"Just five more minutes, please."
"Maybe you should, I dunno, fucking stop." Chloe pulled my hood off my head. My hair had to be an out of place mess right about now. I groaned, mumbling "five more minutes" as I lifted my head again.
Her face was annoyed yet had a smile, amused at me, because I woke up on my desk for the millionth time. I inspected where I was: surrounded by coffee cups, paper assignments, and way too many polaroid films. Like every morning, I had no clue how or when I fell asleep, but judging her by face, it probably wasn't a pretty sight.
"You look like shit," she patted me on the back, "worse than usual."
"Gee," I rubbed my eyes, "Thanks."
Waking up again was one of the hardest things to do. Sometimes, I rub my eyes for so long, I start to see colors and trip out. From what I could tell from my desk (and past experiences), I was working on assignments for classes and passed out in the middle of it. My desk described how I felt on the inside—a fucking mess. It wasn't a negative thing if it was honest and Chloe told me all the time.
The plethora of coffee cups was thanks to her and getting a job as a barista at Starbucks. I could get all the drinks I wanted and drown in it, which would be any college student's dream. I thought about how I might have a problem with it, only to ignore it and ask for another one.
"Max-tress, how in the fuck are you stressing out this much?"
I wish I knew. It was only my third quarter and I felt like three semi-trucks hit me simultaneously while I was on fire. The three trucks stood for my assignments and the fire represented my ongoing pile of debt. I was lying to myself; I had the unhealthy habit of waiting a day before class to do my work.
"By the way, it's seven-fifty." Chloe said last.
I shot up from my seat, "What?! I'm going to be late! Why couldn't you tell me earlier?!"
"You looked cute while you were asleep, didn't want wake you up."
I groaned and gave her a weak punch on the shoulder. Her shameless flirting didn't affect me anymore, especially not when I had something else to worry about. I grabbed my bag and headed to the front door, not even caring about how I was still wearing white pajama pants and my college's sweatshirt in springtime weather.
Chloe was in her uniform of all-black and a green apron, twirling her keys on her finger with a sly smirk on her lips, swaggering over.
"Damn, four weeks left and you looked like you hit rock bottom ten times. That has to be a new record."
"At least I accomplished something this quarter."
"What's that?"
"Hitting rock bottom only ten times. Last quarter was twenty."
"That's hella sad, Max."
Yup, that was me. Max Caulfield, Academy of Art student, photography major, design minor, and on my seventh week of my third quarter. And she was Chloe Price, childhood friend, asshole, all-around punk who knew how to make a mean expresso. We both moved together to San Francisco, not only to start a new chapter in our lives, but to get the fuck out of Arcadia Bay. It wasn't a bad place, per say, but there wasn't much over there, nothing there for us.
Luckily for us, her work was five minutes away from my school and I could just walk in like most students. On the downside, our apartment was thirty minutes away.
Most of our drive was me with my arms crossed, looking out the window, and being mad. I wasn't too mad because it didn't matter to be late anymore, but it was more her not waking me up. For the first time, I had to walk into class with my pajamas on and whatever excuse I had to offer.
I overslept? I was working so hard I lost track of time? My friend's an ass and she's the real reason I'm late? Possibilities were endless.
"Still, you shouldn't be stressed out. You only have two classes."
"I'm doing fine, Chloe." I replied. In that moment, my mind flooded with all the reasons why I was not fine.
However, this class I could not miss. It was Design Fundamentals to finally start my minor. It had been full for the other two quarters and I could not repeat it, or any classes for that matter.
We arrived at my school. To make this worse, my school was a large gray building in a busy city area. It was always filled with cars, moving or parked, right next to the slowest stoplights I've ever seen. It was a five-story and, even worse, my class was at the very top. I hopped out of Chloe's car, not wasting any more time.
"Have fun in your nerd class." Chloe said with a smirk.
"Have fun dealing with customers." I retorted. She lost her smirk after that; I won that.
At least the elevator was available. I was overheating in my clothes, even when I pushed my sleeves up. I've been in more embarrassing scenarios—most of them for being nosy—though I would prefer to not remember them. When the elevator sounded and the doors slid to the sides, what I saw was the hall of doom. The path moved in a square, classes on both sides, and on the other side of the building was the other elevator. One of the reasons I hated being late was the feeling that overcame me when I had to walk in. It made my heart pound, my chest hurt, and vision blurry.
Maybe I shouldn't go into class today? I don't want to be stared at. I should give up now. I could turn around and pretend I was never here! I still had time!
My room was 910 at the end of the hall. I would've left already, pressing the elevator button with urgency or running down the stairs—whichever came first. Before I was halfway, I did, spinning around and rushed the elevator, jamming my thumb into the button over and over. I rushed into it as soon as it opened, pushing a different button just to close the doors again.
I hyperventilated through my mouth, clutching my chest.
