Ally's Café's always empty, but this is a record, Victoria notes, pushing through the establishment's door and holding it for Max.
She receives a hushed smile and soft thanks, Max's dog-eared adorableness striking her hard enough to almost eclipse the strange silence surrounding them.
But not quite.
Vacant tables galore, there's no waitress in sight, nor a tune drifting from ceiling-installed speakers, and the warm scent of baking dough seems stripped of its inherent comfort, disembodied somehow. Like a peek past the cake display counter would reveal no cook.
It's creepy, and if this is a horror movie, Victoria's expecting a jump-scare right about –
"Back here."
There, at an easily overlooked back table, sits Nathan.
Waiting.
"Guess we're the late ones," Max muses.
Date hopes dashed with no time to mourn, Victoria pulls a slow-rising breath into her chest, holds it as she studies everything about Nathan the distance between them will allow.
Like his hair, much more preppy than she recently recalls; brushed back into order and lightly slicked, that forehead-overhanging strand a thing of his – it would seem – bad boy past.
No fucks given about the strand. Victoria's just relieved there's no snow around his nostrils.
"Well this is a shocker," she noticeably exhales, looking to Max. "He actually beat us here. Guess this must mean he gives a shit?"
"We'll see."
They will.
And that's what has Victoria's stomach swirling.
Up close they find Nathan neutral-faced.
He stands when they sit.
He acknowledges Max with a short nod.
He leans across and pecks Victoria's cheek, tugs her into a tight one-armed hug that's quietly spiteful, despite the outwardly fond, "looking exquisite, Tor. Didn't know Max and I were having company."
Victoria almost resists his suffocating squeeze but catches herself, sinking the urge to shove him away, wipe her cheek, and scold his gross nickname for her upon realizing that – as well as giving her the finger for feeding him to Max like this – Nathan's tipping her off.
Alerting her to the specifics of the image he's getting ready to sell Max.
Inviting her to be the malleable prop he needs if Max is to swallow his baby face facade.
Their facade, Victoria acknowledges with a frown, because if Max goes to the cops there's a chance everything surfaces, including her knowledge of the drugs Nathan circulates within the Vortex Club.
She slides a reciprocal arm around him, smiles closed-eyed over his shoulder like warm picturesque greetings are their thing. "Exquisite? Aw, that's super sweet Nathan, thanks. Loving your swag today also. I –"
"Now we're all caught up, let's talk," Max cuts in.
Max, whose serious eyes come into Nathan's view as he frees Victoria and retreats back to his seat.
She's prettier than he remembers.
Surer of herself.
And when, "what made you think it was okay to do what you did?" comes from her lips, as direct and unwavering as her deliberate stare, he starts to understand why Victoria's useless around her.
But he's not Victoria.
Under no circumstances is Aurora Creek trash about to have his world crawling with pigs and sniffer dogs. And if Max isn't deterred today, if it takes a text to masked goons who'll toss her in a trunk to scare her in check, Nathan doesn't want the smoke with Victoria, but so be it.
"I'm sorry," he leads with.
Nice and simple.
Except, "that's not really an answer. So, again, what made you think it was okay to do what you did?"
Nathan falters. "I, uh, it's not. I mean it, uh, it wasn't. Okay, I mean."
"Then why do it? For you to say, yes, this is what I'm gonna do, and then to actually do it? How do you get there?"
Between the alphabet soup of drugs I snorted, and Victoria's boner-induced meltdown, who knows?
"You saw how many beers I had. I was totalled," Nathan reasons lamely.
"Who hasn't been wasted?" Max asks, cynical. "Most people wouldn't do what you did. And you were sneaky. Sneaky enough for me not to notice you dosed my drink. So how totalled were you?"
Not as totalled as I'd be right now if I didn't have to be here.
It's been a month since Nathan discarded his most recent attempt at sobriety, each day since a dreamy cluster of events he's not sure even really happened.
Except today.
Today is clear. Crystal.
Sharp enough to draw blood.
And whilst he expected Max's questioning would rile him, without the stabilizing balm of having gotten high today, this – the steady pressure she's applying – feels like fire's developed a lust for his flesh.
Victoria lays knowing fingers on his forearm, gentle in her prompt, "Nathan, Max asked you a quest –"
"Look, I'm a dick for what I did okay?" he grunts, that vein in his forehead pulsing.
It isn't until he feels the soft but sobering impact of a foot against his shin that he backs away from the flames.
"I'm a, a dick for what I did," he repeats, reeling himself in; calmer. "But it was supposed to be a simple bump-up – something to loosen and liven. No bad intent."
