘cause I think it’d be good — pickup lines are, overall, pretty damn terrible no matter who says them — but because I want to be a witness to that event.” Rachel gets to her feet, and helps Max up with their clasped hands before finally letting go. “The concrete is kind of an ass-bruiser up here, so we’ll have to bring pillows or something next time.”

“Finished with flirting 101 already?” Max asks, bending down to gather her things and coming up with camera in hand and bag at her shoulder.

“Nope. You’ve committed to costuming by yours truly, so we have all the time in the world… until the party starts, anyway.” Rachel gestures airily to the view, the sunlight already starting to shift in color as it approaches the horizon. “But first, if you want to take some more shots, be my guest. Who knows if we’ll be locked out after tonight.”

Max’s phone buzzes in her pocket; she absentmindedly touches it as she says, “You wanna be in them, or…?”

“Your loyal muse will sit this session out, I think. I don’t want to diminish what you’ve given me,” Rachel says, holding up the photo. “If you don’t mind me keeping this, of course.”

“Feel free. I don’t imagine I’ll be lacking in Rachel Amber shots for the month.”

“What can I say? Your camera eye has risen in the ranks to become my favorite. Don’t tell Evan, he’ll be heartbroken.”

“I dunno, maybe he could use a little humbling,” Max mutters. It draws a laugh from Rachel as she makes her way to the door and leans back against it. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”

“Take your time.”

Never one to pass up an opportunity like this, Max gets a few more good shots out of the scenery — Blackwell Academy, the woods, and beyond all alike. While Rachel occasionally checks her phone, she spends most of the time watching in a way that makes Max feel rather… studied. Not in a bad way, exactly, but in a way that inevitably keeps her cheeks warm and forces her to really focus on her photography in order to avoid the nigh-unavoidable trap of wondering what’s on Rachel’s mind. She has all night… all weekend… who knows how long for that. If Rachel was being serious, then maybe even years.

It strikes Max that she hasn’t really considered an alternative future to the ones tied up in Chloe; either the presence or the absence of her. It’s looking more and more like she’ll have to factor in Rachel, too. Well — “have to” isn’t quite the phrasing. Max wants to keep Rachel in her life. As much as that’s true simply because Rachel is so entangled with Chloe and therefore it’s a foregone conclusion, it slowly dawns on Max that it could be true for another reason.

She lowers her camera after her last shot and swears under her breath. With a thought of Steph crossing her mind, she remembers the message she didn’t check and gets out her phone, thinking it was her. As it turns out, it’s not.

Chloe: hey hey pepsi max u sure you dont need anything? i can get a cool ass fake sword at stephs

Max: “get” or “steal?”

Chloe: dude i couldnt hide a whole sword in my pants if i wanted to. and maybe i kinda want to but there’s no way, she’d be on to me and then my character WILL die tomorrow

Max: I think you could find a way. But not for me, I’m covered ^^

Chloe: yeah figures, rach always has ideas. get that emoji outta here

Max: That barely counts!

Chloe: ehhh its on thin ice. anyway see ya soon, it’s chauffeur time

Chloe: wish you were here

Max: Ditto.

Max puts her phone away with a sigh, aware of Rachel’s curious gaze on her as she approaches the door.

“Affairs all handled?” Rachel asks.

“If you mean telling Chloe I don’t need a prop sword? Yeah, then handled.”

“Ooh. She might show up with it anyway.”

Rachel opens the door for Max and gives her back a light nudge with her hand; the touch, for all it has happened before, feels different. Feels… ever so slightly electric. And maybe that means Max has nothing to clear up with Steph later after all, but at the cost of knowing she is even more fucked than she could have imagined.

Chapter Text

“Quit fucking with it, Max. It looks good!”

Rachel lightly smacks Max’s hand away from her head, where she’d been attempting to make adjustments. Max sighs and lets her hand drop, nervously grasping the strap of her bag to keep it occupied. “Okay, I’ll take your word for it. I’m just worried it’ll fall off.”

“It won’t,” Rachel reassures her. “Something like that? It’s built to stay on while prancing around onstage. This, on the other hand,” she says, lifting her hand to tap at the shiny crown adorning her hair, “demands a more regal posture.”

Max looks to Rachel as they pass under the lights on campus, taking in the black leather jacket, dramatic makeup, and the convincingly-painted skull she bounces in her other hand. “Hamlet never prances?”

“He gets up to plenty of shit but I don’t think prancing around is a popular interpretation of his tragic princeliness. That said, I’m sure it’s been done.”

“I wouldn’t know. You could tell me there’s a Hamlet that eats ham in every scene and I would just have to believe you,” Max says.

“Not quite. You could always choose not to believe me,” Rachel says with a cheeky smile, gently nudging Max’s shoulder. “Some might say that’s the smarter choice.”

Max wrinkles her nose. “Some people don’t get it, then. Maybe I wanna pretend to live in a world where some poor actor had to eat an unreasonable amount of ham for Shakespeare.”

Rachel laughs and links their arms together as they make their way into the dormitory wing of campus. The football game goes on, the cheers and music floating up from the bright-lit field, which means the rest of the school might as well be a ghost town until it’s over. It’s actually a relief, the fact that they’re ready ahead of time — Max needs a minute to mentally prepare. Sure, she’s had all day… all week… but another minute would be nice.

“Last I heard, so about five minutes ago, the game was in overtime,” Rachel says, noticing Max’s look trailing downhill. “It’ll be done any minute.”

“Oh? Who’s your man on the inside?”

“Miss Juliet Watson, of course. A good reporter follows the action… and supports her jock boyfriend,” Rachel adds after a beat. She grins at Max’s poorly-hidden grimace of distaste. “I see you’re not rooting for the quarterback.”

“Zach’s a dick,” Max says with a huff. “I just don’t know what she sees in him.”

Rachel clicks her tongue, says, “Well, I think it’s less what she sees in him, and more what he puts—”

“Rachel,” Max whines, quickly shaking her head and inadvertently proving the earlier point as her costume piece stays in place. “I don’t want to know. Not… that much, anyway.”

She gets a lightheartedly skeptical look in response, but Rachel lets both the subject and Max’s arm go upon reaching the front steps of the dormitory building. Before she gets to the doors, however, the sound of hurried footsteps draws their attention away to someone jogging up to them. Max finds herself greeted with the sight of Steph far removed from her usual style; between the khaki getup, binoculars hanging from around her neck, and distinctly un-beanie-like hat, she looks like some kind of wilderness explorer.

“G’day, ladies.” She hails them with a lift of her hat.

“Damn, you didn’t mention going all the way down under,” Max says, ignoring the urge to wince at her own joke.

Rachel looks Steph up and down approvingly, adding, “Well, well. Welcome to Oregon, Steph Irwin?”

“Ah-ah, wait,” Steph says, reaching into a breast pocket to withdraw a small stack of cards. She offers one out to Max and puts the accent back on. “I’m on the lookout for a real elusive fella.” The card depicts a simple, though well-done, drawing of a goose. The only text reads WANTED: WILD GOOSE.

It takes a second, but Max realizes the connection just as Rachel also receives a card: “You’re on a wild goose chase!”

Steph beams. “I knew there was a reason you’re my new favorite ‘sheila’ in the bay,” she says, pleased.

“Is there a reason these have a very… outlaw feel to them?” Rachel asks, pointing at the card with a raised brow. While Steph’s mood hardly dampens, she rolls her eyes and lets out a sigh.

“Fucking… blame Chloe for that.” She looks over her shoulder, arms crossing. “I thought she’d catch up by now. Anyway, I had a sweet Wild West sheriff thing going, photocopied the cards, and then she pulled some bullshit that forced me to pivot. Whatever, she’s lucky I had a backup plan.”

Rachel laughs. “Aw, I’d bet no one else will notice. Only the people who know how much of a stickler you are for details.”

“Speaking of details, check you guys out,” Steph says, putting the rest of the cards away. She gestures to the skull currently tucked under Rachel’s arm. “Modernized Hamlet?” Rachel nods and performs a bow. “Awesome, killing it like always.” Turning to Max, Steph smiles, plainly endeared. “And it’s kinda impressive you found a way to look even cuter.”

Max, hopeful that the makeup on her cheeks will lessen any incidental rosiness, shakes her head sheepishly. “That was all Rachel. She had free reign ‘cause I had no ideas.”

“Every work of art begins with a great canvas,” Rachel says airily. “I can’t take all the credit.”

Steph’s knowing smirk in Max’s direction hardly helps the whole bashfulness situation, but she takes a breath and looks to take control of it by offering a hand out. “Let’s see if anyone else is an early bird. Uh, Rachel, can you…”

Rachel glances off to the other side of the dormitory grounds. “Keep watch for our lady of punctuality? Sure. My plus-one, my responsibility.”

“Ooh, she’s all yours,” Steph says, taking Max’s hand. “The menace-o-meter’s on full blast today.”

“Can’t wait,” Rachel says as she leans back against the wall, pulling out her phone. “Scope it out and let me know if there’s a desperate need for something good to drink… I have one last bottle in my room that I might be feeling generous enough to donate to the cause.”

Max leads Steph in and up to the second floor, headed for the communal lounge that she’s pretty sure no one has used this semester until now. Between points A and B, when Max lets go in anticipation of opening the door, Steph says, “You guys broke into the drama lab, didn’t you? I recognize some of these pieces.”

“Is it ‘breaking in’ when it’s left wide open?” Max doesn’t have to see it to sense the look Steph gives her, but she looks back anyway and shrugs. “Well, we sorta started on the roof here, so it’s not like it was the first break-in…”

“Okay. Now I get it.”

“What?”

“You and Chloe. You’re both trouble,” Steph says with a grin. “Which is a compliment, for the record. She drives me up the fucking wall sometimes, but I wouldn’t take her any other way. I’m a little surprised she’s still a student after her suspension and all the other bullshit.”

“You and everyone else, apparently,” Max says, pausing on the second-floor landing. “I’m more surprised she hasn’t dropped out on purpose. If she didn’t have a reason to stick around, like you and Rachel—”

Steph snorts. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, but no way. We’re friends, sure, but not… whatever you’d call her and Rachel. Point is, it’s rare as hell to see her caring what anyone thinks.”

Max makes an uncertain sound. “I don’t know about that… she gives a lot more fucks than you’d think.”

With a lighthearted roll of her eyes, Steph shakes her head, leaving Max with the gently unsettled feeling that she’s missing something. Maybe even the whole point. “Yeah, but… y’know, never mind. I wanna know how many fucks you think she gives.”

“Um. At least three?”

“Huh. Fair enough.” She laughs and gestures towards the lounge, following shortly behind as Max takes the cue. “Loving the tail, by the way.”

“Rachel insisted,” Max sighs, looking ruefully over her shoulder. “It was a compromise over not taking the shoe… cover things. They were just so awkward to walk around in, I felt like I’d trip on stuff.”

“Probably a good call. At least on stage you get to know all the tripping hazards inside and out.”

“The day I perform on any stage is the day I die of embarrassment,” Max says before turning through the doorway into the lounge, where she’s greeted by a room transformed from a boring and sparse gathering place into an explosion of Halloween colors. The outdated TV set plays something black-and-white that Max doesn’t recognize. A long folding table has been brought in from who-knows-where, pushed up against a wall and covered in an array of snacks and non-alcoholic drinks. Max catches sight of the corner of a case of beer peeking out from under the spiderweb-patterned tablecloth.

While it’s possible Dana set some of this up before the game, there’s no way she did it all herself. And sure enough, the room isn’t empty; Steph’s the first to call out to the person standing on a chair, hanging up one corner of a purple banner and wearing soft cream-colored bunny ears. “Kate, is that you?”

Kate looks over her shoulder in surprise, a delighted smile coming over her when she sees who has arrived. “Steph? And Max, hi!” She steps down carefully from the chair and sets the banner to rest on it before approaching Steph with a warm hug. “It’s great to see you again.”

“You too,” Steph says. Max wanders to the table to look over the offerings there, hoping not to interrupt the reunion. “How’s your dad?”

Pulling out of the embrace, Kate’s shoulders relax even further. “He’s well, thank you. He still goes to those interfaith lunch meetings, you know.”

“Damn, even after all that went down?”

Kate laughs softly. “He goes alone now, but yes. I think he’s hoping your mom will show up again for more, um… friendly debates?”

Steph snorts. “Oh, is that what we’re calling it now? Not a modern, tiny schism?” She gives Kate a pat on the shoulder and proceeds past her to pick up the other end of the banner. “I’ll let her know she won’t run into her sworn enemy anymore, maybe she’ll drop by again. She gets lonely.”

“I still feel bad for what happened…” Kate says as she gets back on the chair, more easily lifting her end of the banner now that Steph’s involved.

“Don’t sweat it, Kate,” Steph says, quieter and more serious. “A, neither of us were even there. And B, something some woman I’ve never met said to my mom like two years ago isn’t keeping me up at night. That privilege belongs to my essays and… uh, you know, other work.”

“That is a relief.” Once the banner is hung up on one side, Kate steps down and moves to take the other from Steph — but Steph shakes her head, instead holding a free hand out for the chair to do it herself. “Oh, thanks.” As Steph finishes hanging the banner, Kate watches with a thoughtful look, though she keeps whatever she’s thinking to herself.

“There,” Steph mutters, hopping down and looking up at the decorations. Before long, she gives Kate a sideways glance. “You do know it’s Halloween, right? Not Easter?”

Kate rolls her eyes and nods, smiling. “Well, just because these might be the same ears I wore while chaperoning the kids last Easter, that doesn’t mean they can’t just be regular bunny ears too. I didn’t think I’d come tonight until Dana asked if I could help set up, and… she can be very convincing when she wants to be, but I only had a little while to find something to wear.”

“Yeah, not gonna lie, I didn’t expect to see you here. Kate Marsh, party girl in the making?” Steph teases.

“Not exactly. More like… a girl who’s a little party-curious.”

When Max peeks over at Steph, she can’t help but be amused by how obvious it is that she had some joke loaded up and instantly thought better of it. “Mhm. Sure, yeah, makes sense. A little curiosity never hurt anyone.” She catches Max looking and grins, lifting a brow as her only warning before: “Right, Max?”

Before Max can respond, Kate brightens and gestures for her to come over, offering a hand out. Relieved that she’s being saved from Steph’s innuendos, Max approaches and takes the offer, smiling in spite of her nerves when Kate clasps her hand in both of her own. “Speaking of people who aren’t normally party people,” Kate says playfully, beaming, “I’m so glad you came too, Max. I already feel better about this.”

“Same here,” Max says. “Is anyone else who isn’t a Vortex regular showing up, do you know?”

“I think so. Alyssa mentioned being interested when we talked yesterday. Um…” Kate lets go of Max to take her phone from her pocket and check it. “Brooke was coming, but something came up. I couldn’t tell you about anyone else, really.” Her train of thought gets derailed by soft laughter when Steph lets out an aw hell yeah, dude! over finding the booze under the table. “By the way, your costume is very sweet and very Max.”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” Max says, fiddling with her sleeve. She reaches again for the disclaimer: “Rachel’s idea…”

She cuts herself off when she hears loud, familiar chatter approaching from the hall; a few seconds later, the door swings open and Chloe steps backwards through it with Rachel following, an amused smile on her lips as she listens with her arms behind her back.

“It totally works with your getup, alright?” Chloe says, finishing off some argument that seems rather one-sided considering Rachel’s only response is a shake of the head. She rounds to face the room and blinks at the sight of at least one more person than she must have expected, though she recovers quickly with a casual wave. “Well shit, the party’s all here.”

“Pretty rich coming from a woman walking into a Halloween party without a costume,” Steph says, straightening up with a bottle that she points in Chloe’s direction. The accused crosses her arms and narrows her eyes. Max looks her up and down, finding little out of the ordinary other than the fact she has decided to zip up her jacket for some reason.

“Steph has a point,” Max says, putting on a look of (mostly) faux disappointment as Kate smiles behind her hand. “It’s not very ‘party animal’ of you.”

Chloe’s gaze slides to Max and Kate, and she sighs as she draws up to them. “I guess you two would know, huh?” She smiles, flicking one of the ears on Max’s headpiece. “We’ve got Bambi and Thumper here. A whole-ass adorable Disney special. Hell, there’s even the hunter,” she adds, gesturing to Steph, who’s mid-sip and can only flip her off for a moment before speaking up.

“You’ve used up all your fuck-with-me points already, dude, watch it.”

“Hey, I told you, no cops in my truck. Not even old-timey fake ones.”

“Yeah, fine, whatever,” Steph grumbles, returning to her beer. She makes a face and looks to Rachel, who’s leaning against the wall near the door, observing. “We might need some salvation from all this cheap beer.”

Rachel’s nose wrinkles and she opens her mouth, but a different voice chimes in first.

“Ugh, I can’t find Courtney’s fucking tape. We need to ask one of your—” Victoria comes in briskly through the open door and practically screeches to a halt, wide-eyed. She clears her throat, and, after taking stock of the room, says, “What the hell are you all doing here? The party hasn’t even started yet.”

“I would beg to differ,” Rachel says from beside her, an almost imperceptible smirk on her lips. “This is a near-ideal party roster, don’t you think?”

Victoria spares Rachel a quick look before peering past Max with furrowed brows, a smile coming about once she locks onto Steph. “Isn’t it a bit, I don’t know, lame for a college student to be here? I guess all the fish in Seattle aren’t biting.”

Steph’s jaw works but it’s Chloe who steps in, leaning an arm on Max’s shoulder — which partly blocks line of sight past them. “Thing is, we’re all lamer for being in the same room as Victoria Chase. Hate to break it to you.”

Max feels a gentle touch at her arm and looks to find Kate giving her a small, apologetic smile before walking up to Victoria. “I think it’s great that Steph still wants to spend time with us. I might have extra tape in my room, if you want to…”

Victoria’s attention falls on Kate; her defensiveness hardly lessens, but she pinches the bridge of her nose and lets out a short breath. “You know what, forget the tape.” She glances at Max, then offers an arm to Kate with an imperious lift of her chin. “Dana can handle a few paper skulls. You need some fucking… whiskers or something, some makeup or whatever. No way in hell you should look more low-effort than Maxine Caulfield.”

Kate links her arm with Victoria’s. “If you say so,” she says. As she’s led out of the room, Max distantly hears her add: “It’ll be a long night if you’re just gonna be mean…”

A few seconds of silence and processing later, Steph says, “I’m sorry, since when are they friends?”

“Since a couple of weeks ago, I think?” Max says uncertainly. Chloe shrugs; Rachel looks with curiosity to the doorway. “I don’t know how it happened, exactly. I’ve been kind of distracted…”

“Wild, but alright. Hasn’t made Victoria much less of a bitch yet.” Steph rolls her eyes and drinks deep. When she finishes, she pulls the bottle away slowly, her stare fixed low on Chloe’s person. “Chloe Price, what is that in your back pocket?” she asks in a low, warning voice.

“Wow, didn’t take you for an ass girl,” Chloe says, snatching the object — a maroon-colored beanie — from her pocket just before Steph lunges to grab it. “None of you have any faith in me. I have a fucking costume. It was supposed to be a surprise, but…” She trades her own beanie for the one that had just been stuffed haphazardly into her pocket, then unzips her jacket to reveal a t-shirt emblazoned with a stylized 20-sided die as well as a necklace featuring a small silver dragon. “Rach, my prop, please.”

“How did I know you’d need it before the party even started?” Rachel says; she brings a notably well-constructed prop sword out from behind her back and hands it to Chloe, laughing when Steph groans. “I would apologize but, your Honor, the crime was committed long before I was made an accomplice.”

Chloe steps back and poses with the sword raised against her shoulder, her other arm slung around Steph, who relents with a long-suffering sigh. “You’re the worst,” she says, lacking genuine heat.

“What do you think, Max? Uncanny, right?” Chloe asks, as smug as ever — a high bar. “I didn’t even have to hide the sword in my pants.”

“Your character is so dead tomorrow,” Max says. She’s unable and unwilling to stop herself from cracking a broad, endeared smile at how very Chloe Price this dumb stunt is. It would’ve been fine if she stuck to her weird ‘costume protest’ thing, but Max is glad she didn’t.

“Hella worth it if true,” Chloe says. She squeezes Steph against her side in a short hug and lets go, turning to peruse the snack offerings on the table. Offhandedly, she says, “Does this mean I’m Max’s date now, or…”

She crouches down to search through the alcohol options as Steph softly mutters oh my god and takes up a perch on the arm of the couch. Max joins her, sinking into the seat proper while Rachel feigns offense and says, “And what does that mean for my date?”

Chloe looks up at her with a beer in each hand, the sword temporarily left to rest against the table. “Nothing. It’s like some… quantum physics shit. Like uh, a superposition, sort of a Schrödinger thing? Right now I exist as both Steph and Chloe, ergo,” she says, gesturing dramatically with one of the bottles, “both yours and Max’s date.”

“Is she serious?” Steph says under her breath to Max.

“It’s Chloe. Of course not,” Max answers in kind. “She’s just messing around.”

“Sure.” Steph shakes her head and downs the rest of her drink. “I just don’t think I’ve ever heard someone use such smart words to…” She pauses, visibly searching for words and coming up either empty-handed or reluctant. “Fuck, dude. I need another drink.”

