Just Outside Arcadia Bay, Oregon

"This is amazing," Max laughs. "I can't believe it's still standing."

I wasn't sure what to expect, bringing Max back here; part of me had been afraid she'd think it was weird. But judging by the way she's grinning up at the tree fort we built when we were kids, I probably shouldn't have worried.

"I've tried to keep it in good shape over the years." I admit, hoping I sound chill. "I might have made a couple of upgrades."

"More than a couple. Last time I was here it was just a few sheets of plywood and some two-by-fours. This is like a whole other thing."

I don't know if she's really that impressed or just stalling for time. Either way, I can't help but bask in the praise a bit. I'm actually pretty proud of myself. I may not be a pro, but I had all my dad's old tools, and I can Google like nobody's business. "I guess. I mean, I just cleaned it up a little."

By which I mean reinforcing the floor, patching the holes in the roof, putting up some cheap insulation I found, adding some carpet, using some clear plastic for windows and sanding everything smooth.

What can I say? I needed something to fill the hours after the fine folks at Blackhell showed me the door. And besides, it turns out that girls usually won't want to hang out in your tree fort if it's cold, wet, and covered with splinters. Honestly, if you've found a girl who's interested in hanging out in your tree fort at all, you do what you gotta do to hold on to her.

At least until she breaks up with you and skips town without a fucking word.

No. Stop. Not going there right now.

"More than a little. I can't wait to see that the inside looks like."

"It's no big deal," I add, trying to play it cool and definitely not staring at Max's ass while she's climbing up the ladder.

"I'm serious, Chloe. It looks amazing." She points at the handmade sign next to the trapdoor entrance; the one that says Warning: Booby Traps. "That part is a little concerning, though."

"It's a bluff," I reassure her. Following her inside, I shut the door and lean back against the tree trunk that makes up the fort's back wall. "See? All safe."

"Any particular reason for it?"

"Hell yeah. I caught a couple of Vortex Club douchebros banging in here and decided that was enough mental scarring for one lifetime." Max glances uncomfortably at the cheap rug I bought at a garage sale. Six bucks well spent, if you ask me. "Oh, relax. That was before I got the carpet. I hope it was worth it, too, cause one of them fell over when I stuck my head in and I'm pretty sure he ended up with splinters in his dick."

She blinks, surprised, then lets out a bark of laughter. "I can't believe you never told me about that."

Oh, right. For a second, I'd just been enjoying spending time with my old friend, but the comment shatters that illusion. And while I'd love to keep talking about treehouse-related shenanigans, I want answers more. "So. The future, huh?"

She sighs. I guess she was stalling, after all. "Yeah."

"As in the actual, legit future?"

"No, Chloe," she deadpans. "I'm from the fake future."

"Are there hoverboards yet?

"Afraid not."

I snort. "Okay, that right there is a bullshit future."

"I'm from twenty-fifteen, Chloe. Not the year three-thousand."

"And we were promised hoverboards by twenty-fifteen. Hence, I sayeth bullshit."

"You sayeth?"

"It's...sorry, it's kind of an inside joke. I was in this play onc-"

"Right," she nods, smiling. "The Tempest."

Fuck. I'm trying to be chill about all this, but every time I start to relax, Max says something else to remind me how out of sync we are.

"I wish I could have seen it," she continues, smiling. "I bet you were amazing on stage."

"I did okay, I guess..." Now why did she have to go and say something like that? I'm not sure if pouncing on her is the appropriate response, but it's definitely the most tempting one. (No. Bad Chloe. Down, girl.) "So...twenty-fifteen, was it?"

"Yup."

"Is that why you look..." I gesture at her vaguely. "...older?

"Pretty much."

"And why your hair is so long?"

"That's how hair usually works."

"Sorry." Combing my fingers through my own hair, I add, "It just looks like a lot for two years."

She gives a little shrug. "Technically three."

My mind sorta stumbles; I'm getting disturbingly used to the feeling. "Say what?"

"Two calendar years." She explains, like that helps. "But it works out to almost three years with all the rewinding."

"Wait, so you're actually twenty-one?"

She seems to think about it, silently counting on her fingers. "More like twenty and two-thirds, I guess."

"You guess?"

She shrugs again. "I don't really think about it."