"No bad intent?" Max echoes, dipping her head to try to catch Nathan's table-bound – and determined to stay that way apparently – stare. "It wasn't your place to liven me up. I'm a person Nathan, not a Christmas tree."
"I know that! No harm meant okay? You were supposed to..." He glances Victoria, who's an unnaturally still portrait of concealed apprehension. "You guys were supposed to have fun."
"Have fun," Max mutters. "Have fun," she repeats, louder and with a soft scoff.
She drops the act that she's even a little bit amused then, picks up an air of mock journalist. "Did you have fun, Victoria? Was babysitting a high stranger fun for you?"
No, but having you around was nice?
Victoria buries that for, "wasn't how I would've chosen to spend the night, no, but you were fine once settled at least."
A minimizing response from the girl who, given the choice, would've gone on shielding her friend.
Yeah.
Max isn't going for it.
"I wasn't fine."
"Okay, but like watching you wasn't like this overly burdensome thing. For sure it wasn't fun, but it was okay in the end. Like, you weren't much trouble."
"I wasn't much trouble?" Max challenges, incredulous. "You had to pry me off of you, Victoria; I was completely out of control. I don't even wanna think about the things I must've said – what else I did."
"Pry," Nathan repeats, frowning Victoria's way for an explanation.
But she barely registers him, caught in a storm with the way Max cupped her cheeks and pressed her warm, slick, insistent tongue into her mouth that night – and now the humiliating undertone that Max would have to be completely out of control to kiss her.
She clicks her tongue and sighs, glances off at nothing in particular before rolling glum eyes back to Max, ready to re-engage.
Barely.
"There wasn't any prying okay Max? I just, I pushed you away and you didn't force the issue. And you didn't spill where you keep any bodies buried either, so you're good."
Max detects the slight attitude, suddenly realizes why it's there. "I didn't mean for what I said to sound how it came out."
Victoria's quiet, "it's cool. This isn't about me," as she brushes phantom crumbs from the table, confirms for Max that's exactly how it sounded.
"It's not personal Victoria. I just don't normally get like that. With anyone. For me to do that, like that, means I was out of control. Not necessarily out of control because it was you."
Those clarifying words kiss smooth the pained pinch between Victoria's eyebrows. They turn the corners of her mouth up, not by much, but at all.
They gift her hope that maybe Max isn't repulsed by her.
"Received," she says. "Sorry about, you know..." She softly shrugs a shoulder. "Catching a 'tude."
"No. No, Max said pry – that she was out of control. The hell's that mean?" Nathan presses.
Victoria and Max share an awkward glance, but remain quiet. Guarded, Nathan determines.
His demanding stare darts between them, fist coiled in his lap like a cocked gun. "Victoria, did she flip out on you?"
"What? No. Chill."
"How about you spill and I'll decide if I should chill!"
Despite Nathan's neat presentation, Max sees something monstrous flit through him. Something like a protective brother's rage, noble in intention but dark in its plans to avenge.
That, the depth of his shadow, is what she's here to investigative.
So she pokes at it.
"What if I did? Hurt Victoria. What would you do?"
"Suggest you never let me find out about it."
"Nathan!" Victoria scolds through gritted teeth. "Save the low-ranking-mobster routine for the mirror – Max didn't attack me!"
"And if I had it's not like it'd be my fault, because I wasn't myself thanks to you drugging me!" Max quietly hisses, the sound of distant employee voices knocking at her peripheral awareness. "That's the whole point, I didn't know what I was doing because of you! Luckily I didn't hurt myself, or Victoria."
"Then what's all this talk of being pried off?"
Max averts her eyes then, and there, Nathan realizes, is the unsure freckle-faced girl he met at the carnival.
"There was a..." Max frowns, tells the table, "a kiss."
"And I shut it down, obviously," Victoria quickly clarifies.
Not that Nathan's judging.
He's done worse things.
His fist uncoils, made limp by his blotchy recollection of the worst thing.
Dana balled up on the floor trembling, covered in bruises and gashes at his hands...
His Adam's apple dips twice under a struggling swallow. "I'm sorry," he croaks.
"Sorry doesn't wipe this clean, Nathan," Max pounces, reclaiming that inner fire. "What if I'd wandered off, found myself in the wrong mood with the wrong people and some guys took advantage? Or what if I was on meds you didn't know about, and whatever you slipped me was a bad mix with them?"