“Let’s maybe… not clean out the whole stash before Dana gets here,” Max says, watching Chloe hand Rachel one of the bottles and get a kiss on the cheek in return. She turns to Steph, pulling her legs up onto the couch. Quietly, she asks, “Are you, um, okay? I’ll make sure Chloe gets that stuff back to you, she might forget otherwise…”

She gets brief confusion in return before Steph’s expression softens into a half-smile. “It’s fine, that’s no big deal. Just some harmless bullshit. A couple of years ago that might’ve pissed me off more but I’m actually pretty zen about it. It’s almost a compliment. Don’t tell her, though, I want to get my revenge.”

“Then… Victoria?”

“Bothered me for like, five seconds, yeah. Then I remembered I don’t give a shit.” Steph laughs. “She’s objectively wrong anyway. My fishing net runneth over.” She puts a hand on Max’s shoulder and squeezes gently. “Don’t worry about me, Max. You’ve got enough on your hands. You’re the one stuck here.”

Max considers not letting it go — Steph seemed more bothered by Victoria than she’s letting on — but she has no clue what she could do about that. In fact, it might actually be more helpful to forget it and move on. Like Steph says, she gets to walk away. “Okay, okay. I just want you to have a good time.”

“Aw, you’re sweet. I’ll have a good time whether Victoria likes it or not, I swear.” Steph opens her arms to the room at large. “I mean, come on. They made fun, but this is gonna be a room of hot girls my age and no strings to attach in sight that could possibly reach Seattle. If I don’t enjoy this, that’s on me.”

“I guess with that kind of confidence, you could be right,” Max says with a small laugh. She can keep her thoughts about convenient distractions to herself.

“Hey, confidence is basically a superpower, you should try it. Chloe’s confidently wrong all the time.”

“Whoa,” Chloe says; Max looks up to find her approaching and Rachel disappearing through the doorway with a coy wave of her fingers. “Talking shit already? She’s getting better drinks,” she says to Max’s inquisitive point at the door. “But we’re gonna hide it so the good stuff’s all for us.” Chloe drops unceremoniously onto the couch on Max’s other side, close enough that they touch despite all the extra space. She rests the sword across both of their laps.

Max smiles and leans into her. “Maybe I’ll even try some of this ‘good stuff.’ Maybe,” she repeats when Chloe looks just a little too excited. “Only if this is as chill as I’m hoping.”

“I’m hoping to be entertained, personally,” Chloe says. “Vortex Club parties got boring to watch after a while so I stopped going. Dana might be one of ‘em but she’s not as into the hard drugs — some of these girls’ll have to look for other ways to up the ante in their absence. I’m betting on a catfight.”

“Is there any big drama to start a fight over?” Steph asks, and Chloe hums noncommittally.

“If we’re lucky, we’ll find out.”

Her beer-free hand lifts to poke at the small antlers on Max’s head, then she rubs one of the ears between her fingers. Max raises a brow at her. “Are you going to mess with my ears all night?”

“No...” Chloe says unconvincingly. “They’re so soft.” She lowers her arm to rest around Max’s shoulders instead. “Pretty fucking unfair how adorable of a deer you make.”

“Faun, technically… according to Rachel. Maybe I needed the hooves to sell that better.”

“The tail’s even softer,” Steph chimes in, looking over with a mischievous grin.

Max makes a face and puts up a warning finger in Chloe’s dawning impish expression. “No tail grabbing.”

“Fine. But let me touch it when you take it off so I know if Steph’s being a liar.” Chloe tilts her head to meet Steph’s gaze. “Wanna make a call on what we might witness tonight? Like… some of the guys trying to sneak in, or someone passing out?”

Steph sits back with a more thoughtful look than Max expected. “I’m not in the know around here anymore… but I’ll say there’s gonna be some kind of relationship drama. That’s usually a safe bet.”

“Oh shit, you don’t know the latest about Dana and Logan, do you?” Chloe asks.

When Steph shakes her head slowly, Chloe starts recounting the details of that recent break-up. Max lets the conversation wash back and forth across her and spends the time idly brushing her fingers along the dull foam blade of the sword in her lap. If asked the same question about expectations, she’d have no answer — Max has no idea what to expect. She doesn’t even really know what she wants out of tonight, apart from hoping they don’t get busted with the booze and that no one gets hurt. Aside from Victoria getting butthurt or something.

It takes a little while for Rachel to return, but when she does, it’s with a plastic jack-o’-lantern she got from who-knows-where. When she brings it over to the couch, she opens the top to show that there’s a bottle hidden inside before setting it on the side table nearby, as if it’s just another decoration. Before long she’s involving herself in the gossip, leaning with her elbows on the back of the couch in such a way that the skull she rolls around in her hands almost falls on Max. She catches it, presses the skull lightly to Max’s cheek in a ‘kiss,’ laughs and continues the conversation.

Max sinks slightly in her seat, surrounded. Speaking of unsure expectations…

An hour later, the room has transformed.

The harsh dorm lighting has been turned off in favor of string lights and electric candles, the TV set quietly plays an old horror B-movie while music overpowers it, and a respectable gathering of dorm residents has formed now that those who were at the game have since filed in with their costumes and amped-up weekend energy. Max stands with Kate — who had returned with bunny cheeks, nose, and whiskers painted on — at the back wall, the two of them chatting softly with solo cups of non-alcoholic but intensely sugary punch in hand.

“We really do match, don’t we?” Kate says cheerily, giving Max a playful nudge.

“You’re in a good mood for someone who was just hanging out with Victoria Chase,” Max says.

Kate glances Victoria’s way, and Max follows suit. She’s hovering near the table with her usual minions, dressed in sleek black with cat ears and a mask around her eyes. It puts her in steep contrast with Taylor, who’s gone all pink as Elle Woods. Courtney has taken a somewhat more traditional approach as a classic Halloween witch, complete with pointed hat and broom… though Max is pretty sure the sharply tailored dress isn’t referencing any scary witch stories.

“It’s like I told you the other day,” Kate says. “She’s… different when she’s on her own. That doesn’t excuse what she said earlier, though. I think she wasn’t prepared to see you and the others here.”

Max hums through a sip of punch. “She looked like she saw Frankenstein’s monster for a second, yeah.” The idea that Victoria’s somehow scared of them is a funny thought; it’s not like Max is scared of her or anything. She’d just rather not linger around Victoria much if she can help it. It’s not proven that bitchiness is contagious, but best not to test that hypothesis. Unless you’re Kate Marsh, apparently.

“’Tis the season,” Kate jokes, which draws a smile from Max. “Um, I actually kind of like the Victoria I’ve met at tea and everything. She’s more real and less…”

“Like a reality show contestant trying to tear everyone down?”

“Well. Yes.”

“More power to you,” Max sighs, pulling her gaze away to look around more of the room. Not too far away from Victoria and company is Rachel, talking to Juliet (currently dressed as Rosie the Riveter) with that familiar easy smile on her lips. “I like the idea that she’s a decent person, I just haven’t seen much of that myself. Not that I don’t believe you,” she reiterates.

“I know. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. I wish she wouldn’t treat her real self like some kind of shameful secret, but I’m trying not to judge her for it. I just feel like maybe if more people respond positively to that side of her, she’ll feel better about it?”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re too nice?” Max teases, which earns her a light bump on the arm and a huff from Kate.

“I can be… rude. Watch.”

“Oh, that wasn’t a challenge, I—”

Max cuts herself off, way too curious about what Kate means to stop it from happening. “…Okay, so I won’t be rude about anyone here,” Kate says, “but I had a meeting with Mr. Madsen last week about that detention period…” Max frowns. “He realized something must have happened because you and Chloe took your stuff from the office.”

“Damn. Here I thought we got away scot-free.”

“Well, hold on. He was interrogating me, and I was scared of getting in trouble, but he was being so… mean about Chloe. More than usual, I don’t know if he was just in a bad mood or what.” She looks down at her cup, a small smile forming. “So I, um, just told him what I thought about how he was acting. And a little bit what my dad, who’s a pastor, would think — but mostly me. I think it shocked him out of his mood enough that he gave up and let me leave. He was just being such a… ugh, a real asshole! I didn’t say that part to him though,” Kate adds hurriedly.

Max stares at her, trying to imagine the scene. “Wow, that’s… really brave. And a dick move on his part, tracking you down so many days later. Bet you Chloe just ticked him off that day so he suddenly decided to care about it.”

“Maybe. It was nerve-wracking, but it felt good.”

“I think you should totally tell Chloe about it,” Max says earnestly. She motions towards the couch, entirely hogged by Chloe stretched across it with one arm folded behind her head as she drinks and cackles about something Steph, leaning over the back, must have said. “She’ll think you’re a hero, standing up for her.”

Kate ducks her head shyly. “I don’t know about that. You can mention it if you want.”

“Only so she knows her stepdad tried it. It’s not like I know him that well, but… yikes.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Kate says with a laugh. She lifts her cup expectantly and Max smiles, tapping her own against it as another pair of partygoers approaches them. Alyssa, flowery and flowy with round yellow-tinted glasses, and Stella, dressed in a dark high-collared cape and trying to fix one of her vampire fangs. The former impassively flashes Max a peace sign.

“Hi Max. Sorry if we’re interrupting,” Alyssa says, “but Stella needs emergency fang assistance.”

“It’s just… not staying…” Stella mutters with a slight lisp, giving Kate a pleading look. “Alyssa tried already.”

Kate sighs, but her smile comes off more humored than put-upon. “We should go somewhere with better light. Come on.” She takes Stella’s wrist in her free hand and gives Max a quick apologetic look — returned with an unbothered, understanding nod — before the two of them slip away from the party, Alyssa trailing.

Left alone, Max finds herself picking at the rim of the plastic cup while she watches and listens to the cadence of the room. It’s not especially rowdy, to her relief, but the night has barely begun. The most noticeable sound is Chloe’s laughter, though whether that’s because she’s really the loudest or Max is just inclined to pay attention to it is up for debate.

“Hey, wallflower girl.” Max startles, luckily without spilling all over herself. Dana, who had somehow managed to reach her undetected, leans against the wall and grins. She glitters in the low light with a flashy red-and-gold circus ringleader look, complete with askew top hat and touched up with blood splatters. “I see you didn’t completely cop out. Kudos.”

“Hi, uh, thanks,” Max says. “You look… wowser. You did all that after cheerleading the whole game?”

Dana laughs. “It’s the adrenaline. Listen, I’m getting some of us together for a few rounds of Truth or Dare to start spicing things up, are you in?” Max hesitates in answering, casting a glance in subconscious search of Chloe as if that’ll help her come up with what to do. “No pressure, really. I just need a headcount.”

“I’ll sit this one out,” Max finally says. “But I might hang out and watch if that’s okay.”

“Could anyone stop you?” Dana says, brow raised. “That’s your brand. Besides the camera, of course.”

Max rubs at her arm. “I’m still getting my sea legs. If there are more games later…”

“Jump in whenever. If it makes you feel any better, the later it gets, the less likely everyone’ll remember what happened.” Dana gives her a wry smile and Max laughs softly.

“I don’t know if it does or not, but copy that.” Dana moves on with a friendly pat at Max’s arm, gracefully moving through the room to catch up with Juliet and Rachel on the other side. Max drifts to the couch, having noticed while talking that Steph got wrapped up in conversation with someone else, leaving Chloe looking bored and antsy. She leans over the back and says, “Having fun?”

Chloe perks up, pushing herself to sit against the armrest. “It’s pretty fuckin’ tame, but too early to call. You?”

“I like that it’s chill so far.”

“Of course you do,” Chloe says, rolling her eyes. “It probably won’t get batshit without Nathan pumping in his little rich bitch drugs to everybody, but you better let loose a little, girl. You don’t have to drink, but c’mon — the sun’s down, it’s Friday night, you can do more than stand in the corner.”

“Like you’re doing so much. You haven’t moved in forever,” Max says with a huff.

“This couch is valuable real estate, Max. I can’t just give it up,” Chloe says, so serious that Max nearly snorts with laughter at the absurdity of it. “Besides, I’m gonna get in on some Truth or Dare in a minute. Then we’ll see who’s really letting loose.”

“I almost don’t want to know what you’re going to try to get Victoria to do.”

“Don’t lie like that, Caulfield.” Chloe grins. “Are you gonna play?” When Max shakes her head, she honest-to-god pouts. “Maaax.”

“No way,” Max groans. “I told Dana I’ll think about joining some other game.”

Chloe considers Max with a skeptical squint before leaning in closer. “How ‘bout one round, just you and me? No one else. We don’t even have to come up with each other’s challenge or whatever yet, we just gotta do it before the end of the night. Deal?”

Max gives the idea some thought, worrying her lip. Chloe watches her with interest, a glimmer of excitement in her eyes at the prospect of a little game just between them. It reminds Max of their old tree fort, where they came up with so many of their adventures apart from everyone else they knew. A secret, special thing just for them. “Okay. Fuck it.” Max sighs, smiling when Chloe pumps her fist in triumph. “Truth or dare, Chloe Price?”

“Truth.” Chloe sits back again, wearing a confident smirk like she just found a loophole. “You know I’m an open book, so take your time.”

“Yeah, right. I’ll get a real secret out of you, just wait and see.” Truthfully, Max has no idea what to ask — but she has all night to figure it out. They were out of contact for five years, so maybe she can get a hint from Rachel about something she can pry into… within reason.

“Lean on that Irish luck. Your turn.”

“Dare,” Max says with hardly a second of hesitation. The last thing she needs is to be compelled into being honest about her crush… possibly crushes, and Chloe would never let her live down a lie if she tried it. Sure, maybe that wouldn’t be the truth asked of her, but the risk is too great. “But you can’t dare me into drinking alcohol or…”

“Dude, come on, I’m not that much of an asshole. You trust me, right?” Chloe asks, the bottle hovering near her lips. Her words come flippant and casual; the apprehension in her gaze is anything but.

“Of course,” Max says softly, and she’s not sure it’s loud enough to hear but Chloe relaxes and drinks nonetheless. “I’m sure you’ll come up with some bullcrap, but nothing like that. I just… I dunno, wanted to be clear.”

“Crystal.”

It turns out their agreement was made in the nick of time; within moments, a small gathering starts forming loosely near the couch. Chloe moves her legs and wordlessly pats the spot next to her, which Max takes as permission to sit next to her, soon followed by Rachel taking up Max’s other side and Steph squeezing in on the far end. Juliet joins in, pulled along by Dana, and so do Courtney and Taylor — to Max’s surprise, considering Victoria hangs back. Based on the dirty look Victoria casts their way, Max can only guess that she knows the risks she’d take playing this game with this group.

It’s a simple enough setup. Going around the warped circle shape they’ve ended up in, each person picks someone else. If the truth-or-dare-ee refuses whatever’s asked of them, they drink, which cements Max’s decision not to take part as the right choice. She’s still not opposed to trying alcohol, but this isn’t exactly the setting she wants to start in.

Dana quickly proves herself a reliable referee, shutting down a couple of unreasonable or outright dangerous dares. She doesn’t get in the way of much else, though; Chloe dares Steph into downing a horrible-looking blend of drinks and snacks in a single shot that has her skipping an entire round to recover.

Rachel seems to enjoy coming up with questions for truths the most, undiscerning in who she targets and occasionally sharply pointed. For instance, when Courtney picks truth, she smiles sweetly and asks who she thinks has worse fashion taste: Victoria or Taylor. (To no one’s surprise, Courtney drinks, glaring daggers.) Whether she chooses truth or dare for herself appears spontaneous at first, but it doesn’t take long for Max to notice that she avoids truth completely when dealing with more notable gossipers.

After one such turn, Chloe leans close to Max’s ear and murmurs, “She fucking sweeps at two truths and a lie, we should’ve played that. Bet you wouldn’t dare test your skills, though.”

“Is that your dare?” Max whispers back.

“Nah. I can do better.”

Dana and Juliet, naturally, can’t help prioritizing each other for the sake of playfully needling a close friend. Taylor and Courtney aim their judgement at whoever they feel like embarrassing or getting some worthy tidbit of information from, probably to give Victoria some ammo. Meanwhile, Chloe and Steph both make valiant efforts to pick from the entire group — but from the shot dare onward they enter an eye-for-an-eye battle of wills, Chloe’s unwavering dedication to choosing truths leaving Steph few ways to properly get back at her.

“What the hell dude, can’t you handle one dare?” Steph says, exasperated.

“Obviously I could, I just don’t want to,” Chloe says. She motions lazily to Dana. “Done. Next.”

“Fuck that. Wait.” Steph holds a finger up to Dana, who in turn holds her hands up — she’s not getting in the middle of this. “That wasn’t my question.”

Chloe rolls her eyes and leans forward, elbows on knees, to look expectantly at the other end of the couch. Rachel sits back to give the pair of them as much face-off space as possible, placing the skull she’s still been holding delicately in Max’s lap as if for comfort. “Someone’s playing with fire,” she says quietly. “Wonder who’ll get burned?”

Whether ignorant or unaware of Rachel’s commentary, Steph makes no indication; she meets Chloe’s gaze and smirks. “Remember you literally asked for it and tell me, if you could only keep one in your life, who would you choose: Max or Rachel?”

Chloe’s cocksure smile slips away, her eyes widening before they narrow into a near-scowl. Max can feel some of the others watching her and Rachel, so she focuses her attention on the skull and pretends her heart hasn’t dropped into her stomach. The answer seems pretty damn obvious, even if it’s not an easy one, proven by the way Rachel keeps watching the exchange with mild, unbothered interest.

“That’s fuckin’ dirty, Gingrich,” Chloe finally says, breath let out hard like she’d held it. “Whatever, I’ll let it slide. Only ‘cause that shot was nasty.”

She lifts her drink in Steph’s direction with begrudging respect and downs the rest of it as her answer.

The game moves on with little more fanfare than a soft exhale from beside her, but Max finds herself stuck in her thoughts. When Dana decides to engage Rachel in the next turn, the latter leans forward to hear better over the increasing noise. Max peeks past her to Steph, whose satisfied smile falters when their eyes meet. Her lips part, but then she thinks better of it and takes on a contemplative demeanor for a few turns before she pulls her phone out. It doesn’t take long for Max’s phone to buzz in her pocket.

Steph: hey sorry

Steph: got pissy but shouldn’t have dragged you into it. some real v. chase bullshit

Max: No hard feelings ^^; is it really that obvious it got to me tho?

Steph: dude. literal deer in headlights

Chloe tilts her head to peer at Max’s phone, frowning when it’s quickly put away. “What’re you up to?”

“Uh, secrets for tomorrow,” Max says without much confidence in the lie, which shows and she knows it. Chloe watches her, something obviously on her mind, but after a glance in Victoria’s direction she shrugs.

“Tell me later, yeah?” she eventually says, closer and softer. Max hesitates, then nods. Maybe in all the party chaos, Chloe will forget — not that it makes Max feel much better about the situation. She’s brought out of her single-minded focus on what happened a few full minutes ago when Rachel gets up from the couch to help out with some dare setup and Steph takes the opportunity to slide into the vacancy.

“Are we cool?” Steph asks Chloe, who answers with a puzzled look that soon breezes into understanding.

“Yeah? It’s just a dumb game,” Chloe says. Her hand waves dismissively. “If we lived in a fantasyland where you could somehow make me choose for real, then yeah, that’d be fucked. Not that I’d let you have that much power in the first place.”

“Says you,” Steph says, but she smiles in clear relief that her targeted attack wasn’t overkill.

The game soon fizzles out, not with anyone declaring it over but rather with the competitors getting distracted and moving elsewhere until there’s no point continuing. Apparently content that Max and Steph will guard the couch in her stead, Chloe ventures off to steal a family-sized bag of chips from the snack table, promising a swift return.

Steph notices Max still has the skull and gives it a poke. “So are you just babysitting poor Yorick or is this a shared jester custody situation?”

“…Jester?” Max asks, picking up the skull to look at it. “I don’t know anything about Hamlet.”

“Feel like changing that?”

Rachel, who had vanished for a few minutes, reappears out of the party depths to take Chloe’s place. She also takes the skull back, holding it up in that famous monologue pose. Max knows that part, at least.

“He was the jester in the king’s court when the prince was a kid,” she says, “and when the gravediggers are digging a grave for Ophelia, they end up exhuming this guy’s skull and Hamlet, like any perfectly well-adjusted guy, picks it up and monologues at his friend about it.”

She pauses to grin at Chloe’s huffiness upon returning with the chips, freshly beer-less as well. Rather than squeeze in at the end, Chloe lays herself across all three laps and hugs the bag to her chest.

As if nothing has changed, Rachel continues, “Anyway, it’s a pretty short speech, but it’s basically about Hamlet reflecting on the inevitability of death. He’s reminiscing about the days when Yorick was alive and they spent time together, but coming to terms with the end of those days. Existential as hell, but true — everybody dies, and good memories will eventually just be memories.”

“Wow. He must’ve been great at parties,” Chloe deadpans.

“You have no room to talk,” Rachel says. “Not with some of the dramatic shit you’re writing on every unmarked surface.”

“That’s way different. Imagine if I wheeled out that fucking skeleton in the science lab…”

The light bickering continues; Max exchanges amused looks with Steph, who’s equally trapped. Well, almost — after a few minutes of idle conversation she mutters to Max something about looking for her sword and taps Chloe’s legs. When there’s no response, she shoves them off of her and gets up, nearly toppling Chloe to the floor. They trade middle fingers, both grinning, before Steph wades back into the party.