"Sure you don't," I roll my eyes. Then, smirking, I add, "Cradle-robber."

"Oh, don't you even start. I had to put up with your 'I'm older so I know best' crap for years. You don't get to give me shit for being the older one now."

"I think we both know that's not true."

"Hm," she grunts, crossing her arms and staring off to the side a little. Translation: Chloe's right, Chloe wins, Chloe is the greatest.

"So," While I'm trying not to sound smug, I have to admit that I'm not trying very hard. "Why'd you stop cutting it?"

"Because you thought I should try growing it out. You liked it long." She hesitates. "You do like it, right?"

"Oh, I definitely like it," I answer truthfully. I never imagined Max with long hair, but it looks good on her. Really good. Like, 'I want to run my fingers through it with one hand, gazing into her eyes while the other hand has her moaning and writhing underneath me' good.

"Chloe?"

"Huh?" Startled, I realize I've been staring at her (not that she seems to mind) and I jump on the first question that comes to me. "Why'd you look normal back in my room, though? Younger, I mean."

"Jump lag," she says, simply. "It's a time travel thing."

I glance around, picking up a bottlecap from the floor and throwing it at her. "Try again, Caulfield."

"Hey!" She tries to bat the cap out of the air, misses, and gets hit right in the forehead. "Cut it out!"

Smirking, I hold up another bottlecap.

"Fine," she grumbles. "Basically, when I rewind there's a delay between my mind arriving and my body catching up with it."

"What? That's crazy. No there isn't."

"Yeah, there actually is."

"I'd have noticed."

"Been watching me that closely, have you?" she asks, grinning at the blush I can feel coloring my cheeks. "Seriously, though, it's really short. Like, a millisecond for every minute I go back. I'd have to rewind almost five hours just for the lag to take more than the blink of an eye."

Okay, that is pretty fucking fast. "A millisecond per minute?"

"That's right."

I start trying to figure that out. It shouldn't be too hard; math always came pretty easy to me, even if school didn't. So if there's twenty-four hours in a day, that works out to fourteen-hundred minutes. And since there's a thousand milliseconds in one second...

"Chloe?" Max asks, and I immediately lose my place.

"Just gimme a sec, will you?

I look away, adding up the numbers on my fingers as I go from hours to days to weeks, until I finally reach the answer I'm looking for. That's why I didn't see it when she went from bedroom Max to hospital Max. It must've happened in the ambulance. "Eighteen and a half."

"Eighteen and a half what?"

I realize I said the last part out loud. "Eighteen and a half minutes. That'd be the whatchamacallit after a two-year trip, right?"

"Uh, yeah. Almost exactly." She nods, looking impressed. Then a shadow crosses her face. "It wasn't all supposed to happen at once, though. That's what I've been trying to figure out. The plan was to break the trip into eight parts with a day in between. Two and a half minutes of lag each. Eighteen and a half means I did the whole trip in one rewind."

"Hardcore," I comment.

"But that should have been impossible," she adds, opening up the red bag she spent most of the drive here rooting through and dumping its contents on the floor. "And there's a ton of evidence that I didn't, too."

The small pile doesn't mean much to me; aside from a couple of small tools and a half-full water bottle, it's mostly empty food wrappers and a wadded-up bundle of cloth I'm pretty sure is a hammock. The only thing that really sticks out is the heavy resealable bag holding eight or so yellow tubes. While I can't quite place where I know them from, the needles sticking out of their ends are a little alarming.

"All the supplies I brought for the trip are used up. The hammock even has dirt on it."

"Okay, so then you broke it up into parts."

"But I'm not dirty. It should have taken me over a week to go the whole way, and I feel like I showered this morning. My hair isn't even tangled."

"They probably got you cleaned up at the hospital."

"So they brushed out my hair?" She holds up her hands. "But didn't get the dirt under my fingernails?"

I shrug, not sure which side she's arguing for. "I guess they don't offer manicures?"

"The clothes I'm wearing aren't dirty either. Like, at all. They were put in a sealed bag as soon as I got to the hospital, and they still smell like laundry detergent."

"Maybe you changed into fresh ones before you did the last rewind?"

"I didn't have any to change into."

"Seriously? Eight days with no fresh clothes?" I wrinkle my nose. "I've done the dirtbag punk thing a couple of times, but that's just gross."

