notes: Damn, scarypunkghosts. Back at it again with the late posts :P

Anyway, Anna here. Pay no attention to my being a cringe-worthy meme and direct your focus to Chapter 10! A lot of interesting things develop in this chapter; a few things are clarified, and a few things remain mysterious. Other than that, Chapter 10 is mostly chopped full of angst/fluff and pop culture references :P Enjoy!

November 13

Chloe Price

"You're late."

Max stands in the parking lot of Blackwell Academy, her arms folded over her new olive green sweater, her feet tapping against dark asphalt. I sit inside my truck, my window rolled down halfway as I take in the miffed look on her face.

"And?" I shrug, but inside, I doubt. Is she really that mad because I'm not here right on time? Max is normally a patient person. Still, when I weigh in the fact that at least twenty minutes have passed since she got out of her last class... Yeah, okay. I'd give her a three out of ten on the scale of pissed-off.

"Try again, Chloe."

I slowly exhale. "Okay. I'm sorry you had to wait for me in the flames of Blackhell longer than you expected to." And because I can't help myself, I smirk at my own joke. "Get it?"

"Whatever." Max shakes her head and looks away. Still, she's obviously trying not to laugh.

Soon she's riding shotgun and we're headed back to my house. Friday nights are ideal to have her sleep over, considering that Max doesn't work on Saturdays and there's no pressure to even consider actually sleeping. The best thing about that is I can keep her up watching Buffy The Vampire Slayer until dawn if I want to. And tonight, I want to.

"You're wearing the skirt you bought at the mall last week." She says once I'm home and we're both walking up the driveway.

"Oh, yeah." I wrench open the front door and saunter in with an exaggerated strut. The dark red skirt flares out, and the choice to tuck an Against Me! shirt into it this morning certainly helped me assimilate it into my punk wardrobe. "It's different for me, but I think I like it."

Max smiles. "I like it, too. I still don't know about...this, though..." She examines the long, comfy sweater with skepticism, pulling it down further over basic black leggings. "Too much style for me to pull off."

I want to tell her how strongly I disagree. You can pull anything off.

"It's a sweater and leggings, nerd. Get over yourself." Not even close.

"Try again, Chloe."

I sigh again, secretly grateful for a second second chance.

"You look...hella good."

After grabbing an early dinner of a couple of sodas and way too many slices of pizza, Max and I wander upstairs to continue our adventures in vampire slaying.

"Alright, Netflix. Show me the best of Buffy." Fingers grazing my laptop's mouse pad, I scroll through each season's choices as we huddle closer together in our makeshift blanket cove. "Oh, this one! If I remember right from when I binge-watched this shit, what's about to happen at this point is really important."

We turn on New Moon Rising. I showed her certain episodes of the series after shopping a week ago, and she seemed interested enough in watching more. It was sort of cute, hearing her comment on the cinematography. "The angles in that fight scene were killer, and the mood lighting was perfect...and don't even get me started on the filters..." I'm excited to hear what she has to say tonight, until-

"Whoa. I can't believe Oz is back after he up and left Willow like that."

I click the pause button right before the introduction ends. Her new analysis causes something in my bones to fester. Thankfully, this time, it's not about Max leaving me five years ago (although Oz does remind me of Max). No, this is apparently about Rachel. That's what my mind's insisting. Because Max made things right between us. Because Oz's vague excuses for going away sound way more like Rachel's. I'd even argue that out of the three, Rachel did it best.

"I mean, he did leave, right?" Max continues, and I try to hear her through the bitter frenzy of my mind. "On one of the last episodes we watched, Oz said something about leaving to find a werewolf's cure. To...discover himself."

"Okay, yeah. You're right. He left, and in my opinion, it was a dick move." God, shut up! "He could've just kept isolating himself during the full moon. Problem solved. And the whole self-discovery thing? What is that even supposed to mean?" You're in too deep and Max is gonna think you're being passive again. "Not to mention he literally banged another wolf." Awesome. Bring up sex. That'll totally let Max know you're shading someone else.

"Chloe, if this is about us-"

"It's not. I promise. Can we just watch the show?"

"Of course." She says as she clicks the play button and the opening credits start. I try to simmer back down by drumming my fingers in time to the theme song and reading actor's names idly. I'm wondering if I should fast-forward when—

"Hey, who's this?"

"What?"

"On your home screen. I accidentally picked up your phone-"

"Christ, Max! Pay attention next time!" I crack, giving into a knee-jerk reaction and practically hissing as I snatch the phone away defensively.

