Golden Hour
"Chloe, please don't be mad. But I don't think I can see you for a few days."
The words cut deep into her. "Why?" She says, looking crestfallen. "Have I done something wrong?" She adds. She doesn't understand why.
"No, you haven't." Max says. "I just need to do something, and you can't know what, at least, not right now. I need you to trust me on this."
She caresses Chloe's cheek. "Please, Chlo. It'll be worth it, I promise."
Chloe finds herself capitulating, even though she doesn't want to. "Alright." A voice says, and she's surprised to find it's hers. "But I'm gonna hold you to that."
Max kisses her. "I love you." She says. And then she's walking away, leaving a confused Chloe in her wake.
Chloe blinked, and sat up in bed. She had been dreaming again, the same dream she'd been having for nine days in a row now. Nine days since she had seen her girlfriend of one year. She checked her phone, noting the date. It was the ninth of October, their official one year anniversary.
Yeah, one year, and I don't even know what she's up to or if we're even bothering doing anything. The thought left a surprising amount of resentment lingering inside her. She tried to push it aside, failed, and groaned in frustration.
"The fuck, Max?" She said out loud. "It's not like today is important or anything..."
She fished Max's present out from under her bed, staring at it wistfully. The lens of an expertly refurbished 1986 Polaroid stared blankly back at her. She had taken a couple of test shots already, just to confirm it worked as desired. She had included the photos as a little extra gift, to give Max a little "incentive".
She turned the camera over and studied the bottom of it. A small metal plaque had been attached, by her, with great care and a powerful adhesive. On the plaque it read "For Max. Forever My Superhero."
In spite of her annoyance, Chloe smiled. They had been through so much since they had reconnected, some of it bad, like the craziness and trauma of the events of a year ago, and some good. Chloe thought of the good, and a series of images flashed through her mind; lying on the ground in the junkyard, hand in hand, staring up at a vivid blue sky. A stolen kiss after a night of investigating. Max's face after the first time they made love.
She shook her head, and blinked. She couldn't get lost in the past now, it would just sour her mood. She rolled out of bed and stood up. Her muscles burned pleasantly as they stretched, a reminder of last night's workout. She wandered over to her wardrobe, absent mindedly tugging the edge of her underwear down where it had begun to ride up where it shouldn't.
After retrieving her work uniform from the midst of various tank tops and ripped up jeans, she ambled over to the bathroom, and lazily began her daily routines. As she brushed her teeth, she gazed into the mirror, noting she'd have to re-dye her hair soon.
She stepped into the shower and turned the faucet, sighing happily when the hot water hit her skin. Although all she wanted to do was stay in the hot, steaming torrent and waste the day away, the real world awaited. She washed quickly, and with a slight look of regret, turned the water off. Chloe stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around herself, shivering as the cooling air of October touched her exposed skin.
Upon re-entering her room, she dropped the towel in a heap and collapsed back onto the bed, uncaring that her wet hair was soaking through the pillow. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the LED notification light on her phone blinking insistently. After poking the screen to bring it back to life, her heart jumped, and began performing a violent jazz solo against her ribcage. The blinking light had, of course, been a message from Max. After deliberating for a long moment, curiosity won out over irritation at Max for taking so long to text, and she opened the message.
Max: Hey sweetie, happy anniversary. I know I suck for not texting u for so long, but pls pls don't be too mad at me :(. I know u have work today, but when u finish, come to the lighthouse? I have something to show u. x
Even though Chloe thought the message wasn't quite apologetic enough, she couldn't deny her curiosity was aroused. Had Max been planning something all this time? She wondered to herself.
Any further pondering however, was cut short by Joyce calling up from downstairs, asking if she was ready to go. "Coming, Mom!" Chloe yelled back. She grabbed her bag, and moved to place the camera in it, before hesitating slightly in a moment of indecision. After another moment, she decided against taking it with her, just in case something might happen to it while she was at work.
I can always come back for it later, she thought. She threw on her increasingly worn and now almost threadbare leather jacket, took one last look around her room to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything, then quickly descended the stairs to where her mom was waiting.
Work seemed to simultaneously pass in a blur and also last forever. Chloe found herself on autopilot for most of it, lost as she was in her own head with thoughts of Max. The resentment she had been feeling that morning mostly disappeared throughout the day, replaced with a clinging need to see Max again. Though, an ember of it still remained, lodged deep in the back of her mind, waiting for a flame to bring it back to life.
She re-read Max's message at least a hundred times throughout the day, wondering what Max had in store for her. It got to a point where Joyce threatened to throw her phone in the deep fryer if she so much as brought it out of her pocket again. Chloe grumbled, but acquiesced, although she still couldn't stop thinking about it.
It was a blessing then, when six o'clock rolled around, and Chloe was finally free to go. She clocked out as quickly as possible, wished Joyce goodbye, and tore out of the diner, heading towards her truck in a hurricane of nervous energy.
