'Chloe was right,' Max begins to think, cold sweat breaking out on her skin, chest thrumming nervously with the rampage of her heart against her ribs. 'Rachel really is something.'
A soft little giggle cuts the air, cuts right through the shallow exhale of Max's breaths. The contrast is astounding; whereas Rachel's breathing is collected and easy, Max struggles to catch her breath between little exhales. Oddly enough, Max isn't sure why she's so nervous. She just is. It happens sometimes, when she's unsure of what she's doing, when she's faced with something she never thought she'd be doing in a million years in her time as a photographer.
Or, you know, maybe it's just the fact that she has Arcadia Bay's most gorgeous, talented girl laying down half naked in front of her.
"Come on. Where's that daredevil Chloe swears she sees in you?" Rachel's tone is light hearted, playful, and she licks her lips - Max tries very hard not to think about how her pink tongue runs over her shimmery lip gloss, and how that might make a good photo, too - and the small hipster can physically feel her resolve wavering, any last sense of comfort dissolving immediately.
Oh, god. Why is she doing this again?
'Ugh, that's right. You promised Chloe you'd get to know her better - and plus, Max, you can't say no to a free photoshoot with a great model.'
Rachel raises a brow at Max and smiles, too gently. Max is fairly positive that even while her social skills are lacking, she's not imagining the mischievous edge to that little curve of her lips. She doesn't really get it- until she realizes she's been staring at the blonde while lost in her thoughts, and the girl abruptly lowers her gaze to the camera in her hands, shuffling her feet.
"Well, Maxie?" The endearing nickname does absolutely nothing to calm Max's nerves.
"U-Um," Max starts to say, inwardly grimacing at the awful beginning to her words. "On... on my bed, please."
'Oh, jeez, could you be anymore painfully awk...' She chastises herself as her eyes scroll up, only to end up following Rachel again. She watches her graceful movements with an intensity she doesn't even realizes she possesses, holding her breath. Her heart definitely gets lodged somewhere in her throat as she watches her hips sway and she drinks in every inch of exposed, tanned skin. The plaid red contrast of her boy shorts against her skin makes Max flush again, and then Rachel is clearing her throat and smiling cheekily and-
"Oh my god, I'm staring." That is definitely a thought that was meant to stay in her head rather than outside of it, but they tumble out in her haste to say something, and Rachel laughs again.
"That you are, Maxie." The model stretches out on Max's bed, on the sheets that the photographer - with help from Rachel, of course - had specifically picked out for this occasion, black satin sliding smoothly over her skin and causing Max's attention to waver once more, the slow burn in her cheeks not fading in the least. She scratches at her neck and breathes, shutting her eyes.
"Are you, uh, ready?" Max manages to ask, trying her best to keep her eyes off Rachel now, hands fumbling nervously with William's old camera in her hands. She should be using something more professional, if she's doing a shoot like this, but Rachel had all but insisted on this.
( "It's kind of your thing, right? Then I'm positive you'll do a good job with it." Rachel had insisted when Max had gone to borrow a camera from the photography room, her expression bright as she pushed Max's polaroid back into her fingers. )
"Ready when you are." Rachel winks, but then she's getting into position, and Max honestly appreciates it despite the small heart attack she's having. She's never seen it, but Rachel takes her talent seriously. It's an honor to see it in action.
... if she were actually staring at her, anyways. The way Max is right now, she ends up just aiming her camera at Rachel's general direction and snapping a picture, the flash illuminating Rachel's perfectly posed body for a split second. Max takes the photo and shakes it out of reflex - she knows she's kind of not supposed to do that so quickly, but she's nervous and does so anyways - before bringing it up to check on it.
She makes a face. "Ugh, grody-"
"I hope you're not talking about me." Rachel cuts in playfully, and Max blinks and quickly tries to remedy her words, "No, no, uh-"
"I'm kidding, Max." Rachel winks again at the girl who's way too focused on the awful quality of her photo. "You're the photographer here, so why don't you try another one?"
Max sighs softly and sets the wasted film aside. "Okay."
With her camera between her sweaty fingers, she snaps one more. Two, three. They all come out as awful as the first, and Max stops just to thread her fingers nervously in her own hair, shutting her eyes. God, she feels a headache coming on.
"Are you cereal..."
"Hey, Max." Rachel calls out while she watches the girl have what she thinks must be a miniature breakdown. Or an aneurysm. Or both, at the same time. She props herself up on her elbows and whistles to catch her attention again. "Maybe you'd have an easier time if you actually looked at me?"
"Uh, what?" Max frowns and swallows softly at the accusation.
"I don't know," Rachel looks like she's getting up, and Max almost freaks out a little more at that. "It just makes sense that you've having a difficult time because you can't even look at me."
"Listen, Rachel-"
"- What, you didn't sign up for this kind of shoot?" Rachel watches Max grab at her arm, shoulders hunching up a little. She looks so fragile, so nervous and small that she genuinely chuckles underneath her breath. Now she knows why Chloe's always talking about her, why Chloe had always talked about her, even before she came back. There's something adorable in Max's awkward shuffle, in the worried sweep of her eyes.
"You're going be a photographer! You should get used to trying new things, taking new risks." There's a long pause that Rachel assumes is Max searching for the right words to say and trying to say them without stumbling. She softens up and tucks her hair behind her ears.
Max, on the other hand, is so embarrassed she thinks she might lose it. Rachel's right, but if there's one thing Max didn't expect, it was to be photographing Rachel in almost nothing. Rachel is so, so much more gorgeous than she thought; it's no wonder why everyone loves her, as damn cheesy as that sounds. And Max isn't really used to dealing with half naked stranger on the daily.
