Okay, fangirls and fanboys, I have this super huge and very important announcement to make…

I'm removing the space in my username.

Heh, okay, fine, it's not that huge of a deal, I just thought I should tell you either way. There are two reasons for this change. I won't tell the main one because it's kind of awkward and I feel like some of you will figure it out yourselves, but the other reason is that my original username feels a little too formal and sounds too much like a real name so… I want to change it.

… Anyways, enjoy~

"What do you mean you're still in class?! I literally just broke into your dorm!"

She hears Max let out that small nervous sound from the other line. She can picture the little hippie fidgeting with the hem of her jacket, doing that anxious tick of hers. It makes her roll her eyes, honestly. Max makes it seems like she stole a diamond when all she does is walk into a place she's not supposed to walk into.

"I'm really sorry, Chloe, but I can't miss this class." There's a small pause, then Max speaks in a faster, harsher, yet somehow quieter tone. "Plus, you could've at least told me you were coming over. Could've saved you from trouble."

What is with this girl and her avoidance towards danger? It's like she's actually afraid of it. It's unnatural and, frankly, unsettling.

"Ugh. Let me guess, you're having Boreson's class."

"What?"

Chloe rolls her eyes again, leaning against the wall. "Jefferson, idiot."

"O-oh." She can hear the girl blushing, and it tugs one side of her lips upwards. Man, she wishes she can be with Max right now so she can ruffle the kid's hair or poke her nose or, well, something. It beats having to stand in this crummy hallway that smells like girl drama.

Though, they can always video call…

"Crap, he's here. I'm sorry, Chloe, but I've got to go."

Oh. So no video call. That's disappointing.

Chloe shakes her head in amusement when she hears a bunch of shuffling - Max is totes tidying her desk. This girl is too cute for her own good. "Later, Mad Max."

She hangs up her phone.

A beat passes.

Then another.

Then another.

… Welp! Time to break into her best friend and crush's room and try to get some juicy blackmail material!

Max's room isn't the 'I am a perfectionist, therefore, every inch of my room needs to not only be spotless, but symmterical', but it's sure as hell better than her shithole. It's got some DVDs, pictures, plants that are still alive - unlike her own room… poor Poppy… - books that she doubts Max reads, and a whole other shit.

Chloe snickers. This room is so Max. All hipstery and geeky and introverty, it all just screams Caulfield kid, and it is insanely awesome.

"Investigation time!"

Okay, so the investigation time isn't as investigaty as she wants it to be, but it's still cool to know that Max has 'Princess Protection Program' in Bluray - because that totally counts for blackmail material - and that she has a couple of books on photography - it doesn't count as a blackmail material, but aww, Max's really into this artsy thing, and it's hella cute.

Chloe hits the jackpot when she finds a locked box down on the corner of the room, hidden from plain sight by a large fabric haphazardly thrown over it.

And it's got a six number combination lock.

Great.

Okay, whatever Max's hiding, it can't be that big of a deal, right?

So Chloe tries the number one combination everyone should always use all the time: 1-1-1-1-1-1.

The lock doesn't budge.

Okay… how about 0-0-0-0-0-0?

Nope. Still as a shitty statue.

1-2-3-4-5-6?

Still the opposite of affirmative.

6-5-4-3-2-1?

Nada.

Now's probably the time Chloe starts using, like, 0.01% of her brain - ugh, she hates using her brain and having to do boring stuff like 'thinking', but alas, it is for an important mission, so she has no choice but to - and she thinks.

2-1-0-9-9-5.

Maxine's B-day.

Chloe blinks when the lock doesn't make that clicking sound that indicates it's been unlocked, surprised that she got it wrong.

Man, whatever it is the kid's hiding, it's got to be important.

Chloe tries using Max's parents' birthday dates, and then she has to google Mister Jefferson's birthday and cringes when she finds out that he's almost in his fifties - christ, Max, why're you even into him? - and tries all of Max's friends' - meaning Kate's and Warren's - birthday dates, but all of it is a big fat nope.

But then Chloe starts using 0.02% of her brain, and her brows furrow, biting her lips. Her hands are hesitant when they work on the lock. And she's pretty sure that her cheeks are red with how hot it feels. She doubts this is the combination, but she's running out of ideas and she doesn't want to re-explore Max's room to somehow figure out the combination as she did with Drew North that one time, so… she has to do this, to get it out of her system more than anything. Again, she really, really doubts it because there's no way Max would put-

CLICK!

Chloe gapes at the lock, which loosens around the box before falling down, leaving nothing blocking her from the mysterious box.

A beat passes.

Then another.

Then another.

Then Chloe's entire face burns, down to her neck, because wowzers, did Max really put Chloe's birthday as the combination? Chloe, of all people? Like, she knows they're joined at the hip, but, heh, it's kinda too much for friends, especially since this mysterious box is supposedly super mysterious, and now her box has this fuzzy warm feeling and her stomach's buzzing with bees - or are those butterflies? - and it's kind of hard for her to really think about it so she doesn't think about it and just opens the damn box.

It feels like opening the Pandora's box, like at any minute, the FBI is gonna come and tackle her and arrest her or whatever. But nothing happens. And there are no red dots pointed at her head or heart or stomach. So Chloe proceeds to look inside, into the unknown.

It's… a scrapbook.