It only took four minutes to arrive back at her house, which she idly noticed was probably a record. She hadn't even had time to listen to one song on her ancient car stereo. She killed the engine and stepped out onto the drive, heading for the front door. She unlocked it, and swung it open. She immediately noticed a small, rectangular object lying on the floor. On closer inspection, it turned out to be a polaroid. It was of Max, smiling gently, the lighthouse visible behind her. She had obviously taken it earlier that day, and snuck over to Chloe's in order to post it through the letterbox.
Chloe grinned, and stashed it in her jacket pocket, now fully convinced that Max had been playing one hell of a long game.
She barrelled up the stairs, stripping off her uniform as she went. She flung it haphazardly into the wash basket sat on the landing, before bursting into her room. She went straight to her wardrobe, in search of an appropriate outfit. After deliberating for a long while, and tossing many items of clothing onto the floor, Chloe eventually settled on a pair of grey jeans that hugged her figure enough to show off her long legs, and a white dress shirt, unbuttoned just enough to give her a hint of cleavage.
Next, she visited the bathroom, in search of her make-up. It took a few minutes, but eventually she found an eyeliner pencil that was in decent condition, some mascara that she remembered didn't make her look too much like a panda, and some cherry-red lipstick. When she was finished applying everything, she inspected herself in the mirror. She gave it her best bedroom eyes, pleased with the effect she created.
"Girl, you're a knockout." She said to herself.
Satisfied with her appearance, she returned briefly to her room and grabbed the camera, placing it carefully in her bag. Then, she left the house once more, and set off for the lighthouse.
The sun had just begun to set when she arrived, bathing everything around her in a fuzzy golden glow. It looked almost painterly, she mused as she shut off the engine. The lighthouse was a few minute's walk from the parking lot, and as she walked, Chloe became increasingly grateful for the cooling temperatures of fall. If it had been any warmer she would have been sweating like a Canadian after too much Chipotle.
As she neared the lighthouse, her heart rate sped up, and not just because of the brisk pace she was walking at. Just another couple of corners, and she would reach the end of the trees, where Max would undoubtedly be waiting. Rather than anticipate what she might say or see, Chloe decided to focus on the ground in front of her feet, concentrating fiercely on keeping her footing. It was just as well she did, after looking down, she noticed she had almost stepped on a butterfly, startlingly blue in colour.
"Sorry little buddy." She said, and gingerly stepped around it. The butterfly seemed happy enough, content to sit on a stick and wave its wings lazily.
After a sharp but brief incline in the terrain, Chloe cleared the trees. She looked up, squinting slightly into the golden evening night. When her eyes adjusted, she froze, jaw dropping open and her breath caught in her throat.
Max was there, stood next to the bench at the edge of the cliff, staring out to sea. Her hair, obviously freshly dyed, was a shimmering, captivating pink, with the light of the sun adding the effect of a bright white corona around the edges. Chloe had the sudden mental image of a pink rose with white petal tips. It seemed appropriate.
Her eyes drifted downwards, taking in what Max was wearing for the first time. It was a dress. No, not just a dress. A Dress. Chloe found herself thinking. The cut of the dress was simple enough: it was a full circle, 1940's style tea dress, deep black in colour, with a slit travelling directly up the spine, but it was the design on the fabric that really captured Chloe's attention.
Two streams of butterflies, one pink, one blue, streamed up the dress in an intricate spiral pattern. The two colours began on opposite sides, one on the left and one on the right, each colour travelling up the skirt in a tight spiral until they met at the pleat between skirt and torso. There, the two streams combined in an explosion of colour and wings. The effect was, as Chloe had already proven, jaw dropping.
The sight was so enrapturing, and Max looked so beautiful, that Chloe couldn't help it. "Holy shit." She blurted out.
Max turned at the sound of her voice, and the smile Chloe received could have easily made her fall for Max all over again.
"Chloe!" Max exclaimed, rushing over and flinging herself into the arms of the taller woman.
The impact of Max's greeting drove the breath from her lungs, but Chloe didn't care: she had her Super Max back where she belonged. Her arms automatically enclosed around Max's petite frame, holding her tight and relishing the warmth of her body against her own.
"I'm hella sorry." Max mumbled into Chloe's shirt. "I know you're probably mad at me, but I swear I have a good reason for being so totally fucking lame." Her fists bunched a little more of the shirt. "I was kinda afraid you wouldn't come." She admitted.
"It's fine. Well, no, it was kind of a dick move." Chloe found herself saying. "Just, maybe give me a little more heads-up next time instead of just dropping it on me like a twenty ton sack of shit."
"I will, Chloe, I promise." Max stepped away from the embrace. "OK, so, here's why I couldn't see you. You ready?"
"Are the Prescotts a bunch of assholes?" Chloe answered rhetorically
Max giggled. "Happy anniversary." She said, and tilted her head to the side, brushing her hair away to expose her neck.
Upon seeing what resided there, Chloe's eyes widened until they were doing a remarkably accurate impression of a pair of saucers.
There, just under Max's right ear, was a brightly coloured, stylised tattoo of a doe. It was detailed enough that it looked as if it was about to take life and leap from Max's skin as a real life, Disney-esque cartoon. To top it all off, on the doe's nose was perched a butterfly, featuring exquisitely detailed and vibrant blue wings, shot through with deep black streaks.