Max almost considers following, but Rachel’s arm ends up around her shoulders before she can make her decision.

“I want to hear more about Seattle,” Rachel says, ignoring Chloe’s groan. “I feel like I’m always looking southbound, but maybe…”

“Well… it is pretty artsy, so you’d probably like that,” Max says. She looks at Chloe, who’s staring at the ceiling, pretending she doesn’t care. It’s not very convincing. “Maybe not so much the weather. It was nice, and I met a few cool people, but it wasn’t like some Treasure Island. I think it’d be better to take it on with, um… a pirate or two.”

“Oh, yeah?” Chloe chimes in, giving up her act surprisingly early. In fact, she actually looks… kind of genuinely curious, if wary of the topic. “So where’s the treasure?”

“What?”

“The treasure. The good shit.” When Max still struggles to understand, brows furrowed, Chloe sighs. “Tell us where you’d take us, Max. You’re the one who’s been there for years. Don’t tell me you fucked off to the big city and didn’t do anything.”

“Would that really surprise you?” Max asks, admittedly stalling as she once again processes the us of it all and how overwhelmingly inevitable it feels. She gets a stony look in return and hastily continues, “Okay, okay, I didn’t sit on my ass for five years. There’s the obvious touristy stuff, like around Pike Place…”

Chloe folds both arms behind her head as she listens, the chips left on the floor and forgotten. Rachel listens as well, pensive with only a few breaks in her train of thought for commentary. Whatever either of them has on their mind, Max can’t fathom — so she keeps on.

Deeper into the night, the drinks have made their mark, although it doesn’t seem like anyone’s having a bad drunk time… yet. Max remains sober and, honestly, she’s glad for it. The drunkest in the room is most definitely Juliet, complaining loudly about Zachary to a vaguely exasperated Steph as the latter not-so-subtly suggests broadening her horizons. The most sober, alongside herself, is unsurprisingly Kate.

It’s a bit of a blur, how Max has found herself cozied up on a beanbag chair by the TV. Chloe and Rachel went off to god-knows-where, she talked to Kate and company for a little while, she went to get more punch only to decide not to test the likelihood that someone has spiked it — and now she’s here, the bass line of the music resounding in her chest in a way that has become weirdly like physical white noise. What started out overwhelming is… well, not not overwhelming, but normalized to the point that she can more or less ignore it.

The beanbag shifts with added weight and Max looks up from the phone she’s not really using to Dana, still impeccably made up but definitively tipsy. She leans against Max and sighs. “Can I ask you something, Max? You were so nice about the whole break-up thing.”

“Yeah, of course,” Max says. She’s not sure she’s the best source of advice for someone like Dana, but she can try.

“Trevor’s a sweet guy, but we agreed to wait before making anything official—”

“Oh, um, I don’t know if boyfriend advice is really…” Max starts, but Dana shushes her.

“Let me finish,” she says, gentle but firm. “It’s not exactly boyfriend stuff. I’m just wondering if it’d be weird to… try something new, even though I’m pretty sure I’m going to give him a chance anyway.”

Max, resigning herself to getting glitter on her hoodie as Dana leans heavier, asks, “I guess it depends on the new thing? I mean, I sort of think you can do whatever you want. I don’t really get what not being official with Trevor has to do with it though… is there another guy you’re into?”

“No,” Dana says simply. “There isn’t anyone specific I’m into. It’s not, like, dating someone else that I want to try. Maybe. I just wonder sometimes…”

“Sorry, you’re losing me.”

Dana exhales sharply. “It sounds shitty to just say it, but — you won’t judge me, right?”

It definitely depends, Max thinks, but she can’t imagine Dana wanting to do anything that she’d judge too harshly (aside from enjoying the Bigfoots games). She shakes her head and Dana studies her with only slight unsteadiness before she seems to accept the answer.

“Okay. I want to kiss a girl,” Dana says bluntly. “Not to like, make anything serious happen, but to try it. Is that weird?”

Max blinks. It’s not like the thought didn’t occur to her, but she was hoping it’d be something she actually knew anything about. Instead it’s just making her think about her own dilemmas, which is wildly unhelpful all around. “Uh… and you’re asking me because…”

“Mostly because Juliet’s wasted,” Dana admits. “Plus, I love her, but she’s not the best at thinking things through even when she’s sober.”

“Right.” Max won’t argue with that assessment. “Well, I guess I don’t think it’s weird? As long as, um, everyone’s on the same page, I don’t see anything wrong with… learning something about yourself. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to be doing at this age? Finding ourselves or some bullshit like that?”

Dana gives her a bright smile and a hug. “That’s what I was thinking! But I couldn’t tell if it was the beer talking.” She draws out of the hug almost before Max can react to it. “I really like Trevor, I just feel like it’ll be nice to stop wondering.”

“Hey, you don’t need to explain yourself to me,” Max says, smiling and cheered considerably by Dana’s enthusiasm. She has no idea — and she won’t ask — how long Dana’s been questioning herself, so it must feel good to have a chance to answer that question. But… Max might have one more piece of advice, after all. “Just be careful. It’d suck to get mixed up with a bunch of feelings around a classmate; we still have almost a whole year left.”

“Oh, girl, way ahead of you.” Max waits for elaboration, but it doesn’t come — just an assured smile. It also turns out to be a mistake to think that Dana’s finished, that she’s going to march off to interrogate her sexuality at this very moment, because instead of any of that, she sits up and turns to face Max directly. “So, wait, have you ever…” She stops herself, suddenly inspired. “No, there’s a more fun way to do this. How do you feel about Never Have I Ever?”

“Nervous?” Max says truthfully. It’s not hard to guess what Dana was about to ask. “But I did say I’d try a game, so… fuck it.” It’s a game about things that have been done, not things that are never going to happen, so it seems safe enough.

“Not to assume or anything, but I bet you have an advantage over most of us here. Which means I need to select players carefully…” Dana holds up a finger in a ‘wait here’ gesture and gets up, searching the room with purpose.

Max sits back and lets out a long breath. It’ll be fun to actually participate in something for once, or so she tells herself.

It’s Alyssa who wanders over first, once again flashing Max a peace sign before she sits on the floor nearby. She takes off the tinted glasses and makes a face. “These were a bad idea for an indoor party.”

“At least they look cool?”

“Yeah. Worth it.”

Then it’s Dana making her return, followed by Rachel who decides to share Max’s beanbag chair as soon as she spots it. “Well, look at you, Max. Finally getting into the party spirit?”

“Trying to, anyway. Where’s Chloe?” Max asks, looking past Dana who pulls over another chair for herself. “I thought you were together.”

Rachel smiles like she expected the question and shrugs before she mimes a drag off a cigarette. “Taking a chill-out break. She used to do it all the time when she still came to Vortex parties, until she was smoking more than she was partying.”

When Dana’s settled and Max starts to wonder if this is everyone who’s taking part, two more partiers turn up: Kate, trailed by Victoria doing her best impression of a person who totally doesn’t care what anyone’s thinking. It doesn’t really work for her. Kate smiles warmly and gives Max a wave before taking a seat in the small circle. Victoria remains standing for a second longer, scanning the group with reluctance — and Max can’t entirely blame her; it’s not a combination of people she would have seen coming, either.

She does sit, though, chin held as high as ever, and says, “Let’s just get started.”

“What are the stakes?” Rachel asks, looking at Dana — but it’s a scoff from elsewhere in the circle that answers.

“Why do you care?” Victoria says with less bite than usual, yet she still manages to be the human embodiment of an eye-roll. “It’s not like you have any chance of winning.”

“Exactly. I’d like to prepare for the inevitable.”

Alyssa sighs, sliding the glasses back on. “What about whoever wins picks a punishment for everyone else?”

“Sounds fair to me,” Dana says. “I doubt our most likely winners will go too hard on the rest of us.”

Victoria glares in Max’s direction before leaning over to Kate. It’s clear enough that she intends to keep her words between the two of them, but in her mildly intoxicated state she overcorrects for the noise and says just a touch too loudly, “You better fucking win instead of Maxine.”

Rachel grins and says to Max, “That sounds like a challenge.”

“Okay, enough stalling, girls,” Dana says before anyone else can speak up. She points across the circle to Alyssa. “Alyssa first, starting at… let’s say eight, whatever.”

“Oh. Sure.” Alyssa taps her fingers on her crossed legs as she thinks, then says, “Never have I ever broken a bone.”

That knocks a point off for Dana as well as Kate, the latter of which sheepishly recounts the time years ago that one of her younger sisters left a toy at the top of the stairs and she tripped on it. It’s her turn next, and she opens with a vengeance by declaring that she has never had alcohol for nonreligious reasons, a prompt that hits every score except Max’s.

Victoria then locks on to Rachel and says, “Never have I ever skipped class. At Blackwell. I don’t give a shit if you ditched your elementary school’s spelling bee.” Sure enough, Rachel rolls her eyes and puts down a finger — but so does Alyssa.

“What?” Alyssa says to the surprised looks, unperturbed. “It was gonna be a dumb class anyway. Just some weird movie.”

The game moves on to Dana, who says she has never ghosted on someone. Max guiltily puts a finger down, finding herself joined by Rachel and Victoria. To her relief, no one questions her about it before Rachel takes her turn to make a pointed attack.

“Never have I ever worn an outfit worth more than five hundred dollars,” she says. “That wasn’t for a special occasion, of course.”

Victoria groans. “That’s bullshit.” Even after she puts a finger down, she says, “I think it’s a shame not to consider our futures special enough to dress well for class.”

“Tell that to the scholarships… they’re not exactly paying for Dior,” Max says, which just earns a frustrated huff. It takes a second to realize it’s her turn, everyone watching Max expectantly. “Oh, uh…” Her first instinct is to avoid seeming like she’s targeting anyone, particularly Victoria given the circumstances, so she picks as broad a topic she can think of. “Never have I ever gone on a date?”

“Wow, seriously?” Dana asks, putting a finger down along with everyone else. “Not even once?”

Max shakes her head. Victoria looks ready to pounce on the moment, but Kate intercedes by saying, “Well, the only reason I’ve dated at all is because my mom set me up to have lunch with a guy our age from church, so it barely counts. I think it’s kind of sweet that you’re not rushing into anything.”

That’s not quite the reason — Max had seriously considered asking someone out in Seattle, the very boy that she mentioned in passing to Chloe that strange, wonderful night, but she chickened out at the last minute like usual. No kiss, no date, nothing. She won’t argue with the attempt to divert Victoria’s provocations, though.

Two rounds later, the game has proceeded about as expected with just a few minor revelations. Dana and Alyssa have one finger left each, and Max has three while Kate has two. Rachel and Victoria, naturally, contributed directly to each other’s downfall as the vendettas begun in the first round had continued. The little group has picked up a few curious observers, Steph and Stella among them, but Chloe still hasn’t turned back up.

“Dude, you’re killing it,” Steph mutters to Max. Nearby, Stella whispers suggestions to Alyssa.

“Killing what? I’m just proving I have no life,” Max says, mostly joking but obviously not enough as Steph shakes her head.

“Half the shit I’ve heard here doesn’t even matter. Just wait ‘til you’re not trapped in the same stuffy buildings five days a week.”

“It’s all in good fun,” Rachel adds. She’s been lounging against Max’s side and providing color commentary since she was eliminated.

Max glances at her, picking up a distinct sense of déjà vu. “Like flirting?”

“You’re getting it,” Rachel says, with a sly smile and a wink for good measure. It’s not the charm of it that flutters the butterflies in Max’s stomach for a moment (though it doesn’t hurt) but the recognition that the time they spent together earlier is now some… private, personal thing between them. It’s a feeling that’s different, yet familiar; a rhyme made by a newfound phrase.

Alyssa clears her throat, diverting attention. “Never have I ever listened to a sermon at church.”

Kate, astonished, stares at her for a few seconds before even remembering to put a finger down. The surprise wears off quickly into a lighthearted smile and she puts on a woeful air. “Wow. My own friend…”

“Damn. I didn’t know the modern-day Judas was in the room,” Steph says, which gets a snort of laughter out of Kate. “Oh shit, you too, Max?”

“Yeah,” Max says, ruefully holding up two fingers. “It’s been forever, but we used to go for Christmas and stuff. But, wait — Alyssa, don’t you wear a cross?”

“Uh, for fashion, yeah. It was a gift from my grandma and it looks cool.”

Stella looks somehow more excited by Alyssa’s success than the player herself, vampire fangs on full display as she grins smugly, hands balled into fists like she’s watching a close sporting match instead of a silly party game. She’s the one who presses it along by saying, “You’re up, Kate. I can make it more fair and help you too—”

“No, I know what to do,” Kate says, confident. She sits up straighter, meeting Alyssa’s eyes with a rare look of pure mischief. “Never have I ever dyed my hair.”

Impressed murmurs go around the gathered group as Alyssa groans, but nods in solemn acceptance. “That’s fair. Low-hanging fruit, but fair.”

Max slowly puts down another finger. It would be easy to lie — the only person who knows the truth isn’t in the room — but she can sense Rachel’s watchful gaze on her and… frankly, it feels like she wouldn’t get away with it, nor does she care that much about winning.

“Oh, no,” Kate says upon noticing. “I didn’t mean to get you too, Max!”

“It’s okay—”

“Sorry, are we apologizing for playing the fucking game now?” Victoria asks. It’s a minor shock she’s still paying attention, considering she’s been spending the time since her elimination focused on her phone. The look she casts Max’s way is a familiar one, more often than not preceding a snide insult, but she just sighs instead. “Tell the stupid hair story or not, but hurry up already. I need a refill.”

“It’s not much of a story. Instead of asking our parents if we could get wigs, me and Chloe dyed each other’s hair for our Halloween costumes one year... or tried. I remember she was trying to get mine to go blonde? It didn’t turn out right so we ended up scrapping the costume idea, whatever it was.”

Victoria’s nose wrinkles. “You? Blonde?”

“I know, I know. Not my color,” Max says, hoping to cut her off at the pass of continuing the thought. At least it’s something they agree on — if Max ever does dye her hair for real, that won’t be her go-to look, and that’s fine.

“Whatever, like you’d even care.”

There’s something odd and strangely resigned about Victoria’s tone, but there’s also no way to interrogate that without provoking her, so Max motions for Dana to take her turn instead of dwelling. She can dwell later when she has her trusty journal back in her hands and fewer personal problems to think about. For now, it’s Dana watching her curiously that takes priority. Apprehension builds tight in Max’s chest along with realization: Dana hasn’t forgotten the question she wanted to ask in the first place.

“This might be a total Hail Mary, but let’s be honest, I’m not going to win anyway,” she says with a laugh as she looks around at the others. “So, fuck it, let’s make this interesting. Never have I ever… kissed a girl.”

A pause of silence follows, in which looks in varying degrees of confusion are exchanged around the group as Max quietly considers whether to be up-front. Sober-Dana probably wouldn’t care if she decided to answer her later, in private; buzzed-Dana’s just enjoying herself and not thinking about the whole… public declaration part of it. At least she hopes that’s the case and she hasn’t just misinterpreted her entire personality. Steph exhales a soft laugh and speaks up first. “Uh, how hammered are you? I’m not playing.”

“I’m aware,” Dana says, a brow raised in Steph’s direction. “I have my reasons.”

“Oh.” Steph catches on within the next moment, a knowing smile coming over her — and there’s Dana’s other reason for bringing it up here and now, apparently. “Got it. Loud and clear.”

“Good. So… no lucky losers?” Dana asks, looking between Kate and Max.

“I don’t know what you expected,” Victoria says, rolling her eyes. “You could have saved me some trouble if you didn’t let that one burn a hole in your pocket this long.”

Rachel laughs, unruffled. “Personally? I think you could save all of us trouble if you try it sometime.”

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“That’s for you to find out, V. None of my business.” Rachel prevents further questions by turning to Kate, saying, “You could take gold here, K—”

“Wait, uh…” Max says, surprising even herself. She takes a deep breath and puts her hand down. “I’m out. But I’m not gonna say anything about it,” she adds firmly. “It’s… a thing that happened. No big deal.”

“They don’t let you stay in Seattle that long if you don’t do something a little gay,” Steph jokes, but Max picks up on what she’s doing and appreciates it.

Kate folds her hands in her lap, brows furrowed. For a split-second, Max worries she’ll take issue. “Now I feel like mine is a little bit of a cop-out. Never have I ever kissed, well, anyone?”

“I’m calling it fair so Vic can get her refill on.” Dana uses her remaining raised finger to point at Kate. “We have a winner!”

Max’s fear that she’d become the next topic of conversation turns out to be unfounded as the attention lands on Kate and wondering what she’ll have everyone do instead. The idea that it was some one-off in Seattle, helped along by Steph’s tease, makes it so much less dramatic and interesting than the real circumstances, influenced by Max’s own feelings. If they knew who, and why, and the fact that she can’t bring herself to get over that damn kiss…

Victoria ends up telling Courtney, who just showed up, to go refill the drink for her. Max barely pays any mind to that, though; she waits anxiously for Kate’s ‘punishment,’ ready to do it and then take a bathroom break to check her deer makeup and breathe for a minute. Rachel’s tossing out suggestions like several of the others, but her focus splits off to Max every so often, intrigued.

“I don’t want to make anyone do something humiliating,” Kate says, gently shutting down the theme behind many of the ideas that have been given to her. “We’ve shared a lot already. How about… everyone has to whisper a secret to the person on their left? I’ll take part, too.”

Max looks left — to Rachel, who doesn’t bother hiding how pleased she is with this turn of events. But first, as Kate becomes occupied with a whisper from Victoria (who either forgets or is too tipsy to hide an uncharacteristic sheepishness alongside her baseline annoyance), Alyssa taps Max’s right shoulder and leans in.

“I don’t know details, but I think Kate has a crush on somebody,” she says quietly. “She’s acting like it anyway.”

“Shouldn’t this be a secret about you?” Max asks, not especially proud of how immediately invested she is in this tidbit about Kate. It’s just that she has never seemed all that interested in that stuff, and Max hasn’t really noticed anything… but she’s also been distracted.

“Kate didn’t clarify so I’m taking the loophole. Don’t snitch on me, Max,” Alyssa warns.

“I… okay, I won’t.” Max might be curious, but she’s not a Victoria; she’ll keep this safely to herself.

Speaking of things Max wishes she knew — she turns back to the left to find that Rachel has already given Dana her secret, and now waits patiently with an eager glint in her eye. “You know what I want to know, Max Caulfield. Will you indulge me?”

“I don’t know… I’ve indulged a lot already today,” Max says.

“I won’t tell anyone.”

Max sighs and decides to give in. It’s not like anyone who knows even a little about her couldn’t guess within three tries. She still blocks view of her lips when she leans close and murmurs, “I kissed Chloe. One time. Like I said, it’s just a thing that happened.”

If she can get across the fact that it didn’t mean anything, then it won’t mess with Rachel and Chloe’s… whatever they’re doing. Rachel just nods, her thoughts inscrutable behind her smile, so Max can only hope for the best. The moment breaks when Steph delicately moves past them to reach Dana, and Max overhears her say, “So let me get this, ha, straight—” before lowering her volume.

Rachel playfully flicks one of the deer ears and gets up, stretching her arms. “I’ll catch up with you again later, Max. Don’t get in too much trouble.”

“Never.”

She doesn’t wait to see where Rachel’s going; Max gets up soon after and makes for the door, really needing that bathroom break right about now. It’s not until she’s blinking upon impact with the harsh fluorescent lights of the hallway that she notices she has company.

“Looks like we both need some air,” Kate says, smiling. “But I actually… had fun. Did you?”

“Yeah,” Max says honestly. She might be a bit overwhelmed, but it was nice to be part of the excitement instead of just watching it. It helps that there weren’t any major social disasters. “Congrats on the win.”

“Oh, please, we all know it doesn’t really mean anything,” Kate says with a laugh. She leans back on the wall, head tilted so one of the bunny ears flops forward at the tip. “I was worried winning would… well, you know. It wouldn’t be my first time getting made fun of for my lifestyle choices. But no one said anything like that for once, not in a mean way.”

“I guess it really does make a difference to take the Vortex out of the club.”

“Maybe,” Kate says thoughtfully. “Or maybe it’s not the party but the people who are different. Either way, I’ll just count my blessings.”

“I hear you.” Max takes a deep breath and motions to the dorms. “I’ll be right back, I just… bathroom.”

Kate nods and stays in the hall while Max keeps going. Right as she opens the door to the dorms, she catches a faint whiff of tobacco smoke and hears a familiar voice from the stairwell: “Max? Are you ditching without me?”

The first thing Max notices when she turns around, for some reason, is that Chloe has the sword again. “You know I’m not. Um, I’m just taking a break.”

“Shit, so was I. Want company?” Chloe smiles and lightly prods Max’s stomach with the sword. “I could take a few more minutes, no one would care.”

“Rachel might,” Max points out. “We just finished a game of Never Have I Ever. Don’t you want to hear how it went down?”

“You actually played?” When she nods, Chloe groans. “Fuck, I missed it. Yeah, sure, I’ll go bother Rach for the goods.” She starts to walk towards the lounge, but pauses and turns back. “If you take too long, I’m coming for your ass, Caulfield. You’re not getting outta my dare by disappearing.”