Chloe blinks because what the fuck? But she knows Max is an artist and artists usually does this weird deep shit so she doesn't question it much and picks it up, looking at it. The cover is plain and colored in black, and Chloe's heart does this weird soaring thing when she notices the neon-blue heart drawn at the corner and she tries to stop the soaring thing because it's just a coincidence, it's just a coincidence that the color of the heart is the exact same color as her hair.

Knowing she's not going to be satisfied with marveling a scrapbook, she opens the scrapbook.

What Chloe is surprised about isn't that the book is filled with pictures, it's that it's filled with pictures of her.

All of it. It's just a bunch of Chloe Price.

Chloe Price leaning against the truck, looking disinterestedly at the buildings ahead. Chloe Price in her room, looking up at the ceiling, cigar in her hand, smoke coming out of her mouth. Chloe Price sitting on the bench. Chloe Price having fun on the junkyard. Chloe, Chloe, Chloe.

Suddenly, there's a lump in her throat and Chloe finds it hard to swallow.

And that's not even the wildest part… The wildest part is just how artistic and nicely-taken each shot is. The angle, the lighting, all of that stuff… and every picture Max took, it makes Chloe look like… not a total fuck-up. Chloe's always smiling, laughing, or even smirking in each shot, and she wonders if this is how Max looks at her every day, wonders a lot of things, really, but most of all wonders if her secret feelings are reci-

"Chloe?"

Slowly, she looks up to find an equally-startled Max, gripping her bag with one hand, the other still placed against the door.

She opens her mouth to speak but feels that same lump again, so she closes it, not trusting her voice not to waver.

Max's eyes are wide, and she keeps looking back and forth between the scrapbook and Chloe. Her own mouth opens and closes. And the blush in her cheeks gradually builds up before coloring her entire face, and Chloe finds it amazing how Max's blush always brings out her freckles, making her look even cuter.

Max tries a smile, but it's obvious that she's doing it to make things less awkward more than anything, and she lets out this fake chuckle. "Erm, how much did you see?"

Everything, she wants to say but can't, not wanting Max to worry over her trembling voice. Chloe gestures to the scrapbook vaguely before standing up, walking, stopping once she's a step away from the younger girl.

Max looks up shyly at her, a million questions dancing in those doe eyes. Chloe has questions too, but she's pretty sure she already knows the answer, even if she's not quite willing to admit it yet.

Chloe's using 0.00% of her brain now. She's relying solely on these weird things called her heart and instinct and feelings and lets them drive her actions because her brain is still processing everything and likely won't work if she wants to use them.

Her shaky hand raises itself up to caress Max's cheek. And when Max blinks in question and something that looks like hope, Chloe's mouth tugs upwards - is it a grateful smile? A mischievous smirk? She doesn't know.

Max takes a small step forward and rests her hand on Chloe's shoulder, biting her lip, wordlessly wondering if Chloe's okay with it.

And Chloe's okay with it.

Chloe has to buckle her knees and lean down so their lips can meet, and when they do meet, she's immediately addicted by how warm Max's lips are, and how perfectly they fuse together, like two pieces of the same puzzle.

She puts her hands on Max's waists, yet they stay there, unmoving because Chloe doesn't want to roam Max's body yet, she restrains herself from doing anything more than kissing because this is Max and she doesn't want to be careless, doesn't want to get carried away.

Max takes a small step and their bodies touch. Chloe marvels at how soft and amorous those lips are, and how light yet incredible the kiss is. Max is sweet, Max feels rougher than she would've thought, but she's still Max and Chloe loves it, loves her.

Max breaks the kiss and Chloe leans forward, following, wanting more of those tasty lips before she realizes what she's doing and stops, resting their foreheads together, breathing the same air.

That's when Chloe realizes the lump in her throat is gone and she can finally speak freely again.

"Max… you're hella cute…"

Max's laugh makes her lean forward, so Chloe has to take a step back. "You say that like you're all hard edges and barb wires…"

"I thought I was…?" She tries to look at Max's eyes and feels another flutter in her chest when she finds that those blue eyes are dazed and half-lidded. It hadn't even been that deep of a kiss…

Max shakes her head and her brown hair tickles Chloe's chin. "No, you're… you're Chloe. You're, um, stars in a black sky, cool night air, leathers, small spaces…" Max takes a step back, but her hands never leave Chloe's shoulders. Max blinks a couple of times, her brows furrowing as she searches her eyes. "Umm, does that make sense?"

And now it's her turn to laugh because holy shit, Max is just as hopelessly in love with her as she is with Max, and that's great because now they can be in love together, she can't believe this is happening and sort of wants to pinch herself and figure out if this is a dream, but then she dispels that thought because no kissing dreams have ever felt that good.

"It makes no sense."

Yeah, as I've said, I like LiS. Like, I really, really like LiS it should be considered unhealthy.

Originally, the box of secrets is supposed to be a chest of secrets, but I feel like people are going to get the wrong idea if the summary for this story is "Chloe finds Max's chest of secrets." … not to mention it's inappropriate.

Also, I kind of like writing in this present-tense, "rambling" style, and at least for one-shots, I'm going to keep writing this way, because it's fun.

Tell me if there's something in my writing you think I need to improve on because there's always room for improvement :P I take all kinds of constructive criticism.

I hope you have a good day, and… see ya~