Chapter One: After The Storm

Night has always pushed up day

You must know life to see decay

But I won't rot, I won't rot

Not this mind and not this heart,

I won't rot.

Max Caufield didn't like loud bars. That's why her bar of choice was Lips, a tiny lesbian bar situated in one of the more out of the way spots of Portland. Many people would say the entire city of Portland was 'hipster'. However, after living in the city for six years Max had explored nearly every nook and cranny, making her 'hipper than the average hipster'.

Max walked towards the bar, hands stuffed in her pockets. She had never gotten over her general shy demeanor and usually only felt comfortable at Lips after a few drinks in her system. Her eyes lit up when she spotted that the bartender was one of her favorites, Jane.

"Hey there Max! Wanna be my lab rat tonight?" Jane asked cheerfully.

"Lab rat?" Max raised an eyebrow.

"I made a new drink. Very fruity, strawberry, coconut… I think it's great. I just need some expert opinions." Jane always exuded confidence and cheerfulness. Something Max hoped would rub off on her.

Max reached inside her messenger bag for her wallet.

"Oh no way, Maxine! On the house, I insist. Sit down and I'll make it for you."

Max pulled out a wooden barstool and sat down.

"Kind of empty tonight." She remarked.

"Well," Jane said, adding ice to the cocktail shaker, "It's only seven thirty. You know the young folks such as yourself don't come until like nine or ten."

Max glanced at the jukebox currently blasting Melissa Ethridge while an older butch woman slow danced with a tall femme with blonde hair almost reaching her ass. Around the perimeter were a group of tattooed butches huddled around a billiards table.

"Here ya go!" Jane said, setting the drink down in front of Max. It was light red and garnished with an orange and cherry. Jane looked at Max expectantly while she took her first sip. Not too strong, very smooth, and delicious.

"It's great Jane. Just what I needed today."

Jane grinned and clapped her hands together. Max smiled weakly. Jane frowned.

"You seem kind of in the dumps Max. Thinking about Tiffany?" Jane asked gently.

Tiffany was Max's ex-girlfriend, an artist. They had broken up two months ago but had never really been that serious. Max had honestly pushed her from her mind except for the times she would randomly find one of Tiffany's long black hairs in her apartment.

Max shook her head.

It was October 9th, which made Max think of a different girl. One long lost.

Arcadia Bay.

Chloe.

At a lighthouse with a storm raging overhead, Max had made a choice. One life for many. She sacrificed the girl she loved to save a town and the people in it. They had shared one last passionate kiss before Max rewound time for the last time. Two kisses. That was all they ever had. All they ever would.

Of course, Jane didn't know that. Nobody knew about Max's time with the ability to rewind time. Nobody knew about Max's teacher drugging her in a bunker and attempting to kill her. Nobody knew these things because in the timeline Max was in these things never happened.

In this life, Chloe died in a bathroom of a gunshot wound. Mr. Jefferson was caught before he could hurt any more girls. Max had won the "Everyday Heroes" contest and had been offered a scholarship to an elite fine art conservatory in Portland. Everything she ever wanted, right?

Except there was no Chloe.

Sometimes Max's mind would drift off, imagining living in a small apartment with Chloe. They would have only each other. Maybe Max would have been happier with that choice. Still, there was no turning back. There was no way to rewind this time.

"Just the general cool-weather doldrums. No good tinder matches. Seasonal allergies." Max said.

Jane laughed.

"Maybe some punk rock girl will come in here later to warm your bed for the night." She said with a wink.

"You know my type," Max replied.

She drained her glass and waited for the evening to get more interesting.

"I've modeled for soooo many artists around here. Like some really wicked weird stuff too."

This bubbly pink-haired girl had been talking to Max for what seemed like hours. She wasn't sure if the girl was flirting or just wanted another opportunity to model. Max had also already forgotten her name. Shit. What was it? Amber? Ashley?

"Some of my friends think the shoots I've been in are like too racy. Like one of them was like Ansley, that is going TOO far. So, I told her, maybe it wasn't far ENOUGH. You know what I'm sayin?"

Oh yeah, her name was Ansley. Max nodded and made a half -hearted affirmative noise and took a sip of her drink.

"Like I did this shoot with Tiffany Tatum? Like she literally filled this kiddie pool with jello and I laid in it with my tits out. It was so rad. Do you know Tiff?"

Yeah, because every gay artist in Portland knows each other… Except, in this case, Max actually did know her.

"Oh yeah, we dated a little while." She said.

Ansley opened her mouth dramatically.

"Oh my god, you're that Max. You like totally broke her heart. Her expedition right now with all the pictures made of broken glass is about you, right?"

To be honest, the breakup was pretty amicable. Also, Tiffany was working on the broken glass pieces the whole time they were together.

"I think it's more about the fragile state of the universe right now." Max replied curtly.

"Should I even be talking to you right now? Oh my gosh, Tiff would be soooo jealous. Still, I think you're a little dangerous Max. I like danger."

Ansley reached out and playfully swatted Max's arm. Yeah, Max considered herself dangerous, but not in the way Ansley was insinuating.

Max felt her phone buzz in her pocket. She grabbed it and read the text on the screen.

"Giving you an out if you need it."

It was from Jane. Max guessed she sensed how awkward the conversation was becoming. Max sent back a quick "thanks."

"I'm sorry Ansley but I really have to go. I forgot I was supposed to meet a friend and now they're yelling at me via text."

"Aw, I hate to see you go, Max. I really was enjoying our conversation. Please take my number before you go and please text me sometime." Ansley said, reaching into her purse.

She pulled out a monochrome business card. Her name, model, and a phone number.

"I usually give it to business contacts, but I guess it works for cuties at the bar too."

"Thanks, Ansley, see you later."

Or hopefully see you never again.

Max stuffed the card in her bag to be lost amongst all the other scraps of paper and knickknacks. Well, Max's excuse meant she would have to leave the bar now. She looked around as she left and saw all the usual suspects that went to Lips on a weekday night. No one new or interesting. Same old routine.

Max walked out the door into the cool air. She pulled a pack of cigarettes from her bag. She never thought she would be a smoker, but the smell of smoke reminded her of riding down the road in Chloe's truck. Even though Chloe smoked with the window down the smoke would always get in Max's face. It was annoying then, but Max missed it now. he would be a smoker, but the smell of smoke reminded her of riding down the road in Chloe's truck. Even though Chloe smoked with the window down the smoke would always get in Max's face. It was annoying then, but Max missed it now.

Max lit a cigarette and turned towards home. Her apartment was only a few blocks away. However, a figure standing under a lamppost stopped her dead in her tracks. Was thinking so much about Chloe making her see things now? Max could see blue hair and an arm covered in tattoos. Max reasoned with herself. A lot of girls from Portland have blue hair and tattoos. Still, Max stepped closer.

Suddenly, the girl turned towards her. The piercing blue eyes, the nose… those lips. She looked older but still unmistakable.

"What the fuck?" Max muttered.

"Chloe?"

"Max!"