She raises the sword menacingly and Max laughs, shaking her head. “I’m not trying to get out of anything. The suspense is killing me too much. Don’t you have an idea yet?”

“Is that your truth question?”

“What? No, obviously not.”

“Then I don’t have to answer, so come back and find out,” Chloe says, grinning. She lifts the sword up to rest it on her shoulder. “You’re not the only one waiting.” With that, she strolls back to the party and Max pushes her way into the dormitory area for some much-needed alone time, ignoring the urge to forget her break and join the debrief that’s about to happen.

Her makeup is, impressively, still perfectly intact. Max supposes that’s the magic of stage makeup, as Rachel had put it — along with the talents of the woman herself. She’d been too shy to do it earlier, but now she figures is as good a time as any to take a photo of her costume so that Rachel’s work can live on past tonight. Not to mention it’s proof for her parents that she’s making the effort to socialize, as they’ve been gently but insistently suggesting for weeks.

While she examines the photo on the way to her room to drop it and the others in her bag off before returning to the party, her phone buzzes. It’s Chloe’s name on the screen, and Max braces herself for a tease or who knows what else since Rachel has probably shared what she learned.

Chloe: u don’t remember why we were dying our hair???

Chloe: we were gonna be each other for halloween and trick our parents

Chloe: fucking stupid in hindsight. ur too short to be me

It should be a relief that she doesn’t have to fend off a kiss-related line of questioning, but instead it’s weirdly disappointing. Max grabs her water bottle to bring back to the party and tries not to think too hard about it.

Max: Way to cut deep, I’ve NEVER heard that one before. Sorry I couldn’t be a convincing enough tree for you :(

Chloe: ok miss attitude cool it. on second thought maybe u could pull it off. on stilts

Chloe: better hurry back, your date’s got a hot cheerleader hooked

Max: My “date” can do whatever she wants, cheerleaders with shitty exes included. But I’m on my way, I swear. :)

Chloe: no emoji etc etc

It’s nearly midnight when Max realizes the party has thinned out somewhat. The drunkest of the bunch have wandered off to the privacy of their dorms for the most part, including Victoria and her sidekicks who are almost certainly gossiping away in one of their rooms rather than going to bed. She’d spent the last couple of hours with the bitchiness turned up to eleven — as if she felt like she had to make up for taking it easy on everyone during the game — so Max isn’t upset to see her go with a weaving gait, her cat burglar mask lost to the party somewhere.

Overall, it’s been a better time than Max had dared to hope. She recently learned that Steph’s a weird movie enthusiast which is right up her alley, so they’ve assumed control over the TV with Elvira (brought in from Steph’s home) and taken it upon themselves to share bits of obscure horror movie trivia to suit the occasion. This started after Dana tapped out of their clandestine and experimental make-out session, of course, with Steph telling Max that she was the one who insisted on sitting her down with Juliet and giving them both water so they wouldn’t feel too much like death in the morning.

“Not to mention it’d be a damn shame if she forgot the whole thing,” Steph cheekily adds. “She was always sweet when I stage managed, so she deserves to have a good time and remember it. I can’t believe I never knew she was on our team, though.”

“Neither did she,” Max says, shrugging. When Steph takes a little too long to respond, Max glances at her and finds furrowed brows. “Steph?”

“There’s something there with team, and cheerleader…” Steph leans back on her hands and sighs, shaking her head with a smile. “My roommate says my puns get worse when I’ve been drinking, so I shouldn’t bother, huh?”

“Maybe not. But that kinda sounds like quitter talk, which is fine if that’s what—”

“Oh, fuck that,” Steph scoffs; Max laughs, pulling her knees to her chest and watching the thought process play out. “Referencing But I’m A Cheerleader’s too easy, dammit.”

“Is ‘cheering for both teams’ too cliché?” Max asks.

“Nah. Or… maybe, but who cares? You win,” Steph says, bumping her shoulder against Max’s. “Sucks we didn’t get to be classmates, but better late than never for making an awesome new friend, right?”

Max smiles softly, nods. “Agreed.” She chews at the inside of her lip, indecisive, before barreling ahead: “Chloe totally thought we’d hit it off, like… a lot more seriously if we met in Seattle. She didn’t tell me your name or anything at the time but it’s pretty obvious you’re the one she said would, um, ‘pounce’ on me.”

Steph bursts into laughter. “Does she think I’m asking out every cute girl on sight? Fuck, dude, I have some restraint. There’s not enough time in the universe to do that, unfortunately.” She grins and rests her chin in her hand, watching Max. “Not saying I wouldn’t consider it. If you were a total stranger, and I saw you out taking photos on that rad old camera at the arboretum or whatever, I like to think I’d try to get something going.”

“But…”

“But you’re not a total stranger, which means I know — and I mean this as nicely as possible — that you’re hung up as hell on your feelings. I get it, we’ve all been there, but I’m not really looking to get in any more mess than absolutely necessary.”

Max hums, sheepish at the very mention of those pesky feelings. It’s hard to resist a little friendly pushback, though. “You don’t think kissing someone at your old school who’s all but committed to a new relationship counts as mess?”

“Come on, Max. That’s a service.”

“Uh-huh. So if I asked—”

“You’ve already admitted to the room that you’ve done the damn thing. It wouldn’t be a first.” Steph raises a brow. “Does Chloe know about that, by the way?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Of course,” Max says, passing it off as a matter of sharing between close friends. “She’d never let me live it down if she didn’t get to know every detail about my first kiss. It’s part of the best-friends-since-childhood package.”

“Knowing her, you’re probably right.”

It looks like Steph wants to say more, lips parted as she considers her next words, but they’re interrupted by the arrival of Alyssa and Stella, the latter barely held upright on her friend’s shoulder. Alyssa gives Max an apologetic look. “We have a beer pong casualty but Kate’s busy. Can one of you help me get Stella to her room?”

“I can go ‘nother round,” Stella insists, her case less than helped by the sway and stumble when she tries to get out of Alyssa’s hold. “It was just… bad luck.”

“I’ve got this,” Max says to Steph before getting to her feet and taking up Stella’s other side. Despite her verbal protests, Stella hardly resists being walked out and into the dorms, rambling along the way about how she’s been thinking about working coat check for the Vortex Club for extra cash. Max makes a face when they stop to open her dorm room door. “I don’t know… I get needing money, but there’s gotta be other ways to get it, right?”

“Oh, Max…” Stella sighs heavily without explaining further and enters her room, using walls and furniture to maintain her balance until she drops into the bed. Max can’t help but peer curiously into the room — Stella always keeps her door shut — and notices relatively sparse décor, a no-frills approach to a space that’s definitely more dedicated to studying than anything else. She does have a few posters and postcards up, though, which show off an interest in photography and famed artists that Max didn’t realize she had.

Alyssa sits next to her, a laptop in her arms, and waves Max off. “Thanks for the help. We’ll chill and watch a movie, go hang with whoever’s left.”

“Are you sure? I can go get water, or… something…” She trails off when Alyssa points out a jug on the nightstand. “Never mind. Have a good night.”

She shuts the door and takes her time walking back to the lounge… at least until she hears a whistle and laughter from that direction and picks up the pace to see what’s happening. Max had figured that the party was winding down for good, but when she turns the corner through the door, she spots most of the remaining partiers once again sitting in a circle. Kate, while not directly participating in whatever’s going on, smiles behind her hand with pink cheeks as she watches from the couch. Max beelines to join her, though her question is answered not by asking, but by catching sight of an empty beer bottle spinning in the middle of the circle.

“I was gone for, like, five minutes,” Max says, settling in next to Kate, who immediately leans against her shoulder. She seems tired, endearingly so. “They really got this set up that fast?”

“It was Rachel’s idea,” Kate says through a yawn and the titters of the group when Juliet gives a grinning Steph a peck on the cheek, practically falling into her when her sense of balance fails and she has to be caught.

Max smiles at the antics, then looks askance to Kate. “You don’t usually stay up this late, do you? Should I be telling you to go to bed?”

“No, it’s okay,” Kate says. “I’ll get there eventually. It’s nice to see everyone having fun, and it’s not like it’s a long walk to our rooms.”

Maybe Max reads too much into it because of what Steph told her earlier in the week, but she swears there’s a beat of hesitation when Steph leans in to kiss Rachel on the cheek — only for Rachel to tease her about being too safe, after which Steph rises to the challenge to kiss her briefly on the lips, coming away with darker cheeks that she plays off with a roll of her eyes and a sip of her drink. Chloe tauntingly prods Steph in the side during the next turn (in which Rachel dramatically kneels in front of Dana to kiss the top of her hand) and they get in a minor scuffle of whispers and light shoves. It ends with Chloe getting pinned back against the couch by Steph’s sword and looking up to realize with an elated smile that Max is there.

“Ow, my tits,” she mutters, but Steph has returned her attention to the game.

“You asked for it,” Max says.

Chloe laughs, resting her head back on the cushion. “Fuck off, it was hella worth it. She never gets all flustered like that.”

“Such a kind and sensitive soul.”

Kate snorts with a stifled laugh and Chloe sticks her tongue out. “Watch it, Caulfield. I still have a pending dare… actually,” Chloe says, clear blue mischief in her eyes in spite of the alcohol haze as she sits up and turns to better face Max. “I’ve got one.”

“Oh, yeah?” Max says, wary.

Chloe leans forward so her arms, folded, rest on Max’s lap. She grins with pure self-satisfaction and says, “Yeah. I dare you to do a round of Spin the Bottle. Right now. Whoever the bottle lands on, you kiss. Boom, done.”

“That’s it?” Kate says, almost at the exact same time as Max groans. She looks with disbelief at Kate, who shrugs and says, “It’s just one kiss, right? Sounds easy for someone who’s already done it.”

“Good point, K. It has to be a kiss on the mouth,” Chloe amends, but then she narrows her eyes at Max, who sighs, exasperated. “Wait, have you been telling—”

“I’ll explain later,” Max says quickly. “But no, not with specifics. Is this really your dare?”

“Take it or leave it. But if you leave it I’m coming up with something gross instead.”

Max wrinkles her nose, but she knew before she even reacted that she’d be doing it. She’s just stalling, really, and if she does it any more Chloe might up the stakes further. “Okay, fine. But Kate’s cozy here, so you spin it for me.” It’s not necessary, but making Chloe do a little extra work feels like appropriate payback for now.

“My fuckin’ pleasure.” Chloe turns around and leans back into the game, placing a hand on the bottle to stop its spin. The others start to object at varying levels of volume and displeasure, but she shushes them. “Jeez, drunk-asses, relax. I’ll release the bottle hostage in a second — I need to spin for Max.”

That effectively shuts down all dissent, which turns into looks of interest and excitement instead. Max can already feel her cheeks getting warm at the prospect of having an audience, but she tells herself that it’s not meant to be a serious kiss. Plus, the girls will probably forget all about it by the time the next person goes. Chloe won’t, but that’s a non-issue — Max doesn’t mind her playful jabs nine times out of ten.

“Let’s see who’s the luckiest bitch at Blackwell,” Chloe says, spinning the bottle hard so it whirls for several long seconds. It’s long enough for Steph to give her an incredulous look, then glance back curiously at Max, who mouths I don’t know because it’s true. Max settles herself with the idea that Chloe’s hyping her up to the others for effect — she has been drinking, after all.

The bottle finally slows as the narrow end approaches Chloe, passes her on towards Steph — which fills Max with relief at first, suspecting that Steph wouldn’t make a big deal of this for her sake at least. But the bottle doesn’t stop until it inches to point at Rachel instead, and that comes with a host of completely different feelings colliding like some kind of chemical reaction in the pit of Max’s stomach. It’s not all bad — actually, most of it isn’t bad — but it is intense in a way she couldn’t have expected.

Dana lets out a low whistle as Juliet leans forward with wide-eyed interest beside her. Kate, Max’s partner in sobriety, gives her an encouraging pat on the shoulder and sits up to be out of the way while Chloe whoops upon Rachel getting up and passing by.

“Oh, shut up,” Rachel laughs, waving a dismissive hand in Chloe’s direction before sitting beside Max, who’s happier even than before that her makeup obscures her cheeks. But mostly she’s nervous, for the first time understanding a sliver of that weird star-struck notion that permeates the Blackwell student body when it comes to Rachel Amber. The woman in question lowers her voice and drifts close to murmur, “Ignore them. Pretend we’re back on the roof... I’ve just said that a little kiss can go a long way, even on the cheek.”

While Max appreciates that Rachel’s trying to lower the pressure gauge on the situation, turn it into just another part of the game they’d been playing, a kiss on the cheek isn’t what she agreed to do. Like hell she’s testing Chloe’s capacity for upping the ante if she gets annoyed that Max isn’t doing the dare properly. Not to mention… the idea of catching Rachel Amber off-guard is pretty damn tempting in and of itself. She’d gotten so close earlier, had actually kind of enjoyed trying, wading out of her comfort zone with someone who might as well be the antithesis of a such a thing.

So, rather than following her first instinct to overexplain so that Rachel knows what’s coming, Max bites her tongue and meets Rachel’s gaze — holding it just long enough to see her begin to wonder, which is luckily about as long as Max can take between the audience she can’t entirely forget about and the fact of Rachel watching her as if she has successfully entered a universe in which they’re alone.

Max inhales deeply, mutters okay to herself, and mentally dives in. She puts a bracing hand on Rachel’s leg and kisses her, a tiny firework of pride in her chest when the initial response is a stuttered breath that proves her personal goal achieved. The second response morphs that burst into a butterfly; Rachel smiles soft against her lips and takes her cheek in hand in a silent request that Max can imagine in Rachel’s voice with ease. Ignore them. Indulge me?

With a hint of the secret expensive wine unfamiliar but not unwelcome at her tongue, Max indulges.

She’s unsure for how long — time turns strangely in the midst of a kiss, she’s discovering — but it’s long enough that she doesn’t regain her sense of place until the music changes to the next song, interrupting its tandem dance with her heartbeat for just a moment. Max pulls away with a sheepish breath, keeping her eyes averted from the others in sheer bashfulness. Rachel’s hand brushes some of Max’s hair back before she draws away too, confident smile unwavering and impressed. Max catches, though, that she doesn’t have any words immediately on hand, no flirt or tease.

The sound of plastic fumbling with a hollow rattle against glass breaks the spell; both Max and Rachel turn to the side table in time to notice Chloe snatch the wine from its hiding place and walk out of the room without so much as a backwards glance.

“Sorry,” Max says, chancing a look at Steph, then Kate; both faintly worried, the former at the tail end of a sigh. “I should…”

Max has no idea what she can or should do, but everything begins with not letting Chloe get away. Rather than finish speaking, she grabs her bag and makes for the door, barely resisting the urge to run. The people behind her can wait; Chloe can’t.

In the painful bright of the hall, Max has the stairs or the dorms ahead of her. The doors are shut tight, neither in the process of closing as if someone just passed through, so she takes the stairs and starts going down… then looks up with a fleeting question in her mind: has Rachel told her about the open rooftop access yet? Max decides on a mental coin flip to trust her gut; she goes upstairs.

Chloe’s longer stride and Max’s hesitation at the stairs leaves her unsure if she went the right way until she pushes through the heavy door at the top of the building into the chilled midnight air. Just to the right of the door sits Chloe, leaning back against the wall with the wine held in her lap as she stares across the concrete. That is, until she glances up at Max and waves the wine in greeting.

“Hey. It’s cold as shit out here.”

Max nods and tentatively sits down next to her, leaving a few inches of space between them. “It is the end of October, but I think it could be worse.”

“I dunno. It’s pretty fucking bad,” Chloe mutters before a sip of wine. She sets the bottle down between them with a clunk and sighs. “What are you doing up here, Max? You wanted to try the stupid partying thing. Don’t let me fuck up a good time.”

“I said I’d escape with you if it sucked,” Max says, staring at her hands as she fidgets with her wristband. “It didn’t suck until just now.”

“Give me a break. I know for a fucking fact that kiss didn’t suck.”

“I’m not talking about that, but… maybe we should talk about that?”

Max bites her lip, hesitant to go on without Chloe’s thoughts first. It takes an excruciatingly long few seconds to get them, or anything really. “Nothing to talk about, right? I dared you. Congrats, you did it,” she says, bitterness coloring her words. “Can’t argue with that.”

It’s not the first time, nor does Max expect it will be the last, that Chloe’s stubborn stonewalling leaves her uncertain and, frankly, annoyed. She’s the one who got up and made a scene whether she meant to or not, now here they are. Max pinches the bridge of her nose and exhales sharply. “Yeah, I mean, it was your idea, but you’re obviously feeling some kind of way about it now. I get it, okay?”

Chloe looks at her with narrowed eyes, plainly doubtful. “Let’s fucking hear it then, Sherlock. Theorize me up.”

“I know you want to get back with Rachel and that she’s being, I dunno, weird about it. Of course it’s shitty to see… that.” Max winces when her finger slips, accidentally snapping her wristband, and rubs at the spot. “I’m not really sure what Rachel’s deal with your relationship is, but I’m not trying to mess with it. Like everything else, that was just a dumb game.”

“Hell of a kiss for just a game,” Chloe says, her voice reserved in a way that makes Max suspicious of her real point. Five years might be a long time, but it’s ultimately a drop in the bucket to how well she knows her. She wasn’t sure if that was the case at first, but despite everything, this is still her best friend — aggravating habits and all.

“I didn’t exactly plan it like that, but that’s where it ends, I swear.”

“Max, this is stupid.” Chloe shakes her head, propping up her knee such that she closes off from Max and looks the other way. “You’re allowed to kiss whoever and however, we’re all goddamn adults here. Like you said, Rach and I aren’t a thing, so just forget it. I don’t care.”

Max scoffs. “Bullshit. You’ve been acting off all week.”

“Uh, it’s called PMS. You know how it is.” Chloe rests her arm on her knee and dismisses all other notions with a flap of her hand. “Give it time, you’ll get my sunny fucking attitude back.”

“No, screw that,” Max says, unthinking; Chloe’s hand freezes, but she obviously rolls her eyes.

“Save it. I’m too buzzed for a lecture. If that’s what I wanted, I’d go home and wave that bottle around in front of step-fuck.”

Max’s eyes get drawn to the wine when Chloe mentions it, and a truly batshit idea comes to mind. She grabs the bottle and says, “I guess I’ll catch up then.”

“What the hell are y—” Chloe starts, her curiosity getting the better of her as she looks over her shoulder just in time to see Max down a large gulp of wine and instantly recoil, her face screwing up against the dry, bittersweet taste. A sense of floatiness rises quickly to her head and she coughs, setting it back down. Chloe’s irritation has all but vanished in favor of wide eyes and open disbelief. “Max, holy shit! You didn’t have to — what the fuck?”

“I… should’ve just sipped,” Max says, leaning her head back on the wall in hopes the weird dizziness passes. It does, slowly, leaving a much more comfortable humming warmth behind. “This is supposed to be good?”

Chloe laughs, still watching. “It came from the Ambers, so yeah, it’s the good shit. Most alcohol sucks ass the first few times.” She reaches over and rests her hand on Max’s shoulder, peering closer with a scrutinizing squint as she adds, “I don’t get the stuff some weirdos say about wine, with all the ‘notes of old-ass tree bark dipped in grape juice’ or whatever. I do know you’re not supposed to fucking slam it like a frat bro on a Thursday night after finals week.”

“I kinda guessed when my head felt like it sprinted down a Silent Hill block.”

“’Kay, well, that’s a little dramatic.”

“Shut up, I mean the foggy sort of… you’ve been drunk, I don’t need to do this.”

“I’d argue you didn’t need to do any of it, but it’s too late for that,” Chloe says, pulling her hand back to pick up the bottle and put it on her other side. “Shit. Let it settle before you do that again.”

Max makes a noise of distaste. “I don’t think I will.”

“Suit yourself.” Chloe returns to her original position but keeps her eyes on Max, brows furrowed. “So… why did you go all frat house on me?”

“I was… I don’t know, it was stupid,” Max sighs, her hand lifting to rub at her face before she remembers the stage makeup and rubs her temple instead. “You were just giving me all these excuses, and…” She trails off, finding it impossible to explain given she doesn’t know the whole answer herself. In lieu of that, she quietly pleads, “Can’t you just talk to me, Chloe?”

“Max, it’s — it’s really not that serious,” Chloe says, features softened and a rueful half-smile on her lips. “I’ll get over it.”

“What if I can help?”

“It’s not really a help-able kind of thing. It’s more like it’s my problem, and I’d rather not make it our problem, get it?” Max stares at her, unimpressed, until she rubs at the back of her neck and continues, “When we were growing up, it was us against the world, right? Sure, we had other friends, but it wasn’t the same. Now… shit’s different. I’m not a nine-year-old telling Dad I don’t want a birthday party with a bunch of kids from school, I just want Max and an ice cream cake.”

Max laughs softly. “Can we still get that ice cream cake, though? That sounds so good right now.”

“Say the word when it’s not midnight and we’ll drive ‘til we find the best fucking ice cream cake on the Pacific coast. Anyway, I just missed my best friend and being a kid with her, but I only get one and I don’t wanna fuck that up.”

“I don’t want to fuck it up either, you know,” Max says.