"All I had room for was a spare t-shirt and some extra underwear." She holds up another resealable bag. "And they've all been worn."

"For fuck's sake, Max! Did you do it all at once or not?!"

"I don't know," she confesses, looking a little lost and even the tiniest bit scared. "I just...I don't remember the trip at all. All I remember is..."

"Is what?"

She shakes her head, shivering a little. "Just a bad dream."

I suddenly want nothing more than to pull her close and tell her everything is going to be okay. And unlike the distinctly hornier urges I've been having, this one is a lot harder to ignore. It feels like an actual, physical pull. Like some kind of gravity that's drawing me toward her, and if I just relax I'll fall right into her arms - and a big part of me really, really wants to do just that.

It's what actually steers me back to a very important and fairly intimidating thing that's been on my mind since she woke up. "Hey, Max?" I begin. "Can I ask a maybe-stupid question?"

She seems to shake off her unsettled vibe like it's nothing. I'm actually kinda jealous. "Go ahead."

"With all the...uh..." Flirting, kissing, steamy looks, touches, and loads of casual affection. "...stuff you've been doing since this morning, can I assume that in the future we're...y'know..." I gesture between Max and myself and she laughs softly. "What's so funny?"

"Sorry. You just made that exact same gesture the first time."

"First...time?" You better believe that phrase takes my imagination to some really interesting places.

"When we first talked about this," she explains. "And yes, Chloe. We were together in the future."

"Together," I echo. I'd already been thinking it (and let's be honest, kinda hoping it) but actually hearing it is a little weird.

It must be written all over my face, because she cringes a little. "Is that too much right now? I don't want to be...you know... too much."

"Right. Because you've been super chill up to now."

"I missed you," she fires back, a little defensively. Then, in a low voice, she adds. "And I'm coming off an eight-month dry spell so maybe cut me a little slack."

Hold on...let's just back up a little.

She said we were together. As in, past-tense. She said eight-month dry spell.

Were together. Dry spell.

Were. Dry spell.

Max minus me equals dry spell.

So then Max plus me equals...sex?

Error.

"Chloe? Chloe, are you okay?"

"Huh?"

"You kinda spaced out there for a second."

"We've had sex." Oh my fucking god, do I have a head injury?

"Oh...uh, kinda?" She shrugs a little awkwardly. "I mean, technically I've slept with you, but you've never slept with me."

Damn it. She's right, and I don't think I've ever been more annoyed about something in my entire life.

"Look, could we maybe not talk about our...er, my sex life right no-"

I'm honestly not sure which one of us is more shocked when I interrupt her with a disturbingly girlish giggle.

"What..." she laughs. "...was that?"

Holy shit, what the fuck was that? "...nothing."

"You giggled!"

"I did not!"

Smirking, Max narrows her eyes. "Sex."

To my horror, I actually fucking giggle again. What the fuck kind of pod person have I become? Can you be a pod person and not know you're a pod person? "Stop that!"

Naturally, Max seems to think my descent into madness is hilarious. "Sex!"

This time I slap a hand over my mouth and get away with nothing but a faintly choked noise.

"Okay, who are you and what have you done with Chloe Price?"

"Who are you and what have you done with my shy scrawny hipster?"

Lifting an eyebrow, she pulls the neck of her top out, peers underneath, then offers me a very interesting smile. "Not that scrawny."

She cackles joyfully when I let out another involuntary giggle. How the hell does she keep doing that?

"Look, hearing you say that is just weird. It's like hearing a kitten swear."

"Oh, really?"

Uh-oh. She's moving closer and I do not like that look in her eyes.

Alright, fine. I really like that look in her eyes and I'm fully on-board with everything it implies. I just don't like feeling as though I've completely lost control of the situation. Because let's be honest, I have. Again.

She's leaning in now, but just as I start thinking she's gonna kiss me again she shifts to one side. I barely have time to register the feeling of her cheek brushing against mine before her whisper tickles my ear. "...sex."

My breath catches in my throat and for a second, I can't think. I'm tingling all over and there's a very pleasant warmth pooling in my belly. I can already feel the mother of all blushes burning on my cheeks and right at that moment I'm pretty sure I'd be willing to sell one of my kidneys if it'd make all our clothes magically disappear.