"I already said what I did was wrong!" Nathan whispers quick and tight. "Irresponsible! A fucked up response to my friend's distress. I'm sorry!" he exclaims, a tornado of wild gesticulating hands. "But Victoria looked ready to dig a hole to China to get you to open up, and you looked scared of your own shadow! I thought I was lubing the wheels!"
"Oh. Oh, well I guess it's alright then. You know, since you were just looking out for us – an everyday cupid. Never mind your complete disregard for me, the position you put Victoria in, or the numerous other ways you could've chosen to play wingman." Max smiles, leans back and waves it off like, "everything's fine, really. Let's order some curly fries, pop a cold one, and chitchat about the Golden Globes."
"Max," Victoria warns.
"No, you don't know what it was like okay Victoria? – Not knowing if I'd been passed around a group of frat bros!"
"No Max, I –"
"Or worse, if there were videos on a bunch of strangers' phones, ready to be posted to the dark web!"
"No and it's – I totally get that, Max. It truly fucking sucks that this happened, and I admit, I don't know what it's like. But can we just – please, let's try to keep things civil. Please?"
Max blows a frustrated breath free and rubs her face forcefully.
Within the quelling darkness of her palm she grounds her mind, reminds herself she's here to get answers, not emotional.
"I'm sorry," she murmurs, dropping her hand to reveal eyes tinted a moderate shade of chagrin. "I didn't mean to snap."
Victoria's impulse to slide a comforting hand over Max's floods her to her toes.
Her fingers twitch atop the table.
So close yet so far away.
She sighs.
"Hey, it's no biggie. The situation's highly charged. Like, I get it. Really. And you're totally within your rights to be upset. And I know I'm asking big things here, but can we try to be semi cordial? Hold the snark?"
"No," Nathan says, both girls turning their stare on him. He holds Max's. "I fucked you over and I can't fix it." He shrugs. "So if you need to take shots, do it."
For yourself, and Dana.
"Yoo-hoo," Victoria toots, waving. "Hey there, it's me. Your lovely mediator who's not about to take a bullet in the crosshairs. So what we're not gonna do is sit here trading shots. PSA over."
It's said with finality, leaving no room for protest.
But Max, silent, still looks to be considering it.
"Go ahead," Nathan encourages her.
Victoria bumps his shin, harder this time. "Knock it off."
"Why shouldn't I?" Max asks.
"What?"
"Take shots. Why shouldn't I?"
"Because, Max, you guys jousting to the death isn't what we're here for."
"Technically it'd just be me wielding the jousting lance, and Nathan taking the impact."
In theory, sure. But Victoria knows Nathan. He's as defensive as she is and five times more volatile, and it's not gonna take two good shots before he's firing back. Before he fires back too hard and as good as parks Max outside the nearest cop house.
A reality Victoria wants no part of.
"I hear you, Max. You're mad. I'd be too. But do we really need tension beyond what's necessary?"
"Yeah, we do," Nathan insists, despite the way Victoria's lips purse tight. "All that anger's gotta go somewhere. So Max, tell me – I don't know – how much you want your Sonic-the-Hedgehog-haired bestie to set fire to me, or whatever else it is she does when she's angry."
"You don't get to be the martyr here," Max tells him. "You don't get to delude yourself into thinking things are somehow settled if I'm mean to you."
"Great, then we all agree to pass on the war of insults," Victoria quickly concludes.
Max looks at her, measuring almost, and Victoria's suddenly the most insecure she's ever been.
Which results in an unintentionally bitchy: "What?"
"Guess I'm trying to figure out if you're just trying to keep the peace, or worried about something."
Victoria forgets to apologize for her sharp tone, swallows pretty hard in the face of Max's perceptiveness. "I... I'm just tryna keep this civilized. And sure, as questionable as it may be, maybe I don't like the thought of someone who isn't me dragging Nathan. He's a friend."
"Who did something wrong," Max points out.
"I'm not saying he didn't. Look, I know you think he's Ted Bundy levels of demon spawn – and not without good reason – but Nathan's my, he's my friend. Not even. Like my – he's like a brother. And I..." Victoria runs an antsy fingertip along her eyebrow, lets her hand flop to her lap, her gaze following it there. She shrugs subtle, the smallest Max has ever seen her. "I care about him. Even though he's a thoughtless asshole sometimes. And again, we really don't need to add insults to this already sweltering tension pot."
Nathan squints in disbelief, wants to tap his ears to test they're working properly.
Thoughtless asshole. Yeah, not the picture of me you need to be painting for Max!
"I'm a thoughtless asshole now? Really?"
"Yeah, really."