Shit… I'm better off missing it. I could always catch up next class. This is my second absence. Stupid "miss three, class gets dropped" rule… I'll be fine.
My body relaxed as I walked into Starbucks, meeting Chloe's eyes behind the counter. Stunned silence came over us as she registered it was me at the door, now purposely late to class. I took two steps forward, clutching my bag, ready to explain to her why I was there.
"Nope," instead of walking through the door on the side, she jumped over the counter, "You're going to class."
"Chloe—"
"Nope," she grabbed my shoulders and turned me around, "You're going back."
She pushed me towards the door; My feet squeaked against the floor. "Wait-wait-wait-wait-wait!" I hated that we were attracting attention. My heart throbbed, spinning out of her grip, "I can't, Chloe."
She looked from side to side, groaning and pulling me to the breakroom. She grasped my shoulders as soon as the door closed. "Okay, you stay here. When I think break happens, I'm taking you there."
She left out, slamming her hand into the door. I sat down in one of the breakroom chairs, staring around at the corkboard covered in papers on one wall and a refrigerator with "Emptied Every Friday" taped to the front.
That was the only bad thing about me missing class. Old Chloe would've been fine with me skipping, in fact, she would've been "hella proud," she would say. Chloe had a lot of growing to do ever since we left and wanted me to do some growing too. I groaned and rested my head in my arms. Having this issue, this illness, was hard.
Before I knew it, Chloe was holding my hand, taking me back to school. Class was on break, Chloe went on break, and I was having mixed feelings. I got what I wanted, but there was always a hint of regret. Telling myself, you're so dumb. You could've went to class and you would've been fine. What were you so worried about?
Taking the elevator, she made sure our hands were still together. I wasn't sure if it was to make sure I didn't run or she knew that it helped me. I saw room 910 again and I took a deep breath.
"Just two hours, 'kay?" She let me go, folding her arms over her chest. I nodded.
I grabbed my ID and put it against the scanner, unlocking loudly. She left as I grabbed the handle, waving goodbye. I entered, only two people were inside: one girl and the teacher. Both turned their attention to me.
"Morning, Miss Caulfield, do you have an excuse?"
They asked that whenever any student was late. I felt myself lock up and letting my heartbeat take over. I took a few steady deep breaths, clutching my bag's strap, "Overslept."
They looked me up and down, saying, "I believe it. Take a seat. We haven't done much. You're lucky it's a work day."
The weight on my entire body lifted off. I went to a seat in the back of the room with no backpack or papers on the desk, covered by the three other rows. Thank dog my usual seat was still available.
The class was fun, really, but… that girl sitting in the front. Whenever I did come to class early, she was always there, alone, and drawing in her sketchbook. Other than this class, I always saw her with a group of friends by the filming classes or in the cafeteria room. The same thought went through my mind, she's so pretty. On the first day, she smiled at me, and since then I couldn't bring myself to speak to her. I just called her "bun girl," because her blonde hair was always up.
I kept my cool and just told myself every single class that I was going to talk to her eventually. Maybe I'll even have another class with her. Then again, what are the chances I will? She could have a different major. Maybe she's a film major. That could be why she's by the film classes all the time.
Two hours of working on doodles instead of working on the real assignment was something I loved to do. Not even in my sketchbook, but in my composition notebook. It was ripped, missing pages, covered in different pen colors, stickers, and all margins were filled with doodles of badly drawn memes and sometimes people around me. Class was always loud and everyone was so… social. Was I jealous? No, being alone was okay. I'm fine… I'm fine.
"Okay, class! That's it for today! That makes this the end of week seven for us!"
Like everyone else, I packed my things and left behind them. Except for the girl, she was always the last one. I took the elevator once everyone on the floor had gone. Instead of going back to Starbucks, as Chloe would hate to see me again, I went to the library, the largest room in the whole building. Chloe told me before to "go read or some shit."
The library was very open and had lots circular tables that could fit up to six people. There were also rectangular tables for classes that may have to do lecture there. Next to the tables were the rows upon rows of bookshelves of any topics and subjects known to man. The left wall was also lined with more bookshelves. I always went to the row with all the books about how animation movies are made aka, the closest row to the door.
As I walked up and down the aisle, I heard the entrance open and close. I didn't think much of it until I looked over and saw it was the girl. She just so happened to sit at a table that looked right into the aisle I was in. I grabbed a random book, The History of Wall-E, and opened it to a random page. I held the book close to my face, but I peeked over it and looked over at her from time-to-time.
It was an opportunity. I could just go talk to her! But I wasn't ready to try. My heart was ready to explode. I've peeked over five times already.
Maybe one more time wouldn't hurt. I was slower this time and looked over. It took a whole five seconds to notice that she was looking back at me.
Shit! I shoved the book closer to my face to hide my shame. Was she smiling at me?! Why did I do this?!