“Oh, I know. I still can’t fucking believe you just — went for it, the pact, I mean. You really meant that shit.” Chloe looks up at the clear autumn sky, its faint stars. Her tone is just on the side of too casual when she asks, “So who kissed better?”

“I— Chloe!”

“The people deserve to know! Specifically me, your best friend.”

Max shoves at Chloe’s arm and groans, cheeks warm. As much as what Chloe said feels like an honest answer… it feels incomplete, something not quite clicking, and maybe it’s the wine or the autumn air emboldening her to press onward when she could easily let it slide, but she wants to make sure nothing’s being held back that might rear its head all over again later. “You got your dare, now it’s my turn.”

“Dammit. I was hoping you’d forget.”

“I thought you were an open book?”

“Yeah, but… just give it. Ask your question,” Chloe says, avoiding Max’s gaze. The sound of her nails tapping lightly on the wine bottle becomes quick and noticeable.

Aware that Chloe will do her best to verbally circumnavigate all over again, Max thinks carefully on the question itself. It has to be as direct as possible, there’s no doubt about that. She could just… say it, the thing she has hardly dared to consider because it’s so unbelievable. The lightweight calm in her chest instead of hand-wringing nerves at that idea is definitely the wine, and Max chooses to let the feeling lead. “Okay, this… you have to swear not to make fun of me if I’m totally off-base.”

“Whoa, that important?”

“I mean it. If it’s a stupid question let’s pretend it never happened. I just have to know.”

“Sure, only, I dunno if you want to be wearing cute little ears while we get into real shit.” Max starts reaching up to take them off, but she pauses and decides against it. It’s not like she’s going to take off all the makeup too; might as well keep the whole package together, and maybe it’ll even help somehow.

She adjusts herself into a kneeling position, turned to face Chloe, who quietly and apprehensively waits. “Chloe, do you…” Some of Max’s nerve flees at the eleventh hour, a single draught of wine apparently not enough. “…have feelings for someone other than Rachel?”

“Oh. Uh…” Chloe picks at some of the blue polish on her nails, staring resolutely at that small habit, and shrugs. “Fuck it, yeah, I do. I’m not expecting anything, it’s just feelings. They’ll pass.”

“Well, why not tell them?” Max asks, fingers flexing nervously where her hands rest on her legs. “I know the game’s done, but…”

“It’s the most mind-numbingly cliché shit, but: it’s complicated,” Chloe says with a breath of laughter. “At least I know how me ‘n Rach roll. With this other person, it’s like… fuck,” she murmurs, closing her eyes and motioning vaguely in a way Max can’t interpret. Finally, she echoes herself, words heavy with anxious implication: “I don’t wanna fuck it up.”

Max takes it in, that tacit admission left just ambiguous enough for it to be taken back without contradiction. It’s for that reason — the fear she understands as well as a mirror’s reflection — that Max doesn’t seek clarification. Instead she inches closer and sits against Chloe’s side, shoulder-to-shoulder, and rests her head there.

“Neither do I,” she says, almost lost to the sea breeze for how soft it is. Chloe’s eyes slowly blink open and she looks down at Max, a small measure of tension draining away from her posture.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Chloe puts her arm around Max and takes a deep breath, then a drink. “You were being hella suspicious at Truth or Dare. What was that really all about?”

“Can’t ‘tell me later’ mean, like, twenty years from now?” Max sulks, knowing the answer without having to look at Chloe’s unconvinced expression. “It was about, um, crush stuff. Steph thinks I like Rachel and she was worried her revenge for that shot made things weird.”

Silence settles for a few contemplative seconds until Chloe speaks up, confused. “Why would it matter if it was you and Rachel? It was my dumb ultimatum.”

“I… I don’t know,” Max says. It’s a fair point that Max hadn’t considered in her inward panic.

“And another thing: is she wrong?”

“She… was?”

Chloe snorts softly. “You don’t get to be shy now, Max, not after that show downstairs.”

“Well, it’s true,” Max huffs, indignant and blushing all over again. “I didn’t when we first talked about it, not in that way. She assumed and I let it happen.”

“Okay, and then Rachel Dawn Amber charmed the pants right off you?” Chloe snickers when Max lightly smacks her leg. “Hey, stop that — we’re both grade-A suckers here. This is a support group now and we’re meeting on the roof at midnight every other week.”

“All I’ll say is it’s been a truly bizarro day,” Max says, her fingers toying idly with the loose thread of a patch on Chloe’s jeans. “I don’t know what to do about any of it that won’t make drama, except nothing.”

Chloe hums in sympathy and half-jokingly wiggles the bottle with her free hand. “We could drink about it.”

“Oh, like well-adjusted adults?”

“Totally.”

Max has the urge to tease some more, but she watches the bottle swing back and forth, then reaches out to it. Chloe hands it over without hesitation and Max braces herself before taking a much more reasonable sip. She’s not any more used to the taste, but at least it doesn’t come with an instant right-hook this time. She hands it back and, as Chloe drinks, Max lightheartedly says, “Speaking of that ultimatum, I understand if you’d choose Rachel.”

The bottle sounds a delicate glass clink on the concrete, empty. Chloe shakes her head. “I gave my honest fucking answer, dude. Gun to my head, I’d rather kick the guy holding the gun in the balls and take my chances.”

“I hate that I can see you trying that kind of reckless insanity,” Max sighs, though she can’t contain a small smile.

“It’s Rachel. It’s you,” Chloe says, like it’s the most natural, obvious thing in the universe. “Anyone who thinks they can make me lose somebody else that matters as much as you can eat shit and die. Nothing against Kate, she’s great, but that includes the big man himself if it comes to it.”

“Let’s try to avoid confrontations like that,” Max murmurs. She tucks herself more closely against Chloe’s side, arm settling loose across her. “But… same.” The autumn breeze doesn’t bite quite so hard anymore, and Max wants nothing more than to stay here, relaxed and content in spite of everything. “Can we not go back? It was surprisingly fun, honest, but I’m all partied out.”

Chloe’s rubs her side reassuringly, the other hand reaching into her pocket for her phone. “No sweat. I’ll let Rach and Steph know so they don’t try to hunt our party-ditching asses down.”

Max closes her eyes, hazy and warm, while Chloe taps out her message. They’ll almost definitely have to explain themselves to their friends later, somehow, but that prospect doesn’t weigh so heavily on her heart right now. For all that she doesn’t know what tomorrow will bring, tonight they’re under the real stars, with real feelings out in the open rather than the vague impressions of them. That they’re in agreement that the most important thing is holding on to each other, however complicated — that might just be all that Max needs.

Chapter Text

Morning hurts. More accurately, Max’s alarm hurts, cutting through fuzzy dreams with a gunshot vengeance. Her unhelpful first instinct is to curl up into her blanket and bury her face in her pillow, as if that’ll block it out. And for one baffling moment, it seems like it works — the alarm beeps a few more times, then quiets into silence. Max, prepared to accept that divine intervention is real if it means she can keep her eyes shut a while longer, gets her peace gently shaken by the dip of weight at the edge of the mattress.

“Ugh. Your alarm’s a bitch, you know that?”

Max exhales softly and begrudgingly opens one eye, a few blinks needed to turn bleary colors into the image of Chloe rubbing at her temple with a pained face, her hair a bedheaded mess. She catches Max looking and smiles faintly.

“Morning, Bambi.”

“It’s not right that you’re out of bed before me,” Max mumbles, her hands going to her cheeks to check for leftover makeup there even though she knows she washed her face clean last night. “Was the couch okay?”

Chloe leans back on her arm and shrugs the other shoulder. “Better than the floor. Not as cozy as the bed.”

“Well, maybe a few sips of wine shouldn’t have made me feel like trying to squeeze in together would make me melt from the heat.”

“You drank it, girl, the wine doesn’t have free will. But, uh… how do you feel?”

“Mostly fine. Just achy and kinda foggy. You?” The only response is a low groan. Max slowly sits up, reaching blindly for her phone on the nightstand only to have Chloe place it in her hand. Unfazed, she checks the time — almost eleven, and she has unread messages. “Shit. When’re we supposed to meet up with Steph?”

“I dunno, dude,” Chloe says through a yawn. “Depends how fucked up she got ‘n where she landed for the night.” She notices the telltale taps of Max opening the texts on her phone and adds, “Ask her if she got laid.”

“Yeah, that’s what I wanna ask someone first thing in the morning,” Max mutters distractedly, too focused on reading to care about Chloe’s eye roll. To her relief, Steph’s message came in only fifteen minutes ago.

Steph: scale of 1-10 what are the odds you can get C to pick up game snacks for us

Even while she’s responding, Max asks, “How much will it suck to drive?”

Max: Checking now. But why not text her?

“The hell does she want so bad I have to drive with a hangover?” Chloe says, a whine in her voice.

Steph: I’m testing a theory

“Um, snacks?” Max says, not really meaning to turn it into a question — she just has no idea what Steph’s doing. But having something to eat does sound like a good idea, so she looks imploringly up at Chloe. “I bet it’ll help us all feel better…”

Chloe’s eyes narrow at her and her lips purse. Approximately a second and a half later, Max gets an entire palm held up to her face, squishing her nose in just a little. She blinks and leans back, her reaction slightly delayed, but Chloe’s hand follows her. “No, nope, don’t look at me like that. Let me think.”

Max scoffs, trying to lean in different directions to get her sightline of Chloe back to no avail. “Like what?”

“Like some fuckin’… I dunno, just give me a sec,” Chloe sighs, giving up the war of attrition more easily than she usually would. As she rubs at her face, she mutters under her breath, “Can’t believe I’m the only bitch here who drives.”

“The only one with a vehicle, anyway,” Max says. “I’d offer to go instead, but, uh…”

“Yeah, yeah. No way in hell you learned stick.”

“I could come with you.”

Chloe considers it and shrugs. “Nah. If I’m gonna do it I might as well go solo and crank up the radio.”

Though unsure that loud music is a great solution to a hangover, Max decides it’s not her headache to bear and holds up her phone, says, “So is that a yes to snacks?”

Narrowing her eyes, Chloe gives the screen a jab with her finger. The outgoing ring quietly begins and Max turns her phone around, startled to find that she’d left Steph’s message open and therefore the call button. She’s more relieved than annoyed that Chloe couldn’t resist it considering all the secret character planning and crush-teasing that lives in these messages just a scroll or two up. As Max turns on the speaker with a resigned shake of her head, Steph answers.

“Max?” Steph speaks in a whisper, somewhat muffled. “I’m not really in a position to… what’s up?”

Chloe snorts and raises her voice. “Oh, yeah? What position are we talking?” She winces at her own volume but hardly seems to regret it otherwise.

“Oh, for fuck’s — hang on.” Rustling blankets come through the speaker, as does a voice that’s too soft and distant for Max to identify. When Steph speaks again, she’s still whispering but clearer. “Why are you so fucking loud? And why are you on Max’s phone?”

“I’m here, too,” Max says, sheepish. “We were discussing food.”

“And? Chloe, seriously, you’re gonna lose your mind if there isn’t something to eat.”

“Well—” Chloe pauses, her jaw working with the obvious dilemma of knowing Steph’s right but being too stubborn to admit it, and therefore too stubborn to agree despite nearly doing just that barely fifteen seconds ago.

Max watches her for a moment and groans, making sure her phone is tilted for Steph to hear perfectly when she says, “Steph stayed a whole extra day for us. In Arcadia Bay. If you’re not gonna drive, then I’ll… uh…” She glances at her phone as if Steph can help her. “I’ll walk to that weird convenience store no one ever goes to and only get stuff you hate.”

“You’re bluffing,” Chloe says, defensive. “That’d take over a whole fuckin’ hour.”

“Am I?”

“And you wouldn’t make me suffer a hangover with nothing but Twizzlers or whatever.”

Max leans back against her pillows. “The power to change your fate is in your hands, Keymaster, not mine.”

“Hell yeah, dude,” Steph chimes in softly.

Chloe slowly drops back with a relenting sigh, her head landing gently in Max’s lap. “Jeez, fine. But I’m collecting cash from you guys and Rach on the way out, no way I’ve got enough with me for the good shit. I’m not driving outta here like this just for chips and dip.”

“Deal,” Max says, ruffling her hand through Chloe’s hair and grinning at the way her nose wrinkles. Her hair has always been soft, but now that it’s also short, it’s way more tempting to mess with it just like Chloe does hers. “It’s only fair to split the tab.”

“When I’d rather hog your bed for another couple hours of sleep, yeah, it is.”

“Okay,” Steph says, audibly amused. “If that’s settled, it’s time for me to prep. We’ll start once everyone shows up at the table.”

Chloe looks up at the phone with faint suspicion. “You mean you don’t have an exact time down to the millisecond?”

“Wow, what an original joke. I’ll never recover,” Steph deadpans, though her voice quickly grows more distracted. “See you, Max.”

Chloe mutters under her breath, “’And thanks for being my little delivery bitch, Chloe.’”

Max starts to say her farewell, but someone else comes through the speaker first, distant until she isn’t. “Is that Max? Hi, Max!”

“Uh— hey, Dana,” she says, brows lifting. On second thought, though, that’s not as surprising as it could have been. “Sounds like you’re feeling better than us. Um, Steph, talk to you—” The line disconnects. “—later.”

“Cool, that answers my questions,” Chloe says, idly staring up at the ceiling. “She’s been warned so she can’t get pissed when I drop in for the money.”

“You could knock,” Max suggests, shifting her legs in vain hope that it’s enough to get Chloe to move. It is not.

“Dana’s chill with me, she won’t mind.”

“I don’t think I understand that level of ‘chill’ but, sure, if you say so.” She puts a little more effort into moving her legs, which draws a wordless side-eye. “Don’t you wanna get the drive over with? Or, like… your own clothes on?”

“You personally handed me this cavity-inducing shirt,” Chloe says, pulling the fabric on it as she looks down at the round and cartoonish sheet ghost declaring BOO, SHEET! “At least it’s seasonal.”

“You know how much my mom likes buying me cutesy things like that. I’d feel bad getting rid of them, so… pajama shirts it is.”

Chloe laughs. “Aw, c’mon, you like this shit too. You could totally get rid of them if you really wanted to.”

Max gives a good-natured shake of her head and turns her attention back to her phone, checking if there are any other updates she needs to catch up on since Chloe seems determined not to be in a hurry. There’s a series of earlier messages from Rachel, and her name alone brings to mind what happened last night — which still feels a bit like a dream if not for the aftermath.

Rachel: Thanks for the ride ♥️ shame it had to end but it’s for the best. In another life…

Rachel: ugh lol I must be hella drunk if this is what I’m doing at 3am. texting the cute girl down the hall whos spending the night with my ex

Rachel: okay well ex feels wrong to say. By definition yes, but who fucking knows

Rachel: I don’t think you realize how much you’ve changed by turning up, I keep trying to tell you. Sometimes you need a storm to find the cracks. or some shit like that. that’s a compliment

Rachel: so much a compliment that I’ll be nice about you two stealing the communal bottle 😘 missed you after but I bet you needed to talk. I hope you did.

“Jesus, Rachel,” Max murmurs without thinking, brows furrowed as she takes in the late-night bombardment she’d missed. She can’t quite put together what point Rachel was trying to make, but then again, she was drunk. Maybe she didn’t even know herself.

Chloe, who’d closed her eyes when Max went quiet, blinks one open at the remark. “Didja get nudes?”

“I-I— Chloe, in what universe—” Max stops when she notices the look of a poorly-contained snicker and lightly bonks her phone on Chloe’s forehead, ignoring the soft ow that results. “Asshole. It’s just some texts.”

“Shit, drunk texts from Rachel could be fucking anything. She gains like three bonus personas under the influence.” Chloe says, rubbing unnecessarily at the spot where she was oh-so-gently tapped as if it was some huge whack. “What’s the deal this time, is she…”

Chloe trails off uncertainly as Max reflexively brings her phone closer to her chest. “I don’t think I should…”

“Yeah. Yeah, ‘course, no problem.” Chloe heaves a breath and sits up, gives herself a moment to recalibrate to being upright before getting back on her feet. “No fuckin’ problem,” she mutters again, looking around Max’s room and locating her belongings thrown haphazardly at one end of the couch. “Anyway, maybe you’re right, the sooner there’s food the better.”

The urge to reassure her rears its head, but Max can’t find the words for it that won’t trip a sensitive wire. It’s possible she’s being overly cautious but, if nothing else, Chloe will probably be in a more receptive mood when she’s had something to eat and loses the hangover. Not to mention… even Max isn’t yet sure what to make of last night and what it means for the future. If anything. There’d been something hopeful about it, but the clarity of morning somehow clouds it over.

Max closes the messages — she can only prioritize one weird set of feelings at a time — and reaches down the side of the bed to where she’d left her bag resting up against the nightstand. From inside, she digs out ten bucks and holds the bill out. “This is all I have right now, is that okay?”

Chloe looks over, half-dressed. She takes it and folds it into her pocket before tugging Steph’s shirt back on. “Should be fine. Rachel’s loaded enough to make up for it if we’re short.” She catches Max’s glance at the shirt and adds, “I’ve got backup clothes in the truck, Max, I’m not wearing last night’s nerd cosplay all day.”

“Where did Steph’s sword even go?”

“Fuck if I know. She’s not busting the door down to kick my ass, though, so I’m just gonna assume she’s got it. Shit, do you see my phone anywhere?”

Max looks under her blanket, despite there being no reason for it to be there. She tries to think back to last night as Chloe searches under the couch, muttering under her breath. Chloe had texted the others on the roof… they stayed up there a little while longer, but Max vaguely recalls Chloe putting it back in her pocket, so it couldn’t have been left behind. Then there’d been the walk back down to the dorms, high-spirited and laughing over nothing in particular. Then Max remembers.

“Wait, I’ve got it.” She gets out of bed and goes straight to her desk, where William’s camera and a few new photos rest alongside none other than Chloe’s phone. Picking it up, she tosses it gently to its owner once she’s straightened up enough to catch it. “You gave it to me so it wouldn’t fall out of your pocket doing… this stupid stunt.”

Max holds up one of the photos, in which Chloe hangs backwards over the railing at the top landing in the stairwell and looks upside-down at the camera held on a landing below it, tongue sticking out and a double set of horns made with her hands. Only her bent knees keep her from what could have been a nasty fall.

“Oh, yeah! That’s a sick shot. You should save that for a competition or something, they have those, right?” Chloe says, giving the photo a proud and appreciative nod before checking her phone. “Blanket permission to use my face to win awards and shit.”

“That’s a lot of power. Sure about that?”

“If it means you get all the props you deserve, fuck yeah. You’ve got hella talent and if it takes my irresistible charm to make ‘em pay attention, that’s just what best friends are for.” Chloe flashes a quick grin, but her attention is visibly divided. “But, uh, you’ve probably got a better shot with Rachel.”

Max leans back against the desk, arms folding around her middle. “Did you make that pun on purpose?”

“I get why you might be confused but I’m not actually Steph. I can do a better joke than that. Don’t make that face,” Chloe mutters; she’s not even looking at Max, yet she’s not wrong about the sincere expression of doubt at her claim. Whatever she’s reading on her phone, it brings a furrow to her brow. Max holds her breath as if that’ll guarantee that she gets to know what’s on her mind, but the effort turns up unsurprisingly futile when Chloe sighs and says, “Time to bully lunch money out of our friends. Any requests?”

“Surprise me,” Max says with a shrug and a small smile. “You’re way more hungover than I am so I say get whatever you want.”

“Aw, you really do love me.”

With that, Chloe makes for the door and opens it, turning back to give Max a half-smile and a tired salute before stepping out. Max exhales softly when the door clicks shut and rubs between her eyes.

Dark clouds and waves clash in the design of the screen in front of Max, reflecting what the vista far behind her threatens to become — though it remains comfortably cool and dry for now, the sky merely that dreary shade that everyone in the region has long grown accustomed to. When it comes to rain, it’s not a matter of if so much as when, yet they’ve still decided to at least start the game outside at Steph’s formerly-usual table for the sake of tradition.

“So, uh…” Steph clears her throat, which jolts Max back to attention. “I’ll ask again: where will they find you?”

“Sorry,” Max says sheepishly, eyes dropping to the little mini figure that Steph brought for her, stood atop a sketched-out map of a seaside town with a few landmarks picked out. Her character is the only one in sight, which is true of the table, too; Rachel and Chloe haven’t turned up yet. “Um, I think… the tavern. Just, you know, scoping out the people… looking for inspiration…”

“Got it, you’re at the Crow’s Nest. And you’re still—” Max nods and Steph grins, plucking the figure off the map to hide it behind the screen. “No one’s batting an eye, which means you’re definitely not the only one in this neighborhood. In fact, you’re offered a place at the bar and a free dish of the morning’s catch.”

“Oh, wow. That’s nice of them.”

“It’s small-town nice, you know how it is,” Steph says with a roll of her eyes. “You’re pretty harmless right now, not too weird for the locals, not starting shit. You know that won’t last, but your girl has no fucking clue. I’d feel bad, but hey, maybe she needs the shake-up.”

“Not like she gets a choice,” Max says, smiling despite her nerves.

Steph lets out a laugh. “Yup, she’s gonna bond with the hooligans or else. Speaking of the hooligans, where the hell are they?”