Max isn't buying you're harmless anyway, dipshit. Especially after you just went low-rent mobster on her. Might as well acknowledge you're a dumbass so we're credible enough to deny you're a rapist.
"I'm the guy who just tried to defend you when it looked like Max flipped out on you, but I'm a thoughtless asshole? Screw you."
"I didn't need defending, nor did I ask you to defend me."
"Didn't need to. See when you actually give a shit about your friends, having their back is reflex. But, yeah, I'm the most thoughtless asshole to ever asshole!"
"I just had to verbalize that I care about you. Like, out loud. So drink ten tall glasses of shut the fuck up and be glad I didn't call you something worse."
"That's it, I'm done with you."
"Catch me being super bothered."
"Shut up," Nathan grumbles, their ruse of a cookie-cutter friendship lost.
"You shut up. Don't make me tell Max to take those shots she was promised."
"It was my idea, you clueless nerd. She can take 'em!"
"Take your ass three seconds into the past and don't call me a nerd. How about that for your next act, you clown?"
"I have an act for you. Wanna know what it is?"
"Not particularly, no."
"You pretending your obsession with anime characters scissoring doesn't make you a yuri nerd. Fight me."
"Once it's just us, gladly."
"What are you gonna do, throw your Himeko Kurusugawa figurine at me?"
That snags Victoria's attention. "Leave Himeko outta this before I drag you 'til your knees are bleeding."
"Leave Himeko outta this," Nathan mocks, which earns him a severe glare he pointedly ignores. "How about you actually believing she can sense when your day sucked? Or that if she could sense when your day sucked, she'd care? Did you ever stop sleeping with her cradled to your chest, or are we still doing that?"
"You come up with this bullshit yourself? Or are you paying someone? Asking for a very concerned friend."
"Pft." Nathan begins patting his pockets, which spikes Victoria's heartbeat something dangerous.
"Nathan!"
He unearths his phone and presents it to Max, who notices – before he swipes it unlocked – the screensaver photo.
A close-up of him, Victoria, and a blue-eyed brunette Max has seen around the dorms, all three serving exaggerated duck face with a side of hokey bedroom eyes.
It's an unexpectedly effeminate pose for a boy like Nathan, one he's more emphatic about than the girls shouldering him. He's carefree, a content teen goofing with close friends. To that there's warmth; the kind of picture that asks what lead to it, and what uproarious laughter followed.
But screensaver Nathan's a far cry from the dubious creep who showed up at the carnival.
Max wonders which version is truest, and as she watches him taunt Victoria like an annoying little brother would, she considers that the answer is: both.
"Nathan!" Victoria barks again.
"No, you said your illegitimate marriage to your Himeko figurine was bullshit. So let's see what my photo collection has to say," he goads, thumbing rapidly through pictures.
Max blinks. "I'm pretty sure I don't need to see whatever –"
"Oh," Nathan chuckles, "you're gonna wanna see this."
Victoria pretends to shrug her bracelet further down her wrist – snatches Nathan's phone at the last second. She pockets it with none more than a cavalier sniff.
"Give it back."
"There's more chance Epstein comes back to tell us he killed himself. Get outta my face."
"Give it!"
"Delete the photos I already told you to delete! Oh wait," Victoria drawls obnoxiously, "you can't 'cause you're not getting your phone back."
"So now the photos exist?"
"Whatever."
"Your love life's whatever."
"Makes two of us."
Undeterred, Nathan juts his bottom lip out in mock pout, and in the most childish voice he can muster, teases, "poor Himeko, cursed with keeping you warm at night. It'd be cute if it wasn't so pathetic."
"God, you are so God damn annoying!" Victoria growls, crimson-faced and unable to look anywhere near Max.
"Ditto."
So much for not adding insults to the already sweltering tension, Max thinks. Even so, she feels the underlying affection between them. That thing that was missing from their hug, fashioned effortlessly in their tango of petulance and barbs.
That, the sentimental screensaver, and Nathan's clear readiness to avenge any wrongs Victoria endures – however misguided – paints a new picture, wherein Nathan has more heart than first thought.
Still dark.
Just less so.
Those distant employee voices suddenly louden then die off, and a stocky woman with a short square haircut emerges.
She maneuvers around the counter, dropping an origami flower into a table vase she passes on her way to them.
"Welcome to Ally's Café. Sorry about the wait. We're understaffed and those web orders for delivery are just rolling in. But enough of that. What would you like?" she asks, pen poised to scribble orders to notepad.
"I'm not hungry," comes Nathan's mildly grumpy response.
