My addition to the growing Life is Strange archive, one I enjoy perusing often.

I do not own Life is Strange, nor any of its Affiliates

Throngs of half-lit, darkened, half-lit, darkened dancers - some of whom Max recognized as her more popular classmates - moved and pulsated in time to the steady beat of trap music. It was hardly the kind of genre the young 'hipster' enjoyed listening to, but thought it appropriate given the circumstances; she briefly entertained the idea of Bright Eyes playing in the loud, undulating pool auditorium, and smiled at the errant thought.

So this was the Vortex Club.

She had held a certain image of it in her mind: large, sweaty boys and scarcely dressed, sweaty girls, more sweat, an air of impending regret. The viral video taken of Kate Marsh's sexual promiscuity flashed fleeting across Max's mind, and she cringed. Knowing everything that happened, she could guess that at least two or more people in the crowd had been privy to the filming - had let it happen. Disdain for no one in particular weighed heavy in Max's chest as she glanced around the room once, twice, three times, looking and finding no one she truly knew.

Why had she come? Remembering back to her and Chloe's late night pool session, the memory of the clipboard came back to her, how she penned in her own name while expunging several others. The reason behind her actions was unclear to her. Did she truly want to be here? Derisive among strangers and entirely underdressed? With a small sense of foreboding, she scanned her unimpressive blue jeans and pink doe shirt, emblazoned with the word Jane, then to the young women around her. Max looked as out of place as she felt.

Turning to leave, her eyes traced the poster on the blue-tiled wall: End of the World Party, it read, and Max guffawed at just how right it was. She thought back, in the grim silence of her mind, to the inescapable grey tornado, and how it loomed over the comparatively insignificant light house. A doomed resignation suffused her, only strengthened by her contempt for the unwitting young dancers around her. Max saw the twin doors leading outside and began heading in that direction, content to call it a night.

Her curiosity was thoroughly satisfied.

"Well, if it isn't the selfie hoe of Blackwell," someone behind her said, and immediately Max was familiar with the taste of that venom. The snake it belonged to sidled up beside her, furrowing her perfect brow in distaste. "What are you doing here, Caulfield?" Victoria Chase slurred. In her hand was an empty red solo cup.

"I was just about to leave, so…" Max shouldered her way past the blonde, only to be stopped again as Victoria slid in front of her, blocking her way to the exit. Caught unawares by the sudden movement, Max nearly slipped on the wet floor. Victoria bared her teeth in a cattish grin, indulging her prey a few seconds of relief before she spoke up again:

"I said, what are you doing here? Who put you on the guest list?"

Max recalled the similar confusion shared by the bouncer upon her entrance as she replied, "I don't know, but they let me in. Just do whatever you want Victoria, I'm going. Don't let me stop you from having an awesome night." Her confidence was slipping, and she knew that if the confrontation were to continue, tears would come unbidden to her big blue eyes.

"What a fucking mystery. I bet you blew the bouncer," Victoria laughed, crossing her arms, placing all her weight on one leg. She wore quite the revealing bathing suit, most of her upper and lower body bared to the world. It was black with gold sequins, and looked expensive. Max recoiled at the comment, disgusted by the accusation. "Listen, you're coming with me." Victoria grasped Max's wrist, her grip firm and unyielding despite the other girl's protestations. "Come on, don't," hiccup, "make this harder than it needs to be."

Max wondered what fresh hell Victoria was planning to subject her to, what new embarrassment; would she be humiliated like Kate Marsh? Suddenly, Max was thankful that she had rejected all the drinks offered her. Undrugged and unhappy, she was dragged along behind Victoria as she made her way past several inquisitive onlookers. Only when they had made it to the doorway did Max realize where she was being taken: the girl's locker room.

"Why are we going in here?"

"To talk," Victoria replied, more civil than Max had expected. The tension in her chest eased as they passed several rows of lockers, then came to a stop by a graffitied wall. Victoria steeled herself with a deep breath, and said, "Listen, I'm not the worst enemy you have out there. You're lucky I found you first. If it had been," hiccup, "Nathan fucking Prescott, you'd be as good as done." Victoria's expression was surprisingly soft; maybe alcohol had a mollifying effect on her, Max thought.