As Steph checks her phone, Max rests her chin on her hand and traces some of the lines on the map with her finger. There’s something nostalgic about it; even though it’s not Arcadia Bay, it reminds her of treasure maps scrawled on elementary school notebook paper, the landmarks and labels for which only two kids with wired imaginations could understand the full significance. Is the tree fort still there? Or has it finally been torn down, the almost-for-sure-dangerous old structure they found in the woods and claimed as their own? Has Chloe shown it to Rachel, or is it still their secret?

“Fucking finally,” Steph mutters, oblivious to Max’s speculation as she gets up and gestures for the late arrivals to hurry up. Max turns, looking pool-ward, to see Chloe — freshly showered and changed, a bag of takeout in hand — and Rachel, who’d apparently gone on the trip beyond Blackwell with her. So much for Chloe’s solo radio-blasting time, but maybe it’s better she was deterred from blowing out her eardrums. Max can’t help but wish that she’d known they were meeting up, feeling a twinge of hurt that she has in no way earned.

Chloe jogs ahead of Rachel to place the bag down on the table with a thump, familiar scents wafting from it. It’s enough to chase the weirdness from Max’s chest with excitement instead as she says, “You went to Two Whales?”

“Nothing’s better for feeling like shit than diner brunch,” Chloe says, unpacking the bag and doling out the boxes while Rachel leisurely catches up, pausing to chat with an unfamiliar student on the way. “Pancakes for Max, ‘cause I can’t believe you still haven’t had the best pancakes in the Bay since coming back.”

“That’s not true, Joyce’s pancakes are the best,” Max says, taking the box and plastic utensils. “And before you say anything, I know it’s the same recipe, she just does it better at home.”

“The second-best then, and no complaining. And for Steph, biscuits ‘n gravy. Your favorite, right?”

Steph raises a brow as the box is pushed her way and she peeks inside. “I didn’t think you remembered… is this a bribe? After all the bullshit you’ve pulled this week?”

“I would never, Stephanie,” Chloe says, overly aghast. “Haven’t you ever heard of doing nice things for your friends?”

“Oh, like rescheduling a trip back to Seattle to run a last-minute tabletop game? I wouldn’t know.” Steph grins at Chloe’s middle finger, her features softening a moment later with sincerity. “In all seriousness, thanks. I was expecting snacks, not a whole-ass meal.”

Rachel arrives as Chloe shrugs, rubs the back of her neck and says, “Hey, no big deal. I get an omelette deluxe out of it.”

“And this must be my bagel,” Rachel says, plucking the last box from the bag and taking a seat to Max’s right. She eyes the map and smiles as Chloe clears the bag out of the way and takes up Max’s left. “Have you already started?”

“Sort of,” Steph says, giving Max a knowing wink. “You’re fashionably late, but… honestly, that’s pretty in-character so I’ll let it slide. Are we all ready? If you spill on my beautiful map you take psychic damage,” she adds, pointing a plastic fork between the three of them. Chloe pointedly slides her box of omelette half an inch closer to the map, which Steph makes the conscious, visible choice to ignore.

“Give us your tale, storyteller,” Rachel says, chin in hand. Max nods in agreement, her mouth too full of pancake to commit verbally.

Steph takes two figures from behind the screen and places them in front of Chloe and Rachel; respectively, one with armor and horns, the other in a dramatic pose with long red hair. “Welcome to the Piers of Avalon, a place that doesn’t really live up to the nobility of its name once you come over the hill and see it for the first time. The sunrise view of the ocean, especially with the Hartpoint Lighthouse standing watch here, is breathtaking — but the town isn’t exactly huge or even busy. It’s quiet and easygoing, mostly. Maybe that’s a relief considering you’ve just come from a city where you saved the councilwoman and her lover, sure, but…”

“Hey, it wasn’t our fault that dickhead set a whole market on fire,” Chloe says, muffled by omelette.

Rachel glances across Max to her and smiles, tucking her hair back behind one ear as she puts on a lightly accented voice. “Two weeks and you’re still going on about that? We did what we needed to do and no one got hurt.”

Chloe catches on to the shift and rolls her eyes. “Okay, princess, let’s just forget about my fucking third-degree burns I guess.”

“You healed those, unless you left one spot to develop a scar just to make this point.”

“So what if I healed them? They still happened!”

Steph cuts in. “As you’re, uh, bickering in the street at like six in the morning, a guy in a nightcap opens a second-story window and shouts, ‘Take it to the Nest or shut up!’”

Chloe rises slightly out of her seat and says, “’You shut up, old man!’ And I hold up my weapon like this.” She mimes holding a long weapon, maybe a spear or something if Max had to guess, in a threatening manner.

“He’s too far away for you hear what he grumbles about, but he’s probably swearing about kids-these-days or whatever. Just goes back inside and slams the window shut. You,” Steph says, turning to Rachel, “aren’t antagonizing the elderly at dawn, so you notice there’s a sign down the street for a place called the Crow’s Nest. It’s the busiest part of town you’ve seen so far, anglers and sailors and other early risers going in and out.”

Max leans back in time for Rachel to reach across the front and smack Chloe’s arm, pointing with the other hand towards the imaginary tavern. “I’d bet we’ll find something more interesting in there.” Her gaze flicks to Max for just a moment, the corner of her mouth pulling up in a barely-there smirk. “Maybe even fun.”

Chloe sighs and gestures outward. “Lead the way, my lady.”

“Ooh, that’s new,” Rachel says, withdrawing back to her own personal space. “But… not very sincere?”

“You gotta wait ‘til afternoon for the real shit, sorry. It’s early as balls.”

Rachel laughs. “Now that’s familiar.” She gives her attention back to Steph. “To the Crow’s Nest then, GM.”

“Sweet. You walk in and figure out pretty quick that it’s your classic inn-and-tavern situation. There’s a bar, tables, bulletin board, the works. There’s even a raised stage up against one of the walls — obviously there’s no one playing music at six in the morning but maybe come back later and you’ll hear a bard or two. Maybe ten or so people in here, a mix of humans, dwarves, seafolk for the most part… and a tabby cat on the counter with a plate of fish.”

Chloe lights up. “Fuck all these other losers, I’m gonna pet the cat.”

“Yeah?” Steph says, amused. “Give me a roll... let’s just use charisma. And while you’re at it, describe yourself ‘cause Max’s character is in here seeing all of this.”

Rachel raises a brow but keeps quiet as Chloe grabs the die and rolls it around in her hand, looking at Max with a grin. “So you’re seeing the hottest devil you’ve ever seen—”

“Not a devil,” Steph interjects, long-suffering.

“Yeah, yeah. Close enough. She’s blue, she’s got cool twisty horns and a spiky tail, and she’s jacked. Uh…” Chloe squints at the figure on the table. “Oh yeah, she’s all armored up and she’s got a trident for stabbin’.”

“And what’s she doing to get on this cat’s good side?”

“C’mon, you know.” Steph gives her an unimpressed look. “The way anyone would. I’m going pspsps and holding my hand out.” After a brief pause, Chloe adds, “And I’m saying, ‘hey there kitty, I’m Indy.’”

“As in Indiana Jones?” Max asks as the die finally rolls onto the table, unable to withhold the question.

“Nah, as in indium. I dunno dude, I just looked at a periodic table and picked one,” Chloe says, grimacing at the four that comes up. “Shit. My good looks can’t save that.”

“It’s a cat,” Rachel says, arms folding on the table. “Why would a cat care about your good looks? Unless…”

Steph hurriedly holds up a finger. “We’ll get to that, and the roll, in a sec. What are you up to while she’s bothering this cat?”

Rachel shrugs. “I’m right there with her, but I’m waiting to see what happens. This cat’s got a plate all to herself, so she must be special.”

“Hold up then, you’re with me so I actually say ‘I’m Indy, and this is Pyrrha.’” Chloe narrows her eyes. “Wait, ’she?’”

“Anyway, for Max’s benefit — you’re looking at a beautiful woman. In-character, I mean,” Rachel says, playful. “Flame-red tresses in a long braid, earrings with orange feathers that give off light, and golden eyes. A little bit of a point in the ears. I’d say it’s also a little hotter now I’m here, and I don’t mean my good looks, which might be better than hers.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Mm, you’re right. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, after all,” Rachel admits, turning a discerning gaze on Max. “And you’re beholding us pretty damn close, aren’t you?”

“Uh…” Max looks to Steph, who nods encouragingly. With one more glance at the four sitting on the table, Max turns to Chloe and opens her mouth to describe what happens… before a much more tempting idea comes to mind. She grins and lightly smacks Chloe on the cheek, watching her eyes widen in confusion. “You came on a little strong, so… I do that.”

“You’re a fucking cat?!” Chloe says; Max recoils at the volume shooting up to eleven, laughing along with Steph, and the flutter of a startled bird’s wings catch her ear. “That’s your big fucking secret, that you’re a goddamn Puss-in-Boots-ass motherfucker?”

“Not all the time,” Max says, catching her breath while Steph keeps snickering behind the screen. Chloe only looks more bewildered, a furrow in her brow as she gestures wildly for an explanation.

“Dude, that couldn’t have gone more perfectly. Holy shit,” Steph says. “I think every fisherman down in the bay heard that.”

“And every squirrel in a thirty-mile radius just lost its nuts,” Rachel adds.

“Fucking — I step back ‘cause this cat just slapped me. ‘What did I do?’”

Max holds her palm up in Steph’s direction and, luckily, the cue is received — the mini that had been hidden away is placed in her hand. “I’ll, um, jump off the bar and turn back into a person. Human. I guess kinda normal-looking compared to you guys? Brown hair, freckles… big dark green, like, hooded cloak,” Max says, unsure but charging forth as she clears her throat. “’Hi, uh, sorry about that. But you scared me a little. I’m, you can call me May.’”

“Max—” Chloe starts.

“I know it sounds like I just did my name but a little different, but I swear that’s not… I just kinda flipped around a photographer’s name. Vivian Maier? A documentary just came out at some film festival but it’s not releasing officially until next year…”

“No, not that, that’s cool and I wanna hear about her later. I was gonna ask, like… werecat?”

“Are you asking or Indy?” Steph says.

Chloe considers the question and says, simply, “Yeah.”

“Oh.” Max fidgets with the figure and sets it down when she suddenly imagines accidentally breaking it. “I-It’s magic. Druid stuff?”

“Awesome.” It’s hard to tell whether it’s in or out of character, but Max decides that both is once again the likeliest answer. Chloe pushes her figure closer to Max’s and continues, more clearly in-character, “’So wait, you mean May Vivian?’”

Steph mouths what? over the screen and Max shrugs helplessly. Chloe leans to catch Rachel’s eye and motions excitedly to Max.

“’You’re not gonna believe this, but I practically grew up with this… not-cat! I haven’t seen her in years! Where the hell have you been, huh?’” she asks Max, a familiar just-go-with-it glimmer in her eye. “’You fuckin’ disappeared on me.’”

Max shakes her head, exasperated, but says, “’The pressure was getting to me, um, I should’ve told you though. It’s really good to see you again.’”

Steph exhales and leans back. “Alright, fuck it, that’s a thing now. Yeah, you haven’t heard much about each other in a hot minute, but May, you would’ve picked up rumors about a blue lady with horns going around with a runaway royal. Not a whole lot of either of those in this universe. Indy, you haven’t heard a goddamn peep about what this girl’s been up to.”

“Aw, c’mon, really?”

“Everything you do is loud, messy, or both. May can be a bug if she wants, notoriously overlookable. Anyway,” Steph says firmly, “before you can really get this reunion rolling, one of the other patrons comes up and taps Pyrrha on the shoulder. ‘Excuse me, miss, but you and your friends look quite capable… could I ask for a moment of your time?’”

Rachel’s head cocks in interest, her focus narrowing in on Steph. “Is he hot?”

Steph rolls her eyes and nods. “Not my area of expertise, but yeah. He’s got that rugged middle-aged look, bit of grey coming in, a nicely trimmed beard. Two little horns, way smaller than Indy’s over there but he’s probably got a similar flavor of lineage.”

“Then I’m listening. ‘What can we do for you, kind sir?’”

Chloe leans in to whisper to Max, “I’d make this a fucking drinking game if I could.” When Max provides only bemusement in response, she adds, “She flirts with everyone when we play. I think she does it to mess with Steph.”

“’I apologize for my companion’s rudeness,’” Rachel says a little louder, looking askance at Chloe, who makes a face and sticks out her tongue.

“Whatever. I’m gonna say it right here, out of character, I don’t trust this guy,” she says, transparently contrarian considering the man has said all of one sentence. “But sure, let’s hear him out. If we don’t I think Steph will kill me.”

Steph scoffs. “Nah, dude. If you try to avoid the plot it’ll just come for you a different way. That’s how this works. Now…”

Max leans in to listen, watching as Steph places another figure down that resembles her description just enough to be believable. She’d wonder just how many of these Steph has squirreled away, but the scene proceeds and she finds herself hooked.

The strange man introduces himself as Sir Godfrey, to which a grizzled dwarf down the bar laughs and adds that Godfrey’s something of a local hero. Born and raised here on this coast, he ventured away like many do to seek his fame and fortune. However, unlike most, he returned with tales and wisdom of his heroic adventures, and now leads Avalon as mayor. Sir Godfrey plays it off with a humble smile.

”It was the least I could do to ensure the success of a deserving community. That is, in spite of certain… difficult individuals. But I didn’t approach to talk to you three about that — the talents of people with great potential are needed.”

Indy scoffs. “From what that guy’s saying, you sound like you’ve got all the ‘potential’ you need. Why us?”

”So much for hearing him out,” Pyrrha sighs. She gives her new friend a curious look. “Any chance you know how to get her to sit still?”

May hesitates to answer; Indy groans first. “Just because she’s in the fuckin’ middle — I’m listening, okay? I’ve got open ears, I just can’t promise a shut mouth. Got it?” She glares over May’s head at Pyrrha, who shrugs.

”Go on then, Sir Godfrey.”

”Thank you,” he says, having stood patiently with clasped hands. “A terrible series of events has crossed our quiet town as of late. Children, vanishing off the streets, from their homes. Three in just the past year, in fact. I’ve done all I can to search for them but I’ve shamefully come up empty-handed. It doesn’t help that leadership duties need attention as well, and matters like land ownership which ought to be straightforward are tied up in arguments on the council.”

”S-so… you want us to look for these kids?” May asks, after a brief uncertain look at Indy who motions for her to speak up. “If it’s been a long time, the trail might have…”

”I understand,” Sir Godfrey says. “Yes, it may be too late for some, but answers are still needed for the families. The most recent disappearance was only months ago, however, and things move quite slowly around here. I’m sure there must be something you can dig up.”

Eager to latch onto the mystery and intrigue, Pyrrha steps forward and places a hand on Sir Godfrey’s shoulder, turning to face the others. “What an awful thing to have happen to people you obviously care for,” she says, sympathetic. “Even if my friends can’t dedicate the time, you have me.”

Indy narrows her eyes, scrutinizing Godfrey’s friendly smile…

“Shit. Tell me you rolled low,” Chloe says to the sound of Steph rolling. She leans on her elbows and rests her chin in her hands. “Pretty please?”

“Nice try, but no,” Steph says, unmoved. She peers over the screen at Chloe’s die. “Hey, at least it’s not a four.”

“It’s a twelve. One of the most nothing numbers.”

“You never know. What you do know is, this guy isn’t showing any signs of lying. He’s for sure swallowing a metric fuck-ton of pride to ask for help like this, so your trusty dickhead radar isn’t necessarily wrong, but the need for help seems genuine.” Steph pauses, a thoughtful look coming over her. “Max, why don’t you try that roll?”

Max blinks, surprised to be addressed. The patiently expectant, if cheeky, look Steph gives her is the look of someone who’s had participation-wrangling experience — Max figures she’s played this role long enough that she’s gotten used to managing all kinds of players. “Yeah, sure.”

Chloe slides over the die she’s been using and Max gives it a roll. For a breathtaking moment it teeters on the twenty, but then it falls on eleven. Chloe swears under her breath as Max checks the numbers on her sheet.

“Steph, we can’t use this anymore,” Chloe says, snatching up the die and tossing it over the screen. Steph realizes what she’s doing just in time to catch it. “You better have a different one.”

“Eleven doesn’t suck, dude, it’s average. And you don’t know what Max’s bonus is.”

Despite her words, Steph rolls a replacement out in Chloe’s direction and sends the original to Rachel’s side of the table. Max looks up while Chloe’s examining the new one and says, “Um, fifteen?”

Steph brightens, and Max can’t tell whether that’s a good thing or not. “Sir Godfrey’s got more on his mind than the kids. Like Indy, you’re pretty sure he’s not lying about that stuff, but he’s also… interested in you. The general you, but mostly May and Pyrrha.”

Chloe makes an annoyed sound, but Steph’s not finished.

“You’ve been here the longest, and it didn’t really stand out before, but he’s, like… really intrigued by magic. Every little sign of it gets his attention. He saw you shapeshift, and Pyrrha basically radiates the stuff, so it connects in your mind that he probably wants to see what you’re capable of and learn from it, or something like that. You can’t read his mind, obviously, but that’s the vibe.”

“I can do magic,” Chloe huffs, crossing her arms as a wry, calculating smile comes over Rachel. “Just because I’m not a show-off—”

Max leans over to her and murmurs, “Didn’t you almost stab some guy in public half an hour ago?”

“I — Shush, you weren’t there, Catwoman.”

“I’d think you’d be happy he’s not interested in you,” Rachel says. “You certainly don’t like him.”

Chloe gives Rachel a look and barks a laugh. “I know that face, you’re up to something. Get into it, girl.”

“You won’t like it,” Rachel warns, but she turns her gaze on Steph and Max can’t help but be impressed by how subtly she transitions into character with a flirtatiousness that echoes her own — yet somehow more regal, an elegant flair to the way she holds herself.

“Don’t mind Indy, she’s just cautious. As any good bodyguard should be.”

May snorts, quickly covering her mouth when Indy shoots her a look. “Sorry, it’s just… cautious wouldn’t be my first choice of words.”

”You knew a younger, dumber version of me,” Indy says, putting her arm around May. “Some things do change, you know. Sometimes you meet people that give you a million reasons to watch your back.” She levels Sir Godfrey with a glare. “Let’s not make it a million and one.”

Godfrey raises his hands placatingly. “It’s wise to take care with strangers, so don’t consider me offended. The mere fact you’re willing to entertain my plea is heartening enough.”

”Get a load of this guy,” Indy mutters to May, who quietly shushes her so that Pyrrha can take over.

”So, Godfrey — may I call you Godfrey?” Pyrrha asks, practically draping herself over the man’s shoulder. He laughs and nods, prompting her to go on with a curious glance. “You want us to help you, and of course we’re happy to. Or… at least begrudgingly willing, for certain of us. What I want to know is, do you intend this to be some sort of exchange? Might we learn something from you, for instance?”

”Interesting. I have a great deal of experience with the arcane arts, so there might be a lesson or two I can provide for anyone so inclined.”

Pyrrha drifts playfully behind him to the other shoulder, giving the others a wink in the intervening moment in which he can’t see her. “I’m sure that would go a long way towards building trust between us all. There are certain aspects of my magic that remain out of my reach, and I hope to unlock its secrets. I’ve only just met May, but there’s also potential there, no?”

Godfrey chuckles, appraising May for a few seconds. She nervously picks at a silver chain around her neck, but offers him a shyly interested smile. “You could say that.”

“Natural twenty,” Rachel announces, just a touch smug, when the die stops.

Chloe gets up to point accusingly at it, crowding Max’s space — something she accepts with a sigh. “You bitch, playing favorites.”

“Need I remind you that you’re on the same team?” Steph says; though she tries to sound annoyed, there’s a deviousness in her grin when she inadvertently catches Max’s eye. It’s quickly smoothed over to focus on the roll, and Max decides she’ll keep the observation to herself. She can feel herself getting invested in the pretend world they’re sharing in, drawn with ease by Chloe’s familiar enthusiasm and Rachel’s wholehearted dedication.

“Right now it’s me ‘n Max against the world, ‘cause the dice say so,” Chloe says, lightly bumping Max’s shoulder with her fist as she sits back down. “Once Rach starts eating fantasy shit we can let her back in.”

“You could also do better,” Rachel says, brow raised. Thoughtfulness bleeds in when she adds, “Then again, maybe fate has its own ideas. Who am I to question it?”

“In this moment, fate says you’ve got this guy eagerly agreeing to share his famous adventurer wisdom with you in exchange for helping the town look for those kids. Because I guess the fact that children are going missing isn’t enough,” Steph teases. “Anyway, he sticks around to give you the names of some of the families that’ve lost kids, and he’ll even give Pyrrha a magic messaging stone so you can all keep in touch. Looks like it came from the beach.”

“You wanna go sleep with him now, or…” Chloe says, to which Rachel flashes a middle finger without looking.

Steph clears her throat and motions to the map. “You’ve got your mission. How do you want to get started?”

Two hours later, it feels like they’ve found every possible dead end. Rachel engages nearly every one of Steph’s NPCs in conversation, flirting and interrogating her way through local gossip. Max latches on to every little description, aware that Steph must be pulling something sneaky on them, which results in the habit of closely examining everything, even down to the windowpanes of houses. They’ve solved a few minor issues, but the main quest remains out of reach.