Max freezes. Says nothing. Blinks once. Like a doe in headlights.

She's scared, you jerk. Do something.

"Rachel Amber." I finally surrender, muscles loosening, the name on my lips coming out less sour and more bittersweet. "That's her name."

"Wait, didn't she used to-"

"Go to Blackwell? Charm everyone she met? Hang out with my sorry ass because my childhood best friend moved away? Check, check, and check."

"I...I, u-um..." Max fumbles and stutters, completely stunned. "I recognize the name, is all. This whole town seems to have known her. And then there's me."

"It's not your fault." I manage to cut Max a bit of slack. "She was popular, sure. But most of those people who claim they were super close with her? They're reaching." I sigh. "Rachel was as mysterious as they come. She had plenty of secrets."

"How do you know? I mean, if they were secrets."

"Rachel trusted me." Though I remember she never bothered to tell me about her other relationship with Frank... "She trusted me with most things, anyway. I had to find out myself that she was seeing our drug dealer."

"Oh." Max says flatly. She awkwardly clears her throat before continuing. "That sucks. Were you worried about her?"

I scoff. "Worried? Maybe. Jealous? Definitely."

Max takes a moment to process everything before she comes to the conclusion I've been dreading. How stupid of me to give her so many hints. To admit that I was jealous of Frank. I couldn't be more obvious.

"Sounds like you totally crushed on Rachel."

"Everybody did." Maybe the ice in my voice will void everything I just said. Or, my thoughts suggest, you could fuck up again and melt your own damn ice. Slave to the strange twinge of vulnerability that comes with talking to Max, my next words are way too soft and way too sad. "You would have, too."

I might as well have just told Max that existence is meaningless and death is inevitable, because she's got that serious weight of the world look on her face that she tends to get whenever she processes something.

"Uh, Earth to Max? My heartache. Not yours. It's fine."

I'm lying through my teeth and I think she knows, but she doesn't push it. Still, she glances up at me. Looks long and hard. Like there are words on the tip of her tongue that she's still taste-testing.

"What?" I open the conversation back up, against my better judgement, waiting for what will probably be my best friend's sweet but useless sympathy.

"Have you ever thought about moving on?"

I wasn't expecting advice. I didn't know how to respond to the question. I didn't know how to let go of Rachel. Of course, I didn't know how to hold on to her, either. Because she left. But she never really did.

Just like Max never really left. Just like the memories of when we were young remain, still tacked up in my consciousness, still tucked away in my dresser in the form of old scribbled drawings and dusty photos.

Max. You've always been here. I'm looking into her eyes and it's almost as if I'm making the connection between the girl she was and the girl she is for the first time since she returned. It's almost as if, surprisingly, I'm losing track of what we were even talking about. Then I'm taken back by my own response.

"I guess we all have to move on at some point."

"Oh." Max's breath hitches. It's so quiet in the room that I can hear it in surround sound.

Is this moving on? I remember the ridiculous display she put on at the diner back in October, feebly flirting with me, so nervous she couldn't even withstand my gaze. Now, all I can see is the sapphire of her irises, and it's her bravery that keeps them in view for the next few seconds. No. This isn't moving on. Not completely. I think we've stopped. I think you've made time stop.

"So, New Moon Rising. Is it about Willow moving on?"

"Huh?" My eyebrows crinkle before it occurs to me that the two of us have managed to venture down the longest rabbit trail this side of the Bay. Sure, there may be things between Max and I that are yet to be said, but right now, there are also fictional vampires yet to be staked.

"Ah, right. Buffy." I wave the mouse over my laptop screen, which had dimmed while we were talking.

"You didn't answer me. Is that what the episode is about?"

"I'm not giving you spoilers."

"Come on!"

"Nope. You'll find out for yourself."

I resume the show, but between thinking about Rachel and thinking about Max, my attention span is pretty much shot.

Then it's solely thinking about Max.

Then it's dazing above a floating mental image of a moment ago.

Then it's confusing. Really confusing.

I find myself wishing for some way to express it, express this, whatever it is. I'm wishing I could do what I always do and speak before I think. I'm wishing for my normal bravado, and I'm cursing the fact that maybe it's Max who stole it. I'm on the brink of wishing I could be high right now, if only to relax me enough to the point where I'd just blurt everything out.

But for once, I decide I actually don't want weed. I think that if (or when) I tell Max I might be into her, I'll wanna be sober for that.