Victoria's not hungry either.
Neither is Max.
"Um, we didn't get a chance to look at the menu yet," Victoria says, grateful for another face to focus on, even if its features are harder than Chinese arithmetic. "But I'll take a Pepsi-Cola if it'll keep you from kicking us out."
"We're under new management. No need to buy to stay unless it's crowded. And as you can see, we're pretty empty."
"That's being generous. There're more happenin' graveyards."
The waitress laughs, and it's gruff like she eats cartons of Marlboros for breakfast. "Alright, I'll be in the back – help get those online orders prepped. Just ring the counter bell when those stomachs start rumblin'."
She leaves as promptly as she appeared, her crisp militaryesque footsteps growing more and more distant until silence reigns.
Max marks it first. "How many others have you drugged Nathan?"
"Zero," he denies right away, as if anticipating the question. "What, you think I'm some pervert? I'm not!"
"I don't know what to think. That's why I'm asking."
"No. That's what you think and it's not cool."
"It's not cool that there's a whole night of my life missing," Max reminds him, to which he shrinks slightly and stares at the table, suitably quieted. "Can you blame me for asking how many others there are?"
Nathan starts to mess with a fray in the tablecloth, his silence sulky but understanding.
"Exactly. So if it's logical for you to drug me for Victoria's benefit, what's to say you aren't drugging others for your own?"
"Repackage the question as many ways as you want. There's no one else."
"That the truth or just what you want me to believe?"
Nathan looks up sharp, points a finger at his face. "Believe this gets girls. I don't need to drug anybody."
"Sexual assault's not about whether or not you can get girls. It's about –"
"Being a depraved piece of shit. Now ask Victoria how many times I've stepped in when assholes got too handsy." He leans forward so Max doesn't miss a syllable. "Death to rapists."
Victoria rolls her eyes, says, "as much as I hate this award-winning dumbass right now, pretty sure I'd be me-tooing all over social medias if it wasn't for him."
"G'head Vic, keep talking raunchy if you want Max to know more of your nerdy little quirks."
"Spill it; who doesn't have an inner nerd these days? You're a first-place dumbass. Own it."
"Only if you own –"
"Guys," Max groans. "Please, stop."
"Tell her, not me."
One look at Max's fatiguing face and Victoria swallows her rebuttal. "Okay I'm done."
"As far as Nathan saving you from creeps, Victoria, guys are different with girls who're friends versus girls they see as conquests."
"Maybe so, but I know Nathan. If I thought for a nanosecond he was out here sexually assaulting girls, he'd be some guy's prison wife right now, getting sexually assaulted."
"I'm not a rapist," Nathan argues. "I hate rapists."
"I hate when people don't get back to me, but you know what? That doesn't stop me taking my time getting back to others. Hypocrisy's a thing," Max points out. "We all hate things, and sometimes we hate things because they reflect back aspects of ourselves we don't like."
Nathan shakes his head. "No. No that's not the same thing. You're twisting this."
"No, I was making a point."
"I'm not a rapist."
"I don't know that."
"I do."
"Why the amnesia?"
"What?" Nathan asks, thrown by the abrupt topic switch.
"Whatever you slipped me pretty much wiped my memory of that night. If you didn't have bad intentions, why were you holding drugs that cause that level of amnesia?" Max asks. "Was it really about lubing social wheels? Or were you, in your mind, leaving the door open for your friend to do whatever she wanted without me remembering the next day?"
Victoria emits a sharp disapproving noise between a scoff and a nasal hiss, lifts an interjecting hand. "Okay stop. I totally wouldn't be friends with him if he thought I needed that kinda help getting laid. So no, Max, he wasn't leaving doors open for me to do a God damn thing. Even when wasted, Nathan knows I'm not that girl, hence why he did what he did without my knowledge." She tugs at Nathan with irritated urging eyes. "Tell her and make it fast, 'cause I'm not serving a sentence for something you did!"
"I already told her the truth! What else do you want?"
"Tell me why you had drugs that cause that kind of memory loss," Max says, raising a serious eyebrow.
That kind of memory loss.
Nathan knows all about that kind of memory loss, unfortunately...
The green and blue eyes boring into him are stern in different ways, not unlike that unyielding parental stare cast down upon a child who's seconds from a blundering confession.
"I-I thought they were Serenity pills, but they weren't," he admits, the murmur barely moving the air at his lips.
Still it reaches Max with the force of a truck. She slowly shakes her head, disgusted. "Gimme one good reason not to call the cops."