Oh my god, why am I acting like this?

I'm nineteen years old, for fuck's sake! I've known Max since we were little and despite everything, she's still my best friend. She should not be having so much of an effect on me. I need to get a hold on myself. Even if Future Max is hella toned, and has those fucking killer tattoos, and that long hair I just want to run my fingers through, and those dope piercings I can sorta admit I'm a little jealous of, and keeps kissing me and smiling at me like that and pretty obviously wants me as bad as I want...

Okay, that's it.

"Stop. Time out," Careful to keep my hands away from any fun bits, I reach out and gently push her away. "How about we just slow down the sexy express for a second, okay?"

"Oh, sorry. I shouldn't have..." She trails off, embarrassed, and moves back to sit against the far wall. "I didn't mean to...

"No, you didn't do anything. I mean, not exactly. This is just..."

Fuck. How do I put this?

Hey, Max. I've been frustrating the fuck out of myself for years, fantasizing about jumping your bones even though I didn't think I'd ever see you again and kinda hated you a little. But now you're back and right here and super-obviously into me and my libido decided to take all those old fantasies, play them on repeat, then go full throttle without asking me for permission. Do you think you could do me a solid and just not be hot for a while?

Yeah, I don't think so.

"Just what?" she presses.

"Hella intense," I croak, finally.

"Oh. Is that...bad?" she asks nervously.

"I...uh...not exactly," I hedge. "But ever since we woke up this morning, it's like whenever I'm around you I get all crazy aware of everything you're doing. And everytime I'm looking at you it's like I can't think straight. And it feels like everything has been turned up to eleven and sometimes the only thing I can think about is how much I want to grab you and oh my fucking god what the hell is wrong with me?!" I shout, dropping my face into my hands.

"And you say I've got no chill."

"Shut up."

"I mean, if it makes you feel better, we...uh..." She trails off. "Never mind."

"We what?"

"It's nothing. Nothing helpful, anyway."

"Max..." I say, warningly.

"Alright," she huffs. "I was just going to say that we were both like that, when we first got together. We couldn't keep our hands off each other."

She was right. That really isn't a helpful place for my mind to go right now.

"We couldn't?" I ask, because of course I do.

"Right from the start. Like we were drawn to each other." She chuckles softly. "Which was kinda tricky, considering I was too much of a wuss to come out to my mom and dad."

Somehow, that's even more unbelievable. "Seriously? Your parents would be totally chill about that!"

"I know, I know. I was being dumb," she admits. "My point is that I get it, okay? And I'm sorry if I've been making things hard on you."

Somehow, I keep myself from making a dick joke. I feel like I deserve a medal for that. "Not your fault."

"It is, a little. I'll try to tone it down." She winks, patting the floor. "I'll even stay all the way over here, just in case."

"Thanks. I mean, that'd be good right now. I guess." It's weird to be so in favor of an idea, and yet so against it at the same time. "So, how about we talk about literally anything else now?"

"Sounds good," she laughs. She still has a really pretty laugh. "What did you have in mind?"

With all the really fun stuff taken off the table, we might as well deal with the elephant in the room. "How about the big rewind? Seems like something worth talking about."

"Right. That." She lets out a slow breath. "It's like I told you, Arcadia Bay is going to get wiped out by a storm on F-"

"On Friday. Yeah, I remember. That's not why you're here, though." I'm actually a little offended by how surprised she looks. "C'mon, Max. If this were about Arcadia Bay and this storm of yours, you wouldn't have waited so long before coming back. Something else happened down the line, so fess up."

She hesitates, again, which is getting pretty annoying. For someone who promised she'd tell me everything, it seems like there's a lot she doesn't want to share.

"It was me, wasn't it? I died." Once I started thinking about it, it was a pretty easy conclusion to come to. "You said you missed me, earlier. You can't miss someone unless they're gone."

"I..." She doesn't immediately deny it, which is probably as good as a yes. "I wanted to ease you into it."

"Too late now," I laugh. I should probably take this more seriously, but how many times has Max kept me alive in the last couple of days? Two? Three? I'd rather just get to the point already. "So, how'd I go out? Was it cool, at least? Like, did I die saving a baby from a burning building or something?"