Out of pure panic, I left the book on the shelf and rushed out of there.
I hyperventilated. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck— it repeated like a broken record. I hurriedly left the building went down a couple blocks. I tried to walk into Starbucks as normal looking as I could, but Chloe, being a cashier, saw right through it.
"What the fuck did you do, run?" She raised her eyebrow. I couldn't tell her the truth, so I said yes.
"Damn," she sounded shocked, "You're lucky I'm going on break. I'll take you home."
I nodded "yes" again. I could still see the girl smiling back at me in my mind.
Our drives were always filled with music. We always spoke to each other over loud rock; it was always something about what happened while she was at work. This time, it was about one old woman who got mad about her drink taking forever. Chloe told me she held her tongue this time today and wanted me to be proud of her.
"I am proud of you, okay? I have been since you got a job." I rested my elbow on the console.
"I need money for a truck. I hate these kinds of cars," Chloe huffed, "If I have this car by next year, I am going to lose my shit."
I didn't mind the old Honda. It didn't have a shine, instead, it was still the gray matte finish, with a bunch of dents and scratches. I didn't hate it, but Chloe loved the feel of a truck. She said it made her feel powerful. Makes sense, nothing screamed Chloe more than a pickup truck.
We arrived at our apartment. To be honest, our apartment wasn't that bad. It was on a narrow and steep street, but it was in a relatively nice area with plenty of nice little shops and neighbors around us. It was hard to miss it when the building was tall, blue, and was the only thing with gate around it. Thanks to Chloe's family and my own, they gave us enough to pay rent for two years. We should thank them soon.
"Hey, Chloe, when you're done with work, can I talk to you about something?" I guess I could ask for a little help. Maybe she won't laugh?
"Yeah," she nodded, "Now get out of my car."
I listened to her and got out, heading in quickly. I got into the elevator and hit number five. I couldn't stop thinking about her. She was smiling at me! She must have found me acting like that cute, but I was dying on the inside. Chloe was going to laugh at me for acting like this. She always talked about how gay I was and this just enforced it.
As I got out of the elevator, my phone vibrated. I thought it was Chloe again, but it was a text from an unknown number. It was full of "miss you" and all that junk. It just might be my ex-boyfriend or ex-friend, so I just erased it.
Apartment 180 was our home sweet home. On the inside, our walls were covered in posters and different drawings I've done and many different bands Chloe enjoyed, a tattered couch and a small TV in the living room, a nearly empty kitchen, a small bathroom we had to share, and one room we both slept in. The both of us had slept on the couch at one point or another.
I threw my bag onto the couch and I went into the bedroom. I jumped into bed, hearing the springs under me. I placed my earphones in and, for hours, I stayed on my phone. I never have any memory of what I do on there or what songs I end up listening to. For the rest of my time, I stayed lying on my back and scrolling through the apps I had.
"Max and Ruby!" I heard, along with two pans clanging together. My eyes shot open, my body shook, and I was really disoriented. I must have dozed off. I sat up and my phone lands on my lap and my hair felt out of place.
"You're awake." It was Chloe. She dropped the pots on the floor, crashing against the wooden floorboards. Everything was so blurry; I had to blink many times before I said anything back to her.
"Welcome back," I greeted her, "How was work?"
"Same shit," she shrugged her shoulders, "You fell asleep with your phone on your forehead."
"Oh, thanks." I took my earphones out.
"So, you wanted to talk?"
"R-right," I gulped dryly, "I did ask that, didn't I?"
"Don't back out on me now, Max."
"I'm not!" I stood up and left into the living room. All the lights were on, the only noises I could hear were from the other apartments around us, like TVs or footsteps walking around. It's not too important. "You're gonna laugh at me."
"Depends how embarrassing it is." She pressed her lips to stop a smile. "You can trust me! Hell, I told you everything."
"You really didn't have to tell me every single time you rubbed one out to your favorite characters."
"I told you because we're best friends! Come on, Maxie."
"Fine," I cleared my throat, "I need help talking to someone."
"What's funny about that?"
"It's a girl in my class today. She sits in the front and I haven't been able to go up and talk to her. She makes me all... mixed up. I was out of breath earlier because I saw her in the library and she saw me back and she smiled—"
She snickered, clenching her jaw as her lips forced her grin down. "It's not that big of a deal."
"Need I remind you about how Rachel told me how you were a nervous wreck when you first met?"
"I hate her for telling about it. I hate myself for saying I hate her."
Rachel and Chloe had been together for a way long time. If I counted, it would add up all the way to nearly five years together. I've known her for two, but we grew into best friends fast. It didn't take long for me to notice that lots of people were head over heels for her and everyone didn't understand how I was friends with her. I had to thank Chloe for that, but I still question that too. Rachel was Rachel Amber, the number one model and celebrity of our time, travelling around the world being the model she wanted to be. She should be calling Chloe around this time.