"I guess I should thank you," she replied, her words belying how she truly felt. Regardless of whether or not Victoria was trying to 'help' her, she didn't appreciate the title 'Selfie Hoe of Blackwell', and thought to mention it before Victoria interrupted her thoughts.

"You know, if you wanted to join the Vortex Club, you could've," a small belch escaped her lips, "asked me. I would've said no, but it'd be better than you sneaking around. Did you really expect to not crash into me here, I practically run this place," Victoria finished, her blue eyes unfocused. She wavered slightly. Taking the initiative, Max helped her down onto a bench, sitting down beside her. "I think I might have had too much to drink. Eggnog and fireball whisky is an awful fucking combination - you can't even taste the alcohol. And who drinks eggnog outside the winter months? Seriously," Victoria smiled, and Max soon found herself smiling as well.

"Do you think you're going to be sick?" she queried. The toilets were only a short walk away, and Max didn't want her clothes getting ruined; beyond that, she considered Victoria something of a friend, if you stretched that word to the moon and back. The blonde shook her head; it was a slow, groggy motion.

"I know my limits."

Suddenly Victoria turned herself and glanced up at Max, and it was only now that the younger girl realized how close their faces had gotten. A spear of heat shot through Max from her stomach upwards, settling in her cheeks. She flushed a deep red, and even in the dimmed lighting, Victoria noted the change with another cattish grin. Had Victoria always been so damn attractive? She was popular, and it came with the territory, but Max had never noticed the nuances of her features: her heart-shaped lips, trimmed eyebrows and high cheekbones made her appear almost fairy like.

"I'm so drunk," Victoria slurred, as though it were some veiled invitation. Max felt her stomach flip, as though she were just on the edge of doing something rash and unthinkable, moments away from making a split second decision based on nothing but instinct and desire. Victoria's gaze made a lazy trail upwards as she inspected Max's outfit, ending on the younger girl's pursed lips; their hands were touching.

Though she lacked grace, Victoria leaned in, her eyelids fluttering closed. Max immediately retreated; the look on the other girl's face as she opened her eyes felt like a knife to her gut, but she knew that if she wasn't strong now, she'd lose her integrity.

"You don't get to be mean to me, and then… and then…" Max stammered, shaking her head. Victoria's clouded expression read shame and vulnerability. "... and then try to… kiss me." The blonde turned away, facing the empty locker room. Outside, the dulled din of music and conversation seemed louder somehow, as if to occupy the sudden uncomfortable silence. Max considered rewinding, to accept Victoria's advances, but thought better of it. It wasn't too late to salvage the situation. "Ever since we met you've had it out for me, and I don't know why. I've only ever been kind to you, and you walked all over that kindness without remorse. Did you ever once think how it felt? To be called names? To be rejected by someone you wanted as a friend? Regardless of how you treated me, I care about you Victoria. Maybe you shouldn't have tried to take advantage of that just now."

More silence, and that same tension again. Without warning, Victoria's shoulders began to shake with quiet sobs. Max's heart twinged, and she placed a hand on her downturned chin; with gentle pressure, she brought Victoria to face her again. Tears ran down her cheeks in steady rivulets, gathering at Max's fingers. She sighed.

"That doesn't mean that I don't want you," Max continued, a bit frightened at her own words. Victoria's frown gave slightly as she met the other girl's eyes. Gathering her courage, Max captured Victoria's mouth in her own, opening her firm, wet lips; her inexperience was clear, but Victoria was more than receptive. The blonde cupped Max's cheek tenderly, tilting her head to better connect with the younger girl. As the kiss ended, pendulating, Victoria moved for another, and then another. She tasted sickly sweet with hints of bitter alcohol, but Max decided that it was a good taste. Though her first kiss belonged to Chloe, this one was better, deeper, more passionate.

Victoria moaned into Max's mouth, grabbing her by the waist to pull her closer. Their chests met, dual heartbeats in rhythmic tandem. The kiss continued, Victoria grew bolder, Max refused to shy away as her partner's tongue darted out to meet her own. Their teeth bumped together, enamel scraping enamel, and a small laugh was shared between them. As Victoria drew back, her tears were gone, expression brightened by a wide smile.

"You fucking lesbian," she chided.

Though they were far from friends, Max knew deep inside herself that there was potential, and room to grow. She hoped Victoria would grow with her.

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