At first Chloe had just let them take the lead, idly looking for trouble or combat (or both), but her exasperation at the two of them so slowly working their way through each nook and cranny inevitably roped her into the investigation. She’s convinced that the landlord that seems to be universally hated has to be involved somehow, but Max isn’t so sure. They’ve met him — he’s definitely an asshole — but Rachel had suggested that he could be the world’s biggest red herring and Max is inclined to agree. Having another suspicion unsupported by the others has, predictably, left Chloe mildly moody in her usual way.

“Why don’tcha turn into a dolphin and look at the bottom of the ocean?” she grumbles when Max and Rachel do another series of rolls as their characters comb through the beach. “Or a bird, get a look from above?” She prods her finger at Max’s character sheet. “You’ve barely done anything with your nature girl schtick.”

“We haven’t really been in nature,” Max says. “Not ‘til now, at least.”

“She might have a point.” Rachel leans close to Max, scanning the paper. Max surreptitiously covers part of her inventory list with her pencil; Steph had given her something as a special boon that she said might help at some point, but she wants it to be a surprise. Max has no idea what the right moment is, only that she’s pretty sure it hasn’t happened yet. “Civilization hasn’t given us jack so far, but maybe the forces of nature know things no person could…”

“I still think we should fuck up the landlord guy no matter what,” Chloe says while Max ponders the various skills and spells in front of her. Rachel looks at her, indecipherable. “What? That’s a heroic act!”

“I don’t disagree. I’m feeling like we should just do something batshit and see what happens. Maybe we could scare up a lead.”

“The disembodied voice of God politely asks for you not to set the only town she prepared on fire or else,” Steph says. “Give May-Max a chance.”

“I don’t really know what to do,” Max admits quietly. “Would that be… could this Commune thing work?”

Steph hums, plainly unwilling to give a direct answer. “That means you’re basically meditating on the land and everything around you, and you might pick up on things you can’t necessarily see. If that sounds like what you’re going for, then go for it.”

Max looks to Rachel, then Chloe. “What do you think?”

“I have a good feeling about this, and you,” Rachel says. “I say do it.”

“Me too,” Chloe says, nodding. “Save us from this fuckin’ wild goose chase.” Steph grins at that, and Chloe narrows her eyes. “Don’t tell me that’s why your costume—”

“Okay, I didn’t plan ahead, but I won’t lie, it was on my mind when you made me change. What, you think I was gonna make this easy?”

“Here goes,” Max says, before Chloe can snark back. “I use Commune.”

May takes a seat on one of the large boulders that are scattered along the sand-and-stone beach, and closes her eyes. The ritual will take some time, and she informs her companions of that fact before she takes a sketchbook from her bag and rests the tip of a quill upon it. Indy plops down next to the same boulder, resting her back against it as she looks up at the sky where the clouds are darkening with potential rain. Pyrrha restlessly paces a short stretch of beach with fingertips impatiently sparking, and as May recounts the initial stages of the ritual, she receives a telepathic message from the stone she’s been wearing smooth in her other hand.

”When you have a lead, come to my office. I believe I have found a way to narrow your search.”

She breathes a sigh of relief and calms down enough to stand watch a few steps from the others, the push and pull of the waves further relaxing her mood into something determinedly serene.

Though May’s eyes are closed, she begins to draw the vista sprawling out in front of her. The quill moves nearly on its own, and as a snapshot slowly forms, she can feel where things are as they should be and where things are ever so slightly off-kilter. When she draws the trees, she feels the absence of the birds, the agitation of the deer walking between them. When she outlines the waves, she hears mournful whalesong in the back of her mind. Sketching out the clouds leads to the dread of a coming storm, and when she puts the finishing touches on the lighthouse, she feels compelled to direct its beacon back to the town — in fact, she knows exactly the direction it points though it would be impossible to actually draw it.

Once the image is completed, her observations freeze in time. Should they change, she won’t know — but she knows how this place felt moments ago, and can use it. May opens her eyes to a near-photo-perfect sketch of the beach and cliffs, and she excitedly leans over to tap Indy’s shoulder.

”I know where to go. And there’s something… weird about this town, I don’t know, but maybe it’s related.”

”You’re telling me,” Indy says, but she jumps to her feet and squints at May’s drawing. “This is a fucking lifesaver, girl — Pyrrha, look at this!”

May explains what she sensed as the others watch her point to different parts of the sketch. Indy can hardly stay still, ready to run right to where the lighthouse told May to go, but Pyrrha brings them pause when she says, “We should loop Sir Godfrey in.”

”Should we?” Indy says doubtfully. “It sounds like we should just hurry our asses up and get those kids.”

”And what if we need help? He can make sure we’re strong enough to make it.”

”Y’know what, sure. Get his ass and bring him here, though, I’m not going off-track just for that dude even if you’re all googly eyes over his magic bullshit.”

Pyrrha rolls her eyes and sets off back to town in search of the mayor. May closes her sketchbook and gives Indy a worried look. “Are you sure we shouldn’t go with her?”

Indy sits back down, this time with her shoulder against May’s. “She’s always going off to pull miracles out of her ass. Besides, you know where to go from here, but maybe not from the magical mayoral mansion or whatever it is. I wanna catch up with you anyway, we haven’t had a minute to breathe.”

“So you’re gonna sit and talk?” Steph asks, brow raised. It puts Chloe — who has ended up sitting directly on the table now that it’s cleared of the last of their takeout trash — on edge immediately.

“If you’re gonna get us with a monster, just do it,” Chloe says with an accusing point. “Better than interrupting us again.”

Steph raises her hands, placating and showing that she’s not armed with any dice. “Nothing’s gonna happen to you. Promise. I’ll get to Pyrrha when you’ve said your piece.”

“Swear on your dice. Do it.”

With a laugh, Steph picks up the die she’s been rolling behind the screen and says, “I swear on this D20. Satisfied?”

Instead of answering, Chloe turns to Max and gives her an unexpectedly hesitant grin before sinking back into character. Rachel leans on her elbow to watch from Max’s other side, solemnly intrigued.

“What happened with you? One day you were there, next you were gone. And it’s not like I can track down someone who can be a fuckin’… I dunno, butterfly or some shit if she wants to,” Indy says, resting her arm over a bent knee.

”Um…” May takes a few seconds to organize her thoughts. “I didn’t really have a choice. It’s part of the whole… nature pilgrimage thing. I guess I thought maybe you knew about it, it wasn’t a secret as much as I just — I stupidly didn’t want to say goodbye.”

”Yeah, kinda sucks. I did figure it out ‘cause your family mentioned it, but the thing is, I thought you’d at least, like… reach out. Mail’s a thing. Bet you could ask a pigeon nicely if you wanted.”

May laughs in spite of herself. “I probably could, yeah. I don’t have any good excuse, really, I was just scared. Especially after I kind of… ghosted on my whole circle too.”

Indy looks at her with wide eyes. “You serious?” May nods. “Damn. Is it weird that I’m jealous I’m not special?”

”Very weird, but also very, uh, you. In the nicest way possible.”

May tilts her head to avoid Indy’s horns without a second thought when she shifts to rest her chin on May’s shoulder. Pensive silence lands for a few long moments. “Since you’re not tied down by whatever nature guardian stuff you had anymore, you think you could come with us? After this bullshit, obviously.”

”That sounds great. But… you’re sure I won’t get in the way of your, like… wait,* what’s *going on with you and Pyrrha?” May asks, sheepish. It’s not like they’ve talked about that yet. Not May and Indy, anyway.

”Hey, it’s a good fuckin’ question.” Indy glares over her shoulder in the direction Pyrrha went, as if the woman herself can sense it. It’s not long before Indy settles back into place, ignoring the distinct feeling she would have received a resolutely averted gaze. “But to tell you what you really wanna know… the only way you fuck up my life is if you’re not in it, alright? So — whatever it looks like, I don’t care, just stick around so we can figure it out. And I’ll… try not to be a total bitch about, y’know, dumb stuff.”

May smiles. “Key word: try?”

”I’m only human. Wait, no, that’s you. I’m a superhot not-devil-but-close-enough.”

”Not going to argue with that,” May says with just a smidge of hesitation. “I do want to find out what it looks like, so… yeah, I’ll come with you guys. Someone has to get you out of trouble. We should probably check with Pyrrha about it though.”

”C’mon, she obviously loves you,” Indy says dismissively as May stammers in response. “I’d know if she didn’t. In fact, I’ve got half a mind to ask what’s going on with you and Pyrrha,” she adds cheekily, which earns her a light shove.

”You already know.”

”Nuh-uh. You haven’t told me, Indy, about it.”

”Must be déjà-vu. But I think if you dig down deep, you can tell,” May says, rolling her eyes. “Now’s so not the time.” Indy snickers and puts her arm around May to give her a playful squeeze.

“While you guys are talking this out…” Steph says softly when silence falls. “Pyrrha, you’re up. It’s pretty easy to find Godfrey’s place by asking around, and you learn that he actually lives on the outskirts. Give me charisma real quick, just for your overall success and how long it takes.”

Rachel nods and rolls; it’s with a reserved smile that she says, “Nineteen.”

“Cool, so it doesn’t take all that long. You even get some history from one of the locals — this building you’re headed for was actually built in collaboration with that landlord fucker from earlier, and the story goes that Sir Godfrey took it over to demonstrate that he’s gonna crack down on the bullshit. But the person that tells you that — who might just be a conspiracy theorist, who the hell knows — thinks they might’ve worked together somehow. You’ve got nothing to tell you what’s true one way or another, but it’s some background to consider.”

“That is fascinating,” Rachel muses, “but you won’t stop me from going there.”

“Shit, who could?” Steph says, grinning. “So, you find the place and go up to the door…”

Pyrrha finds herself at a rustic door with a large brass knocker, the rest of the impressive old building towering over her. She knocks without hesitation and the sound rings clear through the nearby woods. It’s followed by the sound of a window opening; she looks up and Sir Godfrey leans out of the second story with a warm smile.

”Welcome, welcome. Come in, I’ll be just a moment.”

A voice in the back of Pyrrha’s mind, uncanny in its similarity to Indy’s, warns her against going inside. She ignores it and enters the foyer, grand in size but sparse in decoration. The mounted head of a taxidermized stag hangs just below an interior balcony, the latter accessible by two curving sets of stairs. The voice grows more insistent.

“Chloe, can you kindly shut up?”

Chloe, practically about to climb over Max, scoffs. The grip of her hand on Max’s shoulder tightens, making her wince. “Fine, but this is a horror movie mega-cabin, admit it. The creepiness factor is off the fucking charts.”

“I’m sure she knows what she’s doing,” Max says, prying Chloe’s hand off. “Even if this guy is corrupt, what would he be kidnapping people for? He’s probably just stuck-up about how much everyone’s into him.”

“I don’t think you want me answering that question, Max.”

The roll of a die interrupts the conversation and draws all eyes to Steph, who returns the looks with a worryingly pleased smirk. Rachel crosses her arms and fixes Steph with a challenging glare. “Well… come at me, game master. I dare you.”

“Not yet,” Steph says. “First things first, what are you doing?”

When no one appears to greet her within a reasonable timeframe, Pyrrha impatiently rolls her eyes and begins exploring. The house — more of a manor, really — has little in the way of clues to offer one way or another in regards to Sir Godfrey. It seems like however he came to reside here, he hasn’t put many of his own touches on the existing architecture or décor. It’s only when she finds a study that Pyrrha comes across the slightest of personal effects, mainly books of arcane research and his own notes on the subject.

Funnily enough, it’s May’s voice in the back of Pyrrha’s mind that wonders whether Sir Godfrey even really lives here. She doesn’t have time to consider the matter before the oil lamp on the desk goes out and the light streaming in from the window disappears to black. Something strong grabs her in the dark, pins her arms and covers her mouth, having entirely evaded her senses.

She has a single moment. Pyrrha clenches her fists and—

“Wait, hold on. You’re not doing what I think you’re doing?” Steph asks, suddenly wide-eyed.

Rachel brushes her finger over one of the abilities on her character sheet. “It’ll get their attention, won’t it?”

“Y-yeah, the whole fucking town’ll notice, but… you’re not out in the open. You’re gonna be stuck in — look, I’m totally down for this insanity, I just want to make sure you’re on board for what this might mean for Pyrrha.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Chloe says sharply, brows furrowed as her eyes dart between the two of them. Max watches, chewing at the inside of her lip. None of this is real, but apparently no one told her heart; it’s racing in fear and anticipation for what’s about to happen. “Rach, this sounds fucked. Don’t you have anything else?”

“I’m doing this.” Rachel slaps her hand down on her sheet, decisive. “Ruin of the Phoenix.”

“What?!”

Max grabs Chloe’s arm to stop her from impulsively snatching Rachel’s character sheet. “Whatever it is, we’ll… I dunno what, but we’ll do something.”

It’s enough to get Chloe to sit back down, though her leg jitters at a mile a minute against Max’s. That is, until Max puts her hand on her knee under the table and it comes to an uneasy rest. In place of the motion, Chloe exhales and picks up her pencil, which begins to doodle idly on the page in front of her. It’s a miracle she can still see any of the information on it; the margins are patterned with all manner of Price-brand graffiti.

Pyrrha clenches her fists and the wind picks up, impossibly, within the dark interior. The glow of her earrings intensifies as sparks fed by the twisting gales, catching the rest of her ablaze. The one who’d taken hold of her jumps back, but there’s nowhere to go, not before the entirety of Pyrrha’s inner fire rends itself free and combusts — the manor little more than a pile of sticks in the face of it all.

Within seconds, Pyrrha finds herself utterly burned out in the most literal sense. Weakened in the absence of that which empowers her, which now surrounds her, and no longer immune to it either. In the burning, crumbling wreckage, she closes her eyes and waits.

The sound of the explosion travels as inevitable and unavoidable as a tidal wave across the town, alerting May and Indy. Even without the smoke that begins to rise above the trees, May is already familiar with the direction it came from. Indy begins to run, and rather than stop her, May runs too — transforming into a bounding stag. It takes but an exchange of looks for Indy to nod and pull herself mid-sprint onto the stag’s back.

They reach the pyre that the building has become and May pulls up short, prompting Indy to drop back down to her feet, weapon flourishing. To May’s distress — but not surprise — Indy begins to rush the flames before she has even transformed back, such that her cry of “Wait!” comes out as a deer’s bellow. The structure has degraded so far that even among the blaze, both of them notice the limping shape of someone hurrying somewhere, then vanishing through the ground, possibly via some kind of trap door.

That gives Indy pause, in which she withstands enough burning to significantly injure even someone of her lineage, not helped by her now-superheated armor. She swears and tears her eyes away from where the stranger vanished, searching instead for Pyrrha. Just outside, shielding her face from the intense heat, May takes hold of her pendant and wonders…

“Should I…?” Max says, nervous as she looks between Steph and the map.

Chloe sits up from updating her hit point counter and narrows her eyes. “More secret bullshit?”

“If you mean more surprise kickassery, then yeah,” Steph says coolly before zoning in on Max with a reassuring smile. “If you wanna do it, then do it. Like I’ve been saying, that’s kinda how it goes. Whatever you do is bound to be impressive — feeling like you’ve got all kinds of power to make a difference and fuck shit up, either-or, it’s all part of the package.”

Max considers the words on her sheet, worrying at her lip. “But with great power…”

Steph laughs quietly. “In this case, yeah. You — that is, May — know the cost of using this item, depending on how much of its power you use. You were warned about a hundred times when it was granted to you that it’s only for an end-of-the-world kind of emergency, as the seers of your circle have foretold, and that you’ve seen for yourself exactly once. There’s no getting around the fact that its power destabilizes everything around it, and you already know that this place is unstable to begin with. Even a little will rock the boat, and more than that will probably turn into a serious issue.”

She pauses, gaze flicking to either side of Max; Chloe listens with a wary stare and Rachel, who has turned around to recline back against the table while her character is stuck in mortal danger, looks over her shoulder with keen curiosity.

“Then again, you’re not in your circle anymore,” Steph continues. “And you’re faced with the very real possibility of losing both of these girls to this fire, which is gonna take a lot more than some water to put out. You’ve got a second to use it the less risky way, and just get Indy out of there, or you can go all-in. They’re not total lost causes or anything, not yet — but it’s up to you how much you let chance decide their fates.”

“No pressure,” Max mumbles.

“I don’t know about ‘great responsibility…’ sounds like great bullshit to me,” Rachel says, eyeing Max with the fascinated glimmer of someone who can see the big red button and craves the knowledge of what will happen when it’s pressed. “What does Max Caulfield want?”

“Nah, what does May Vivian want?” Chloe points out, giving Max’s mini a tap with her finger. “Whatever you do, I’m with you, Max. So’s Indy.” She gives Max a half-smile. “But one way or another, we’re getting our firebomb outta here.”

“It’s Madame Molotov, thank you.”

“Oh, my bad. I meant Pyro-maiden.”

Rachel gives Chloe a lazy middle finger, which transitions into a gentle squeeze of Max’s shoulder. “I know you want to save her. Go ahead.”

Max purses her lips, knowing with a glance what Rachel’s suggesting, and says — with more gravity than she means for a dice game — “Fuck that, I-she needs you too. As if I’m not gonna help… I’m breaking the glass,” she says to Steph, firm in spite of the way-too-real rush of nerves.

Steph beams, says, “Hell fucking yes, dude.”

“B-but first — if I’m holding on to Chloe, I mean Indy, does that mean…”

“She’ll come along for the ride, yeah. But she’s gotten pretty far ahead in, I seriously can’t stress this enough, an actively burning building. You’re gonna need to roll for it, but you can pick whether you’re trying to endure the heat or avoid the worst of it by being quick with some sweet acrobatics.”

Max lets out a breath and nods, picking up the die. “I dunno if I have it in me to just take it, so I’ll go with the second thing…”

May stares at the whirl of sand that spins within its glass sphere, which she knows as a single spark of time itself. She closes her hand around it, then looks ahead to the collapsing building. Indy’s managed, at great cost, to get up to what’s left of the second floor — to reach her, May will have to do the same, and without the same blood-deep protection. But she steels herself and heads inside, carefully navigating along the remaining supports.

She makes it to the stairs, which are now more of a vertical obstacle course that happens to be on fire, like some kind of absurdly over-the-top circus act. May starts climbing and leaping from beam to column, but it’s almost immediate — the third wooden crossbar cracks under her weight and tumbles along with everything around it, giving way in a searing crash of smoke and red-hot embers. It’s almost enough to knock May unconscious, the smoke so heavy when she lands that she can only feel that she landed on something hard and scorching… something metal, like a heavy-duty door.

Holding her breath, her eyes squeezed shut, May rips the pendant off and smashes it against the door. The world around her stops, then transforms into a blur of incomprehensible motion with nothing but the roar of fire and thunder rattling the back of her head. Then it stops again, and she’s still on her hands and knees, still coughing from smoke inhalation and reeling from severe burns, but the steel trap door she fell on is cool to the touch and the room around it dark, but intact.

There are no windows, just a door with a heavy padlock that May has little confidence in picking, and no interest in trying to break down in case she gets caught. But she notes the sliver of space underneath it and uses some of the last of her strength to turn into a butterfly with singed wings, slipping below the door and fluttering about until she finds a room with an open window and escapes. She learns enough of the layout of the manor that she has some confidence in finding the secret room again — but first, she searches from above for Pyrrha.

She finds her walking determinedly towards the building and dives down, practically falling into her as she rushes to become human again.

Pyrrha grabs her in sheer surprise, then speechless shock as she realizes May hasn’t only appeared out of nowhere — she’s also on death’s door, smelling of smoke and covered in burns.

”Don’t go in,” May says, her voice hoarse. “It’s a trap.”

When Max preemptively moves to roll the die, expecting a need to persuade Pyrrha to divert from her path, Rachel takes gentle hold of her wrist.

“Wh—”

“That won’t be necessary. Shit, just look at you,” Rachel says, letting out a disbelieving laugh. “No, put that down. Here’s how this story goes…”

Pyrrha looks up at the windows of the manor and nods, putting her arm around May to keep her steady and upright as she leads the way in turning around. The heat radiating from May hardly bothers her, though it does paint a distressing picture of what happened.

”Indy can take care of you, so let’s go back before someone notices how fucked up you are.”

”You believe me? Just like that?” May asks, frowning. “We just met. I thought…”

”I’m not saying I don’t want an explanation,” Pyrrha says with a wry smile. “But anyone Indy likes as much as she likes you deserves to be heard out. That’s not an easy bar to reach.”

”Could say the same about you.”

Pyrrha gives a dubious hum. ”You think?”

”I know. Just because you’ve had less time… time has nothing to do with it,” May says. “You don’t have to do that, you know. Act like because I’m here now you need to give her, and us, space. Maybe I like you being around, too. And I mean like* really *around, not just half-assed around.”

”Now, what do you mean by that?”

”Playing dumb doesn’t really work for you,” May mutters, surprising even herself.

Pyrrha stares at her with raised brows, but takes it in stride — even looking rather impressed. “Touché. I suppose I shouldn’t bullshit a wounded woman who has apparently been through hell to save me from… something.” She pauses, deep in thought as they slowly make their way back to the beach. “She’s happy you’re back.”

”Me too. So are you, I’m guessing,” May says, not quite guessing at all.