"I thought –"
"Just so we're clear here," she interrupts. "Not only were you irresponsible enough to drug me, you didn't even have it together enough to know what you were slipping me?"
"Hey, you asked for the truth and I'm telling –"
"What do you want, a back rub? Fuck you!"
Victoria's eyebrows rise at that.
"Okay," Nathan concedes. "Okay. Fuck me. But I wasn't tryna rape or get anybody raped. Gimme that at least."
"Where'd you get the drugs?"
"What's it matter?" Nathan diverts, 'cause that's a whole other can of worms he doesn't need Max sniffing around. "I thought the pills were simple mood lifters. It wasn't about rape or stealing memories."
"It matters because whoever sold you those pills is probably selling them to creeps who aren't gonna think twice about dosing drinks to assault girls!"
Nathan sighs lengthily.
His fatigue doesn't slow Max down even a little bit. "Who sold you the drugs?"
"No one. Got them from a friend who was under the impression they were Serenity pills," he says. "And no, I don't know who they got them from," he lies, like his scuffle with Frank Bowers never happened. "If it makes this any better, you'll be glad to know the pills fucked me up too."
Similarly to Max, Nathan barely recalls the day he attacked Dana past tossing those pills to the back of his throat.
He just knows the aftermath; the gnarled rainbow hue to Dana's Africa-shaped bruises, now faded but there in the way she jams up whenever he walks into classes they share.
He knows that winded nausea, like everything in the world is poison, whenever he sees her and Logan walking the hallways hand in hand.
And Frank doesn't know it yet, but he's gonna pay. He's gonna swallow some teeth for selling Arcadia Bay's youth bootleg shit under the description of, "man, it's the purest high grade Serenity around."
"Who was it?" Max prompts. "The friend you got the pills from."
From Victoria's perspective, this is the perfect out. All Nathan has to do is sling out a name.
"Just tell her already," she urges, ready for this to be over.
"Rachel."
"Rachel," Max echoes almost dumbly.
"Wait," Victoria says, "Rachel Amber?"
"None other."
Max's brow twitches under a threatening frown.
"Of course," Victoria says, nodding to herself with a scowl. "Of course the walking STI is involved. Shoulda known."
"Lay off, Vic. Whole town knows hating Rachel's your religion, but some of us actually think she's cool."
"Right. So cool she handed you a shady batch of pills and said 'knock yourself out.' Wise up to her fetish for lining up trains just to watch them crash Nathan!"
"Wasn't like that."
"Oh really? How was it then?" Victoria gestures to herself and Max. "We're all ears."
"She gave me a handful of pills at the carnival – what we both thought were Serenity pills," Nathan emphasizes. "They sure looked it. She winked like Rachel does, told me to enjoy the ride. But I didn't take 'em 'til days later. That's when I knew they definitely were not Serenity pills."
"And you didn't think to go to Rachel afterward?" Max finds her voice.
Nathan shifts uneasily, murmurs, "sure."
"So then you know who sold her the pills?"
"Maybe."
Max frowns. "You just said you didn't know who sold your friend the pills. So which is it?"
"Rachel and I are already handling it!" Nathan snaps. "Stay in your lane Max!"
"You mean the lane where you drugged me and left me wide open to be assaulted? That lane? You brought me into this! And now I'm sticking around until I know that what happened to me isn't happening to others."
"The cops are already looking into it," comes Nathan's knee-jerk lie.
"I think I – I need to talk to Rachel," Max realizes aloud.
"Great. Talk to Rachel," Nathan encourages.
And before you do I'll brief her on getting you to believe the cops are already on it.
He rubs his nose, sniffs. "Look, I made a bad split-second call and I fucked up. It's never happened before and it won't happen again. That's the truth. You can take it or leave it Max."
It's too blunt for Victoria's taste, so she tugs on her Marigold gloves, prepped for clean-up. "It may not be hitting the screen in HD 'cause, you know, boys, but Nathan's not proud of what he did, and if you just give him a chance, Max – even though he doesn't deserve one – I think you'll see he's okay despite his many many flaws."
Nathan absorbs the backhanded vouch without comment, waits for the verdict as Max visibly mulls Victoria's words over.
She takes her gaze from Victoria to him, spends some time staring into the windows to his soul.
There's darkness in him.
That's clear.
Whether or not she's gotten what she needed from this sit down isn't.
She's learned Nathan's not empty, that he's capable of caring for others. And at times he's seemed regretful of his actions. Disgusted by the notion that he drugs and takes advantage of girls. Then there's the drug confusion which, if true, partially alleviates the sinister aspect of all of this.