"Holy fucking shit, Max!" Chloe exclaimed. "That's hella fucking cool."
Max giggled. "It's us." She explained. "I wanted to get something that, no matter what, no matter where we are or even if we don't work out, meant we would always be together." She gestured at her neck. "I hella wanted to show you, but it needed a few days to heal. So, I'm showing you now. Ta-da!"
Chloe, lost for words, did the only thing she could think of. She kissed Max, long and deep. When they parted, she looked deep into Max's eyes. "Thank you." She said, earnestly. And then, unable to help herself, a mischievous grin crept onto her face. "You look way fucking hot with some ink by the way."
Max blushed. "Thanks. I've been wanting to get something for ages now, I even wrote it in my old journal when I moved back here, but I couldn't think of anything that actually mattered enough until a couple of weeks ago."
"It hella suits you." Chloe said, not without an ounce of pride. "We'll make an inked-up punk out of you yet."
"As if." Max retorted. "I'm still a hipster at heart."
"Search your feelings, young Caulfield. You know it to be true."
Max gave her a good-natured roll of her eyes. "You're such a frigging dork." She took hold of Chloe's hand. "C'mere, I'm not done yet."
She led Chloe to where the cliff-side bench sat, bathed in the golden evening light. Max seemed especially excited, and as the front of the bench came into view, Chloe could see why. On it was sat a bottle of wine and two glasses, and what looked like a small speaker. Next to them, however, was what really caught Chloe's eye.
A brand new leather jacket, with a blue ribbon tied festively to a lapel, lay on the bench. Chloe squealed, practically vibrating in excitement.
"You really needed a new one." Max joked, poking at a particularly threadbare patch of Chloe's old jacket.
Chloe simply hugged her.
They stayed that way, holding each other close, for a few precious minutes, feeling the slowly dying sun warming them, wrapping them in a cocoon of their own love.
Eventually, they broke apart. As they did, Chloe reached for her bag. "I have something for you too." She said with a grin. From the bag, she produced the camera. Max's eyes lit up in delight, an expression Chloe found to be utterly adorable.
"Wowser!" She whispered as she took the camera into her hands, turning it every which way. When she saw the engraving on the bottom she looked up, beaming.
"Do you like-" was all she managed to say before Max's lips smashed into her own. One breath-taking, heart-rate-hiking kiss later, Chloe had her answer. "I'll take that as a yes."
Max smiled.
Fifteen minutes and half a bottle of wine later, the two of them were laid out on the bench, with Max's head resting comfortably on Chloe's shoulder.
"This is perfect." Chloe murmured, watching the sun dip ever closer to the gleaming horizon. She looked down at Max, who had closed her eyes, a contented half-smile on her face. "Seriously, this is like the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."
"You're worth it." Max replied.
"Flatterer."
"You love it, Little Miss Ego." She said. She picked up her new camera from where it sat next to her in the bench. She turned it so it was facing the two of them, and prepared to depress the shutter button.
Before she could do it, Chloe butted in. "Photobomb!"
Max laughed, and took the picture. In it, she saw a pink-haired girl and a blue-haired girl, grinning like idiots. She showed Chloe, and the two of them shared a laugh at how goofy they looked.
The pink-haired girl rose from the bench, and took three paces. She raised an arm, and beckoned, curling a slender index finger in a come hither motion.
The blue-haired girl obeyed. She stopped one pace in front the pink-haired girl, and placed a hand on her hip, waiting.
The pink-haired girl took out her phone and tapped it, before quickly putting it away. After a second, sound began to emerge from the mini speaker, forming the first few notes of Max's favourite song: To All of You, by Syd Matters.
"Dance with me." She said.
Her partner-in-crime met her eyes, and took a step forward. She reached out, encircling her counterparts waist, pulling her gently into close embrace. Max laid her arms around Chloe's neck, and the two lovers began to slow dance, shifting weight from one leg to the other every second beat.
And there they stayed, lost in each other, two silhouettes framed against the last sliver of fragile light left on the horizon. As the sun died, their lips met, and the world around them vanished, reduced to tiny insignificance.
They were best friends. They were lovers. They were pirates. They had each other, and nothing was ever going to tear them apart.
They were Max and Chloe.
Author's Note: *fidgets awkwardly* So, um. Hi. Yes. This chapter is incredibly hella late, and for that I am sorry. I do have a good excuse though: I got married. On October 8th. There were rings and everything. So, yeah (also marriage is hella fun and I totes recommend it). So, settling into married life is why this chapter is ... uhh... 16 days late (fuck me I didn't think it was that bad).
Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter and its metric fuckton of fluff. I honestly don't think I've ever written anything so cheesy. The next chapter will be considerably simpler, as I kinda want to get back to doing smaller vignettes like at the start of this series. I've also run out of ideas for chapters after the next one, so if you want to see something or have any prompts, please please send them to me. Otherwise, see you all next time. Peace out.