”Sure, what’s not to like? I feel like I’ve gone over this but I can always do it again,” Pyrrha teases; May makes a face, as much of one as she can without too much pain from her burns, and shakes her head.

”No, thanks. It does kinda make me wonder why you wouldn’t want to, uh, whole-ass it? Or does Pyrrha last-name only get one good friend at a time?”

”Pyrrha Minola.” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “Which isn’t the real thing, and you should be thankful for that. Too long, too elf-y. Far too pretentious.

Max, suddenly curious, nudges Chloe’s side with her elbow. “Did you give Indy a last name? I don’t think you’ve mentioned it.”

“Uh…” Chloe’s brows furrow and she looks to Steph for help. “It was some French shit, right?”

Steph snorts. “Yeah, dude. But the real ‘genius’ is in the translation,” she says, air-quoting.

“What? Oh!” With a snap of her fingers, Chloe grins. “Laroque. Get it, Max?”

“You know I don’t know French.”

“Rock. Which means her name’s Indy Rock. More like Indy-the-Rock, but whatever.”

“She was really proud of that,” Steph says in a stage whisper across the table.

Chloe scoffs. “You’re just upset you didn’t think of it first for some rando on the street.”

Sighing, Steph concedes with a lighthearted shrug. “Fine, I’ll give you one win. I do think it’s pretty sick. Now — anything else you two wanna do before you get back to the beach?” she asks, motioning between Max and Rachel after she checks the time on her phone. “Any questions you want to ask… or answer…”

It’s a noticeably loaded prompt even without the raised-brow glance from Steph, and Max realizes with a blink that Rachel didn’t actually answer her character’s question. She’d gotten completely distracted. But now it just feels awkward to make an attempt to go back; it had already taken some of her nerve just to ask once, and that’s even accounting for the fact that it was her character speaking, not Max.

Having thoroughly convinced herself it’s not worth the trouble and awkwardness, Max shakes her head. “I’m good if you are,” she tells Rachel, who’s been patiently waiting with her chin in her hand. She smiles and hums in the affirmative.

“Let’s give Indy a heart attack,” she says. “Somehow I doubt you walked away in that state without her. Which means you must have disappeared?”

“Sure did,” Steph says. “Literally vanished into thin air without warning ‘cause fucking with time, like any serious time travel story will tell you, never just affects the clock. So, Chloe, how’s Indy handling it?”

Indy can be heard long before she’s seen as she calls out in panicked search of May, which — despite all injuries — encourages the others to move more swiftly to reach her. To their relief, she hasn’t yet left the beach; they cross the tree line and see her practically pacing a trough into the sand up and down the shore. Pyrrha gets her attention through the sound of her own voice and stomping boots with a bright sparking flash of magic, and Indy first turns with weapon drawn before she realizes who’s here.

May braces for a barrage of angry questions, but gets pulled out of Pyrrha’s arms into a tight hug instead. She looks past Indy’s shoulder and sees the trident abandoned in the sand for the sake of holding her.

Her burns slowly cool with the bite of a northern breeze concentrated into fine glowing wisps of blue magic that envelop her the longer Indy hangs on. It’s only when she’s mostly healed that Indy finally speaks.

”What the fuck happened to you?” Indy pulls out of the hug to take May by the shoulders, the restorative smoke still wafting from her hands. She gives Pyrrha a quick once-over, finding her unharmed. “And how’d she get you *to come back? Did you already talk to the asshole?”

Pyrrha shakes her head. “I’m told… well, May should explain. I think she saved me?”

”She can’t go in there alone, everything will go to shit,” May says, biting her lip before she adds, “I know because I saw it. And I… undid it, even though it kinda means Godfrey will be harder to deal with…”

”We’ll get him.” Indy sits May firmly down on the boulder they’d been sharing both minutes and an hour ago all at once. “But first: tell us everything.”

Pyrrha stands alongside Indy and puts a hand on her arm, wordlessly suggesting for her to step back and provide more breathing room even as she regards May with rare sincerity. When they move, May looks up and has her eye drawn to the skies behind them — furiously dark, slowly spiraling clouds overlooking churning waves.

“…and you know without a doubt that by putting off one terrible fate you’ve accelerated another,” Steph says. “Such is the way of nature — not just flora and fauna, but the fabric of reality that holds it all together — that it can’t abide action without reaction. That said, while the brewing storm is bound to complicate your mission to unravel the truth, you don’t have to face it alone, and therein lies the possibility that that might make all the difference.”

Max gets a squeeze of her hand from Chloe on her left, and barely has time to react before her other arm gets taken into the bend of Rachel’s, who leans in close with a warm smile. Though her instinct is to shrink away from all the attention, she finds that instinct at odds with the flutter in her chest.

Steph watches them, taking such a long pause that Max thinks she’s waiting for one of them to say something. But then, folding up the screen, she says, “To be continued, so you have no excuse not to keep in touch.”

“Oh, bitch,” Chloe murmurs under her breath. She lets go of Max’s hand and crosses her arms. “What, you wanna take this long-distance?”

“Or you can, I don’t know, visit?” Steph says. “You’ve got wheels. And if Max’s parents are cool, maybe even a free place to stay — if you don’t want to squeeze into my closet of a dorm room. But I’m down with however you want to do it.” She pauses, offers a mildly sheepish smile. “I guess I haven’t done my part keeping in touch either, so let’s make it a group effort.”

“Now you’ve said that, I’m in,” Chloe says, shoulders relaxing. “But still, fuck you for hooking us on a cliffhanger.”

“Well, I’m going to say thank you,” Rachel says, picking up the minis and holding them out to Steph. “I didn’t realize how much I missed our sessions.”

Steph holds her hand up, declining the minis. “You guys keep those, I’ll use stand-ins if we play online. Chloe’s truck obviously needs more weird dashboard ornaments. But I will take this,” she says, picking up the map and delicately folding it small enough to slide into her notebook. “I might use the concept for class, plus I don’t trust it wouldn’t come back all wrinkled to shit.”

Rachel hands the appropriate miniatures to the others, and Max turns hers over in her hand with a small smile. She has more than a few suspicions about Steph’s ulterior motives, but she won’t be the one to point them out if she can help it. Max isn’t sure it’ll go anywhere, but she appreciates the valiant effort.

“I told Mikey I’d help him with a project once I was done here so I’d better track him down.” Steph packs her things into a backpack and hoists it onto her shoulders. “If you’ve got anything else to say, speak now or text me later.”

“Thanks,” Max says softly. Steph grins.

“Anytime, dude. I love this shit.”

“Nerd,” Chloe says, climbing back onto the table as everyone else clears it of papers and dice. “But yeah, cool to do this again. We’ll make sure you and Max get another date soon.”

Steph rolls her eyes and says to Max, “Has she always been this impossible?”

“Pretty much.”

Laughing, Steph gives Chloe a light punch in the arm, to which Chloe dramatically feigns groaning agony. “Oh, shut up. Just tell me when you’ve gathered your party and we’ll venture forth, as they say.” She passes Max a knowing look and straightens up, phone in hand and scrolling through her contacts. “Good luck getting through Blackhell in the meantime.”

Steph brings her phone to her ear and begins walking away, leaving them with a wave in farewell. Rachel pulls herself up onto the other end of the table and waves back, one leg crossing over the other. It’s as Max finishes putting her things in her bag and takes out her camera in idle consideration of hunting for some shots when Rachel turns to Chloe and asks, “So, what did you two get up to last night?”

“Burned down a few buildings, shot a guy, did some light vandalism,” Chloe says, leaning back on her hands. “You should’ve been there.”

Rachel shakes her head with a smile and addresses Max. “I can believe the vandalism. But the real answer?”

“You don’t think I could shoot someone?” Max asks. She gives Rachel a second to raise an eyebrow before continuing, “’Cause you’re right, there’s no way in hell. We kinda just talked and went to bed… I tried the wine and it made me sleepy.”

“Ooh, you did? How was it?”

“Uh, not my thing. Sorry.”

Rachel laughs quietly. “You won’t insult me by not liking my parents’ wine, Max. I am curious if you talked about anything interesting. You both left in… let’s say thought-provoking circumstances.”

Chloe swings her gaze over, apprehensive. “Is there some kind of fucking conspiracy all of a sudden? I just needed some fresh air, you know I can only take so much of the Blackwell student body before the pumpkin carriage calls.”

“You can’t blame a girl for wondering. The timing was—”

“Nothing. It wasn’t anything. C’mon, Rach, leave it alone.”

Rachel’s jaw sets, her shoulders tensing as Max slowly gets to her feet with her camera and half a notion in mind to slip away and let them bicker. That hope goes unfulfilled — the whip-quick glance from Rachel might as well be the flash of an interrogation lamp for how effortlessly it makes her freeze in place. “Maybe it should have been something.”

It gives Chloe pause too, the casual bounce of her leg coming to a stop as she gives Rachel a bewildered look verging on annoyed. “Okay,” she says, drawn-out and testy. “If you’re pissed that I left, then — sorry? But that can’t be it, so for the love of fuck, just say what it is. I’m not playing another round of guess-the-bitchfit.”

“Fine.” Rachel pulls her legs up onto the table and crosses them. “Since neither of you can take a damn hint… let’s put it all on the table.” She gives the weather-worn wood under her hand a pat and says, “You two are obviously crazy for each other. I was hoping you’d come to realize it on your own, but apparently not.”

Max’s hand squeezes tight around the strap of her bag and her face warms. She’s not sure what she expected, but she wasn’t prepared regardless. A nervous look to Chloe brings no help; Chloe’s staring in utter disbelief at Rachel, lips parted as she struggles to find her words. Rachel waits patiently but expectantly, chin lifted and a clearly challenging so there written in her expression.

“Let me get this straight,” Chloe finally says, sitting upright so she can use her hands to rub at her face. “You’re pissed that we left after you kissed Max like it was the end of a fucking movie, and you didn’t wake up to me and Max together.”

“That’s not exactly how I’d—”

“What kind of whack-ass-backwards wingman move is that?!” Chloe exclaims, arms gesturing in a wide sweep.

Looking to turn down the heat before they work each other up too far, Max says, “For the record, we did… kind of talk. Enough to get on the same page, I think.” She gets a terse nod of confirmation. “It’s just…” Max considers Rachel for a few moments, deciding she’ll take matters into her own hands. “Actually, can I ask you something?”

Rachel’s still on the defensive, but she softens with curiosity. “Of course.”

“Are you gonna answer in goddamn riddles?” Chloe grumbles, but at least she has the wherewithal to seem a little apologetic when Max gives her a disapproving look.

“I’ll answer the question. Max deserves that much for being a good sport yesterday,” Rachel says, appearing genuine if only by looking somewhat weary.

“Great. Um…” Max exhales, then resolves to drive a truck through it. No point fucking around, and if she’s right, she might even have an idea crazy enough to work. “I know you still have feelings for Chloe. Not yet,” she says, interrupting Chloe’s attempt to interject. “It’s my turn. I’m just thinking… I don’t think it’s total bullshit that you thought that kiss would do something. I do think it’s a pretty convenient excuse because it’s not all made up. But there’s more to it, isn’t there?”

Rachel maintains her neutral expression, says, “How so?”

“Hey, you told me just this week I needed to be more up-front about my feelings. So, um, right back atcha…” It grates against her instincts to ask, because despite every shred of evidence, it still feels so absurd. But she’s beyond the point of no return now, and that in itself is something of a relief. “Do you like me too?”

“You’re exceedingly likeable,” Rachel starts, evasive, but Max makes a face as she sets her camera down on the table.

“Rachel. You know what I mean.”

With a sigh, Rachel’s shoulders drop in defeat. “I… do, yes. To be clear, I wasn’t sure until very recently. But, well, sue me.” She offers Chloe a rueful smile. “I fell for your Max, but I swear—”

“Whoa, I’m not anyone’s Max, let’s get that out of the way,” Max says. She bites her lip and inwardly curses the universe for putting her in this position out of the three of them — but maybe this is the only way it could have been. “But what if… we all… you know. If all the feelings are mutual, why wouldn’t… okay, you’re both being way too quiet.”

“You mean…” Chloe says, motioning in a circular fashion between the three of them. Max nods. “Huh.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever tried it before, but it’s a compelling idea,” Rachel says. Slowly, an intrigued smile grows on her lips. “Wait, this implies that you…”

Max throws her hands up helplessly; her cheeks are practically burning by now, but all she can do is ignore it. “Fuck it. Yeah, I have two big dumb crushes. I thought it’d be better not to say anything, but obviously it’s not better, it’s just stupid. Don’t you think it’s at least worth a try?”

Chloe chuckles a bit, quiet. “Never would’ve bet Max Caulfield’s first time shooting her shot would be a double feature. Guess that’s the Seattle effect.”

“They do have polycules, I hear,” Rachel says, brushing her hair back with a grin. “What do you say, Price? You up for sharing?”

It’s with some hesitation that Chloe rubs at the back of her neck and shrugs. “Fuck, Rach, I just keep thinking about that bullshit mind game you tried to pull on us. Mostly me, ‘cause I’m the jealous bitch, right? And now I get why you’ve been holding back on being serious about us, which is another shitty thing.” She shakes her head and holds up a hand to stop the others from responding. “Doesn’t mean I don’t wanna give this a chance, though. Shit.”

Max shifts her weight, unsure that she should be the one to address Chloe’s hurt feelings when they’re coming from Rachel’s actions. Rachel, for her part, contemplates the wood grain in front of her, tracing it with her fingers. Eventually she looks back up to Chloe and says, “I have a proposal, then.” She gets a go on gesture and continues, “You and I take Max out separately. A test run, if you will. In the meantime… I’ll find some way to make it up to you, and if all’s well that ends well…”

“We post the official announcement of our trifecta online and tag Max’s parents,” Chloe says, solemnly nodding — she breaks into a bark of laughter when Max makes a pained noise of protest. “Kidding. I can’t have a Caulfield family heart attack on my conscience.” She looks at Max and softens. “Anyway… I like the part where we give Max all the attention, ha, ‘cause she’ll never stop blushing just like that. I’m in.”

“And what if I blush so hard I melt into a puddle?” Max mumbles, covering her face with her hands. “You wouldn’t date a puddle.”

“Says who?” Rachel says, brow raised. “If the puddle’s cute enough…”

Max pouts ineffectively at her through her fingers and she laughs as Chloe motions for Max to join them, leaning down to pick up the camera and hold it out. “C’mon girl, you’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t document this with a group shot.”

“Already? You don’t want to wait until after this ‘test run’ thing and see if it works out?” Max asks, but she’s already taking her camera and pulling herself up to sit on the table between them. It’s hard to resist her personal siren’s call, after all. “Maybe you’ll find out I’m really bad at dating. I wouldn’t know.”

Chloe scoffs, leaning in against Max’s shoulder. “Yeah, and I’m a secret ballerina queen. Fuck off with that.”

Not a moment later, Rachel cozies up to Max’s other side and says, “Besides, what they don’t tell you is that it’s really just hanging out — with a little added context to taste.”

Max sighs, thoroughly flanked and not as willing to shrink away as she might have expected of herself a week ago. Trying to retrace the steps of how she has gotten here, of all places, leaves her almost dazed — so she decides to save the bewilderment for her trusty journal, and lifts up the camera. “I’ll take your word for it. Shooting in three…”

Chloe presses her cheek up to Max’s temple, as comfortable and familiar in Max’s space as ever, and holds up the sign of the horns as she grins with her tongue peeking out.

“Two…”

Rachel, in a move that Max honestly should have seen coming a mile away, puts a hand on her shoulder and presses her lips to Max’s cheek in a soft kiss.

“Uh— one.”

Max decisively presses the shutter, and the film soon ejects itself for her to take. Chloe stays crowded in Max’s bubble to watch the beginnings of the photograph’s development process, while Rachel backs off. Though it will take some minutes for it to reach its final form, enough of the image comes to fruition within the first for Max to observe that she hasn’t smiled this much for a photo in forever. It’s a shy, somewhat overwhelmed smile — but genuine, the look of someone who can hardly believe her circumstances.

She and Chloe are still engrossed in the photo when Rachel clears her throat. “Water is no good for film, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, you have to keep it super dry,” Max murmurs without thinking. “I have special storage for…” A droplet hitting her nose is what snaps her into the reality that Rachel’s trying to point out. “Oh, shit.”

Chloe leaps to her feet and pulls Max by the arm. “Save the photo! Run!”

All three of them sprint to the Prescott Dormitory, laughing, as the rain slowly picks up. Halfway there, Chloe snatches the photograph and tucks it into the front of her shirt, Max giving her an indignant look.

“Chloe! Your bra is not on the list of approved storage containers,” she says, catching an amused snort from Rachel close behind them.

“It’s for like ten fuckin’ seconds, chill,” Chloe huffs. And while Max wants to argue, the rain suddenly comes down harder and she feels less certain she would’ve been able to keep the film out of the rain. They soon reach the building and file inside — while they catch their breath, Chloe leaning back against the door, Max walks up to her and pulls the photo out herself. “Whoa, Max. Haven’t even done our date yet.”

“Like I haven’t seen your bra before,” Max says, rolling her eyes before she checks the film, finding it unharmed.

“And that’s why Chloe gets first dibs,” Rachel says, smiling when the others turn to her, though it quickly turns into a nose-wrinkled look of disdain when she shakes out her sleeve and it drips. “The weather apparently demands that it’s time for a wardrobe change, so… I’ll see you two later?”

Chloe sees her off with a wave and Max nods, watching as Rachel turns to leave after a lingering look. Once she’s out of view, Chloe slumps against the door. “Holy shit.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“Look, we talked a bunch about how we were feeling… you really want this?” Chloe eyes her with mild suspicion. “You’re not just trying to be Mediator-Max, are you?”

“While that sounds like something I’d do,” Max admits, “I promise it’s not just that. I dunno, it just seemed like the most obvious solution. It’s not like I’m not, um, getting something out of it, too.”

Chloe laughs, the skepticism leaving her expression the longer she watches Max, replaced with something close to awe. “Talk about a score. Eat your damn heart out, Victoria.”

“Okay, you’re not allowed to rub it in her face until we know this is for real,” Max says, prodding at Chloe’s shoulder. “Then I won’t stop you even if I’d still rather you didn’t.”

“What? She’s a bitch, but you know what you have?” Max shakes her head, not knowing anything except that she’s likely about to want to put her head in her hands. “Two bitches. Basic math, this means you win.”

“I guess you are better at math than me. You seem a lot more excited about this now than you were before,” Max says, leaning her shoulder on the door next to Chloe, who stretches her arms with a thoughtful hum.

“I have a good feeling about this. It’s not like I’m planning to fuckin’… never be with Rachel again or something. Just didn’t wanna let what she did slide, y’know? We’re supposed to be real with each other. When we are, everything works out.”

Max smiles and gives the photo another look; it’s just about finished developing, and though it’s not a perfect shot by any technical definition, Max thinks it’s just about perfect enough for her. “This one’s for me and my wall,” she decides out loud. “I can’t let you and Rachel take all my best work.”

“Lemme see where you put it, at least,” Chloe says, straightening up in preparation to go to the dorms. “It deserves to be more special than all the other photos.” Max starts walking, expecting Chloe to follow — she doesn’t expect to be held back by the strap of her bag last-second. “Hang on. If we’re ‘boutta be courting and shit—”

“Yes, Mr. Darcy?” Max says, wryly amused even as the mere suggestion of it makes her heart skip a beat.

Chloe grins and tugs Max closer. “Does that mean I get another kiss?”

Max considers it, quite genuinely in fact, and finds herself interested… but even more interested in taking a somehow bolder approach. “We haven’t even had a date yet,” she says. “If that’s what you want, then start planning.”

“Shit. I can’t believe you,” Chloe groans, following a half step behind when Max makes her way towards her dorm. “Already found a brand-fucking-new way to fuck with me.”

“Hey, it’s kinda fun to hold the carrot. And you fuck with me all the time.”

When they finally reach the right corridor, Chloe insists on taking Max’s keys and bounding ahead to her door. Max takes her time, checking her phone along the way. She has one simple message waiting for her.

Steph: well?

Max: Let’s say we’re semi-officially “venturing forth” ^^;

Steph: by “we” you mean

Max: I mean a “we” of three…

Steph: lol congrats dude! and good luck but honestly i think you’ve got this

Max: Thanks for everything! You didn’t have to do all that for a stranger

Steph: don’t sweat it. 1) again, love that shit 2) you’re making my friends happy so i’m stoked to help

“Earth to Max,” Chloe says, sing-song, and Max realizes she’s just been standing in her own doorway responding to Steph. “Everything cool?”

Max nods, putting her phone away. She has all the time in the world to keep this new friendship going, especially if they’re going to keep playing games together. Chloe’s on her couch, in one of her hoodies, plucking idly away at her guitar even though she doesn’t actually know how to play. The sight isn’t anything new by a long shot — they’ve always shared just about everything from space to homework answers — but it’s like she’s seeing it in warm, golden light.

She steps inside and closes the door, turning to the photo wall with a critical eye and Chloe’s gaze at her back. Somehow even that seems new-but-familiar, and Max finds herself more confident in her unscripted, unplanned idea, if only because it already feels as sure as destiny, a crooked puzzle piece finally slipped into place. The picture was always there, it just had the slightest potential left.

Also? Parties aren’t so bad, after all.