But there's a troubled residue to him that's, well, troubling.
Unstable.
Max isn't so sure that constitutes him a rapist though.
There's darkness in him she can't put a face to.
But...
Maybe that face isn't drugging girls and raping them...
"Okay," Max says. "I won't tell the cops to swarm you. For now," she adds. "But if I see anything, anything at all, that gives me reason to believe you're a risk to anyone else, I'm reporting what happened. Without warning. And I'll be watching, Nathan."
"Isn't everybody?"
Max lifts an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I'm a Prescott. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, right? Everybody's watching, all the time."
"Then that should help to keep you honest."
"Alright, you think I'm a psycho piece of shit. I get it. But I'm not the monster you want me to be."
"We'll see."
"Yeah, you will."
"Max is giving you some rope here, Nathan," Victoria reminds him. "Don't be a cowboy." She turns to Max, suddenly hesitant. "I know I'm... probably not your go-to choice, but you shouldn't feel like you're alone. So like, if you need to vent about what happened, I'll totally listen."
Without getting defensive should you drag Nathan inside out. Or me, for kissing back...
The unspoken sentiment is loud, communicated so thoroughly through sincere olive green eyes that Victoria might as well have spoken it.
Max smiles.
That subtle warm smile Victoria sort of resents for the strain it puts on her breathing.
"Thanks Victoria."
"It's nothing."
"It's something."
"Okay," Victoria drawls on a coy, pink-cheeked, half smile, "it's something then."
And it is.
Though Max has no plans to cash the offer in, it's something, because she's sure Victoria knows Chloe isn't aware of what happened that night.
The giveaway? The lack of holes in Nathan's chest.
Victoria rightly suspects she's dealt with this alone. That's why she's offering an ear, willing to suspend her tongue and risk hearing things she might not want to.
It's unexpectedly thoughtful, is Max's thought.
"I wasn't tryna fuck with your head or anything Max. No harm meant," Nathan tries, again, to drive home.
"I actually don't think you were out to get me."
"Good 'cause I wasn't."
"I don't think you were thinking about me at all," Max adds. "Which is worse - that I was just this piece on a chessboard you figured you'd knock over so you could do your friend a solid." She shrugs. "I didn't matter. What I wanted was irrelevant. I could've been anybody, which shows your disregard. You should probably work on that before it puts you behind bars."
There's that threat of law enforcement again.
Nathan's tempted to succumb to it, to let the beast who hasn't snorted anything today out.
Instead he keeps quiet.
And Max keeps quiet too because, regardless of his intentions and justifications, what happened fucked with her. For that alone she should go to the cops. But she knows: if she's the lone voice howling into the affluent Prescott empire, she'll get chewed up.
And so here she is, armed with her vigilance. One slip up from Nathan – even if a past offense surfacing – and she'll arm herself with the stories of those wronged. Those willing to come forward at least.
A choir of howling voices is louder than one.
Once it's clear that Nathan and Max are done, Victoria concludes, "that you didn't mean any harm is something you're gonna have to prove to Max over time, Nathan. That's just the way it is."
He thrusts his upturned palm out towards her. "Gimme my phone."
Without a word, Victoria plucks the device from her pocket, waking it up and tapping the screen a few times.
Then she's swiping repeatedly... until she's not.
After five purposeful taps, she drops the phone to Nathan's palm. Tells him: "You're not allowed to take pictures of me anymore. Oh, and that last selfie you took? It'd be cute if it wasn't so pathetic."
"Go fuck your selfie," Nathan counters with no real malice, standing up. He slips his phone into his pocket, stands around like he's unsure of how to depart. "I'm, uh, heading out."
"Be sure to let the door hit you on the way."
Again, Max opts for silence, and on that note, with one last glance at her unmoved face, Nathan leaves.
Victoria watches the door sweep shut, then takes two menus from the menu holder. She places one before Max, her arm slow to retract as it occurs to her: "You're not gonna let me buy you lunch are you?"
"Honestly, I think I'm just gonna skip lunch."
"Are you upset?"
Max shrugs. "I don't know. I think I just need time to process everything, you know?"
"Wanna talk it out?"
"Thanks but it's more a lone mission."
"Okay." Victoria drops her menu to the table. "Guess you're not coming to the party tonight since you already talked to Nathan."
"The three of us in an empty café is as social as it's gonna get for me today."
Victoria nods, schooling away her disappointment. "Okay. Cool. Lemme grab something to-go and we'll head back to campus?"