She shakes her head sadly. "Nothing like that."

"It must've been pretty epic if you had to come back so far to stop it. I didn't get abducted by aliens, did I?"

"It was cancer."

I've changed my mind. I don't want to get to the point anymore.

"You died from terminal lung cancer," she continues, adding. "In early 2015."

"Oh, fuck." Hold on. I start shaking my head, like it'll make her change her mind. This can't be right. I must be missing something. I can't get cancer. I'm only nineteen. "No. No, that's bullshit."

"I'm sorry, Chloe, but it isn't."

"No," I repeat, louder. "You're wrong."

"I can't tell you how much I wish I was."

"Stop that! Stop talking like I'm already sick! I'm not gonna get cancer!" I'm shouting now, feeling so blind-sided that I almost miss the way she flinches. "What?"

"You're right," she sighs, looking down. "You're not going to get cancer."

"That's what I sa-"

"You already have it."

The entire world slams to a halt. "W-what?"

"You have lung cancer, Chloe. Right now."

"But...but I'm fine. I feel fine." Mostly fine, at least. Maybe I'm not in the best shape but being lazy doesn't give you fucking cancer! "And I smoke weed! Isn't weed supposed to prevent cancer or something?"

"No. The THC just helps in treating the chemotherapy nausea." I don't know why, but the matter-of-fact way she says that chills me to the fucking bone.

I don't know how to deal with this. I can't deal with this. It'd been weird enough staring down a future where I was dead, but I figured whatever happened to me could be prevented this time around. Like getting shot or hit by a train, I'd just have to not be in the wrong place at the wrong time. But this? I can't outrun this. I can't dodge out of the way or even avoid it, because it's already inside my chest.

"But...I don't wanna." I don't even care how stupid that sounds. For some reason, I just want to go home and hug my mom. "There's got to be something..."

"There is. There absolutely is." She takes my hand. "It's still early. Last time you didn't get diagnosed until way later, and by then it was too late. The sooner you're in treatment, the better your chances."

"Fuck," I whisper. It feels like my brain is completely locked up and going a mile a minute at the same time. "This...this is so fucked."

"I know, but you've got good odds if we get on top of it now. Not if you wait."

Nodding slowly, I'm not even aware that I'm pulling the pack of cigarettes from my pocket until I feel Max's hand come to rest on top of them.

"Chloe, you're more important to me than you would believe," she says, seriously. "Which is why I swear to god I will slap you if you ever put one of those things in your mouth again."

"Max, I..." I glance at the pack in my hand. "Just one more?"

"No."

"Just to take the edge off?"

"Slap you, Chloe," Max repeats, without the slightest hint of a smile. "Right in the face. Not even joking."

"Fuck." Crushing the pack in my fist, I toss it into the corner with a scowl. "There. Happy now?"

Smiling, she squeezes my hand. "Thank you."

"Yeah, sure," I mutter, still wrestling with the 'I've got cancer' thing. It fucking figures, though. Rachel was always on me to quit, anyway. She'd be giving me the biggest 'I told you so' look right now. I mean, she would if she were...here...

Like magic, the entire concept of cancer gets booted out of my head. "Wait! Holy shit! Do you know where Rachel is? I mean, we must have found her, right?"

After two more years, she must have turned up! If Arcadia Bay got wiped out, there's no way she wouldn't have wanted to make sure I was okay. She probably called me (or, let's be real, sent me an email) before the dust had even settled.

I bet she went down to LA after all, and somewhere in her weird Rachel-brain she got the idea that she'd be doing me a favor by not telling me. Or she thought that if she did tell me, I'd end up following her down there like some pathetic lovesick puppy. Which I probably would have, but who the fuck cares now?!

This is awesome! Even if I'm gonna be sick as fuck, I'll finally be able to introduce Max and Rachel. I always figured they'd be friends. Oh damn, I can't wait to get the jump on her! I'll call her first and surprise the fuck out of...

...why is Max looking at me like that?

"Max? What is it?"

"I..." She hesitates, glancing away, and the shadow that passes over her face makes my blood run cold.

"We...we do find her, don't we?"

She nods slowly. "We do, but..."

"But what?" I press, getting scared now. "But what, Max?"

"I...I'm so sorry, Chloe."