The last person she'd seen almost nude was Chloe, and that was when they'd broken into the swimming pool. She hears shuffling and sucks in a breath, wondering if Rachel is putting on her clothes, oh, god-
"W-Wait-" Max turns her head and her mouth, if possible, dries up even more than before.
Rachel is wearing her gray sweater.
... Rachel is wearing her gray sweater, half zipped up, red bra visible in the opening.
It fits perfectly, as expected. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she recalls what Chloe said about them being the same size, and she was right. But somehow Rachel makes it look nicer, the jacket cutting off just at the waistband of her underwear, her long legs folded up underneath her. The pretty expanse of Rachel's exposed collarbone looks marvelous against the dull gray fabric. The sleeves aren't rolled up, cutting off at her wrists and looking the slightest bit baggy - stretched out from how often Max has them at her forearm.
The room temperature in the room suddenly feels like it's skyrocketed, and Max makes this noise, soft and small before she can stop it.
Rachel runs a hand through her hair, shifting it back and smiling coyly at Max. That stupid cheshire smile Max thought she could only see on Chloe's stupid face, being directed right back at her by this model. They really are the perfect pair.
"I thought that if I covered up a little, maybe that'd help you out."
"Oh."
Rachel says nothing in response to that, still watching Max with avid amusement. She reclines on her elbows again on Max's bed and tilts her head, hair falling like a golden curtain over her shoulder. "Is this better?"
Max thinks she feels sweat drip down her neck, and she wants to shed her jacket badly, the heat nearly unbearable. She knows for sure that's not her room's fault, and so she tries to ignore it and instead just rolls up her jacket a little, shifting her camera between hands to do both sides. More stretched out cuffs. Whatever. "I... I can work with that." Her voice is uneasy and thick.
"Perfect." Rachel hums softly, and Max just stares again, and she decides that Rachel would look so much prettier with the glow of the sunset shining on her from the window. Before she knows what she's doing, she's walking forward and opening the window, fingers trembling a little. Rachel tilts her head curiously and then smiles at the action. "You really know how to work with your lighting, huh, Max?"
"Yeah, well, that's kind of my job. I-I'm no pro, though." Max finally works through an entire sentence and then paces around, trying to find the perfect angle, sapphire eyes locked on Rachel's form despite the heat across her own freckled cheeks. Rachel seems content to wait patiently, and then Max finds the perfect angle and grabs for her camera.
Max allows herself to think that Rachel looks so damn gorgeous, framed in the sunlight on her black sheets and in her gray jacket.
This time, Max starts taking pictures and she doesn't stop. The atmosphere is different when Max is taking pictures; she isn't entirely relaxed, but the tension washes off with every single click of the shutter and every developed photo. Rachel is good at switching her poses on time, good at knowing where to go and when to go, good at just moving with her, just like a real model.
Once Max is done, she licks her dry lips and shakes out the last photo. There's at least twenty polaroids on her desk, and at some point, Rachel's ended up on her couch after they cleared out her stuff.
Rachel yawns and stretches against the cushions, arms behind her head. She eases up, clearly out of the zone now that Max has made it clear it's over, but there's a satisfied smile gracing her lips. With one eye popped open, she watches as Max heads over to her desk to set the last photo on the desk.
"We totally done for the night, Mad Max?"
"Yeah, I think so... it's kind of late, but we got some pretty great shots." Max crosses her arms, staring down intently at the shots. They...definitely aren't her style, but they look amazing. And she took them. Every single shot of Rachel in her sweater, ranging from those with it on to it coming off- Max covers her face and looks away.
"Are you positive we got everything?" Rachel questions nonchalantly, and Max stiffens and turns, confusion and concern in her gaze.
"I... think so? Is there something else you wanted?" Max questions cautiously, worried, now. Her work wasn't the best, but it was enough, wasn't it? And plus... while Rachel was a very workable model, Max was already so far out of her comfort zone she had to wonder what else Rachel wanted.
Rachel waves her over, and Max ignores the way her open jacket shifts against her at the motion. She steps closer to Rachel, camera still in her hand.
"Aren't you like, the selfie ho?"
"... Oh." Max can't keep from rolling her eyes, but she does lean down anyways, much to Rachel's delight. "Did you get that from Victoria?" She mumbles as she lifts the camera in front of them, and Rachel loops her arm around Max's neck, sitting up. Max inhales a little too quickly and steadies her hand.
"So Victoria got to that nickname first? Unfair, Maxie. That was all me."
And then Max is startled when Rachel reaches over with her other hand, slipping her finger over Max's and pressing down on the shutter, because suddenly there's something warm and soft against her cheek, and Max looks absolutely dumbstruck for the second time that night.
As the photo pops out, Rachel snags it and releases her grip on Max, bouncing up from the couch. It's not very hard, considering the fact that Max is frozen stiff, because, 'Oh my god, what just happened?'
She flashes Max an award winning smile, shaking out the photo and slipping it into the pocket of her jacket. Within moments she's already scooping up her shorts from the floor, pulling them on. There's a zip of a jacket and then Rachel is at the door, leaning against the frame and shooting another glance behind her.
"Thanks for the shoot, Max! Make some copies for me, alright?"
The door closes and she is gone.
Max blinks a few times, lifts a hand to touch her hot cheeks, and then bites her lip and finds a low groan slipping out from her throat. Her breath is staggered, idiotically so, and she just drops onto the couch and drops her head against the wall, almost dizzy.
Her fingers dig out the polaroid thrust into her pocket, and she finally, finally finds the courage to look at it: a photograph of Rachel Amber kissing her cheek.
"I'm so fucked." She whispers hoarsely to herself, dropping it next to her.
"... she took my jacket, too."
Another groan ripples through the air.