"Solid plan."
"Before I order, are you – is it cool if I blow by later and, you know, check how you're doing? You seem kinda upset. Maybe even a little mad, which, again? Totally understandable."
Max can't say, one way or the other, if she's going to be up for company later, no matter how brief the blow-by.
Then there's the fact that it's Victoria who's asking.
Making a habit of spending time with her outside of necessity seems foolish, naive to the certain fuel it would pour on Victoria's attraction to her.
"Uh..."
"You can totally tell me to leave whenever you want," Victoria suggests upon the growing quiet. "That doesn't mean I'll actually leave but, hey – worth a shot right?"
"Never had a stronger incentive to say yes. To anything, ever."
"I was kidding."
"Me too."
"Still can't believe you're this much of a smart-ass. But whatever. I'll leave when you want, and it's not like I'm sticking around; I have a party to host."
"I don't think I'm gonna be up to a check-in, but it's kind that you'd offer."
"Maybe I'll just shoot you a text then," Victoria scales it back, aware of her thirst but seemingly helpless to stop it.
"I'm not really the best at getting back to people."
"It's just a text, Max. Not like I'm asking you to carry the kids."
Not yet anyway.
"Kids?"
"Look, no strings or hidden agendas if that's what you're worried about," Victoria says. "Just tryna make sure you're good. After all, that is my duty as Vortex Club President – to ensure all newbies are well acclimated and flourishing under my watch."
Max reconsiders the proposal.
Victoria's attracted to her, unwilling to let this be the last time they hang out. On that front, the agenda Victoria claims doesn't exist is clear.
But beyond Victoria's palpable desire to stay connected, there's something about her concern that Max reads as genuine. Something about her disposition that Max can't pinpoint visually, but feels through some obscure sixth sense.
"Tick-tock Max, I'm about to give your slot to someone else," Victoria's quickly bruising ego threatens.
"Okay," Max agrees.
Victoria allows the beginnings of a hopeful grin. "Okay?"
"Yeah." Max nods once. "Okay."
"Okay like you want me to give your slot up? Or okay like I'm good to blow by later?"
"Okay like you're welcome to text – but with a stipulation."
"What?"
"Stop taking my introversion personally."
Victoria starts to shake her head. "No I –"
"Take my introversion personally," Max gently asserts, half wincing as she considers how, "you kinda beat yourself over the head with it."
For a second Victoria looks like she's going to protest, but then sort of slumps back in her chair like the spirit of pretense has left her body. "Damn, am I really such a transparent mess?"
"I didn't say you were a mess Victoria."
"Oh, so just transparent then. That makes this tons better."
Max realizes Victoria's gone, replaced by a skyscraper-tall stack of well-fed insecurities. She also realizes she lacks the energy and desire to throw herself into a circular battle with them, and simply says, "okay. You should order now, we have to be back soon."
Victoria awaits the sharp spike of annoyance that would flood her veins if it were anyone but Max putting her in her place right now. Dismissing her. Instead there's a warm hum flaring in her inner thighs, radiating through her sex to a throb. The pleasant, inflamed, pulsing kind that usually guides her hand past the band of her panties.
Lifting her eyelids off of a long composing blink, Victoria questions when she developed a submissive kink, wonders whether fantasies of Max spanking her will inhabit future daydreams. But that's quickly cast aside for the reality: that Max's unwillingness to entertain her dramatic bullshit, although terrifying, is hot. That Max commands respect as an equal, someone she can count on to be firm with her, is attractive.
Rare.
She brings the point of her elbow down on the table with a sulky clunk, leans the side of her head into her palm. "I feel like I should be way more upset that you're this good at checking my bullshit."
"It was more that I didn't wanna argue."
With a shrug Victoria insists, "it was a total check." Her eyes, autumnal slits of muted lust and something like appreciation, ride the spaces between the freckles dotting Max's face. Her tongue darts out to swipe some moisture back into her lips. "It's cool though, you're forgiven."
"Phew," Max quips, mimes wiping sweat from her forehead. She smirks right away, a white flag that has I'm a sarcastic asshole and I know it written on it.
A white flag that tugs Victoria from the grips of the want filling her insides.
She shifts slightly in her seat, retorting an equally teasing, "whatever Max, we both know you'd fall apart if ever I was truly mad at you. Let's not even play."
Max chuckles softly as Victoria stands.
"I'm gonna go see if I can get Military Melda to take my order. Sure I can't get you anything, besides a jar to toss quarters into every time you get smart with me?"
"No, thanks."
"Be back as soon as."