Chloe's giggle fit went away and nodded, "All I could really say is to just go up and talk to her? Hell, she might be scared to talk to you too! I know you're hella shy and anxious, but I know you can do it! Just go up to her and be like, "I'm gay for you.'"
I worked up a chuckle, "I can't do that, Chloe." Seriously, I'd die.
"What I'm saying is, you gotta start getting out of your comfort zone. I want you to be happy with a girl and not living off three cups of coffee a day!"
"… Did you bring some?"
Chloe let out a defeated sigh, "Yeah, I bought two. They're in the kitchen."
I didn't have class tomorrow; I spent my time watching TV and chugging down the two cups she brought. I enjoyed it more when it was more cream and sugar than actual coffee.
Maybe Chloe's right. I need to start acting like… a person? Like a normal human who can talk to people?
As I put my hair up in a small ponytail, I watched her go into the bathroom and take a box for a hair clipper out from under the sink. "What are you doing?" I asked her. Now that I notice, her hair was growing out and her strawberry blonde roots were showing.
"Fuck it, I'm bored," she opened the box, dumping everything onto the sink counter, "I'm shaving half my head."
She had made some big changes when we moved. First was making her hair a brighter blue and even threw in some purple close to the roots. Next, in less than a year, her right arm was a complete covered in a whole sleeve. It was a mix of flowers, skulls, and notable ones like a ship wheel on her elbow and an anchor on the back of her hand.
I couldn't help but stare sometimes.
"Do you need help?" I stood at the door.
"No, I'm good," Chloe put her beanie down and started parting her hair, "Would you like one?"
I thought about it. I could make it my first step out of my comfort zone.
"I could get an undercut. If I don't like it, I can hide it under my hair, right?"
"That's the fucking spirit, Max Factor!" She moved most of her hair to the right side.
I watched as she started the clipper and shave off her blue hair, fearlessly and happily.
"Would Rachel like this?" I leaned against the door frame.
"Why wouldn't she like it?"
I suddenly heard her phone ring; her phone was usually on vibrate. It was a loud Firewalk song; I think Chloe told me it was the same one that was playing when they first met.
"Speak of the devil," I grabbed her phone from the bed and answered it, "Hey Rachel."
"Oh, Max! Hey, what's up?" She replied. She was always so energetic, it was contagious. There was something about her voice that made you feel good.
"I'm doing fine. Chloe is shaving a part of her head right now." I leaned on the door frame again.
"Oh nice! Will you send me a picture later?"
"Of course! How was your day?"
"It was good. I'm really tired right now, but modelling never sleeps or waits for anything."
"Where are you right now? Are you still on the other side of the world?" From what I remember, she was in Japan for a show.
"I'm actually in New York! I'm only three hours ahead. I'm getting ready to go out again." She laughed after the last sentence.
"Chloe is almost done." I looked at her, who was still fixing it and seeing if any part of her now-shaven side is uneven. It was hella awesome, like Chloe and Rachel would say.
"Are you going to do it too?"
"Yeah, I had to convince myself, but yeah. She did tell me to get out of my shell."
"I agree! You have to get yourself out there."
"Max is gay for someone!" Chloe hollered over the clipper's buzzing.
"You're what for someone?" Rachel repeated. I started to panic; I couldn't say anything else.
"GAY!"
Chloe, why, why, why.
"Oh! So, you're getting yourself out there, because there's a girl you like?"
I cursed under my breath, but I responded, "That's pretty much it."
Rachel was squealing in excitement, "That's so exciting! Holy shit, I want to help! Who is she?"
Or, I could just hang up on her. I prefer that over letting this conversation go on.
"I spoke to Chloe about it today. I need some time, Rachel. I wouldn't want to scare her away."
"Just tell me everything that happens, okay? I'll help you as much as I can."
"I will. Thanks so much."
"No problem. Tell Chloe to call me back later."
"Sure do, enjoy wherever you're going."
When I put Chloe's phone down, it was my turn. I stood in the bathroom, trusting her with the clipper against my head. She ended up going up too high and it ended right above my ears. I couldn't stop feeling the nape of my neck. It was weird to have the neckline of my hair just gone now.
"That looks hella tight, dude," Chloe complimented, "I fucked up, but it looks good!"
I watched her as she took a selfie in the mirror for Rachel.
"I look fucked up all the time. So, nothing too different." I nodded, "This is already a huge change for me."
"I look fucking good," she flaunted, "And you should feel that way, too!"
"I guess I do feel a little confident."
"Good! When you go talk to her, use that and just be yourself," she reiterated, "but, push yourself a little bit to talk to her. The rest will be history, bitch!"
As vulgar as she was, she was right. If I was sure about it, I had to try. If I don't, I may regret it.