The fuck is taking so long?
All Max had to do was talk to Chase and feed a rabbit, right? What could possibly be taking so long? Because the longer I stand here, the more likely it is that someone's gonna wonder why. At least I didn't stay in the trees like Max wanted me to. For all her talk about 'plans', you'd think she'd know that some blue-haired chick lurking in the bushes is pretty much guaranteed to attract unwanted attention.
"Fuck's sake," I hiss, forcing my hands apart to keep from picking at my own nails. This is so stupid. It hasn't even been two hours yet, and all I can think about is having a smoke. Tweaking addict isn't a good look on me, and I'm really not loving having to deal with the nic twitches right now.
Leaning against the side of the dorm building and trying to look casual, I absently raise a hand to rub my chest and take as deep a breath as I can. What is cancer supposed to feel like? My lungs don't hurt or anything. They feel pretty normal, actually. But then, what's normal for a chain-smoker who never exercises? Maybe it does hurt, but I've just gotten so used to the pain that I don't notice anymore. Wouldn't be the first time.
I realize I've started picking at my nails again and angrily jam my hands in my pockets. Someone is smoking nearby. I can smell it, and it smells really good. I'm pretty sure they're just around the corner, and it's not doing a lot for my patience. I'm just debating whether to go ask for a drag like the nicotine-addicted loser I am when I'm saved by the side door opening.
Max looks surprised, glancing between me and the tree line. "What are you doing here?"
"Waiting for you."
"No, what are you doing here," she emphasizes, pointing to the ground.
"Waiting for you." I repeat, mimicking her tone and trying not to laugh at her irritation. "Took you long enough, too."
She gives me that 'I'm annoyed at you but I'm not going to give you the satisfaction of hearing me say it' look of hers, as if I don't already know. She's always been so easy to mess with and, like almost everything else today, it kinda makes me want to kiss her.
Because apparently I can just do that now.
"I got delayed," she finally says.
"Anyone looking for you?"
"I don't think so. It just took me longer than I expected to get to Victoria's room." She shakes her head, chuckling. "I was headed there when I unexpectedly found out someone is gay. And I had to come out to, like, three people on the way. On the bright side, I found a bunny-sitter for Alice and I might've fixed Warren up with Brooke Scott."
"Uh...okay."
"It was a whole thing."
"Sounds like." I pause. "Who needed the gaydar sweep? It wasn't Victoria, was it?"
"No, it wasn't Victoria."
"Then...?"
"It's...complicated," she murmurs. "I can't go into it without talking about someone else who isn't out, and I gave them my word I wouldn't."
"Oh. Right." I think back to the brief time I'd spent thinking I'd accidentally outed Max to Kate. "No, I get that."
"Thanks."
I shrug, doing my best to stifle my curiosity. "So how'd Tricky Vicky handle the big reveal, anyway?"
"Don't call her that."
"Why not?"
"It's just a personal thing for her." I wait for her to provide more of an explanation, but apparently I'll have to live without it. "Anyway, she took things fairly well. Better than I expected. Definitely better than a lot of people would have."
"Well, whooptie-shit for her." I roll my eyes. "I can't see you two as friends. Back when you first said it, I actually thought 'is she talking about the same Victoria Chase? About my height, blonde, total bitch?' Because that was how crazy it sounded."
"Tell me how you really feel, why don't you?"
"Just sayin'."
"Victoria was the only person I could talk to after I lost you. And if it helps, she was a very different person by 2015. She lost everything to the storm. Her parents. Her friends. Her home. You and I still had each other, but she didn't have anyone."
Well, shit. How that hell am I supposed to argue with that? Losing my dad just about crushed me. I lost Max, too, but I still knew she was out there somewhere. I can't even imagine what I'd have done if I'd lost everybody I knew.
"She didn't even have access to her family's money," Max continues. "She had a job, drove a regular car, and lived on a pretty tight budget."
"Well, way to make her sound like a real person."
"She was a real person," Max insists, adding, "I think you'd have liked her."
"The fuck I would have."
"I'm serious. Believe it or not, she's actually a huge sci-fi nerd."
"You should've tried telling me she was a space alien," I roll my eyes. "I actually might have believed that."
"I'm serious," she laughs. "And I really do think you guys could be friends, too."
"Uh-huh," I mutter.
"Without her help, I'd never have made it back. She let herself get wiped out of existence so I could come back and save you, so..." She lets the sentence hang like some big ol' guilt-trippy cloud.
"Alright, fine. She's never been anything but a bitch to me, but I'll give her another chance, okay?"
"That's all I ask. Now let's ge-" Max cuts off with a faint choking noise, staring wide-eyed at something over my shoulder. Glancing around, I don't see anything worth freaking over. Just a couple of jock types chucking a football around, good old Samuel fiddling with the sprinklers, and some pretentious-looking hipster dude.
"What are y-urk!" Max jerks me back around, balling her fists in my jacket and pressing her face into my chest. I'd probably be a lot more into it if she weren't shaking from head to toe. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"Don't turn around."
I glance over my shoulder again. There still isn't anyone worth giving a shit about. "Why not?"
"He's over there. He's right there and you can't turn around."
"Who the fuck is he?"
"Jefferson." It's scary, the way she snarls the name. Until now I wouldn't have believed Max was even capable of expressing that much hatred, let alone be able to pour it all into one word. "We have to g-"
"Max?" It's the hipster guy, who's apparently decided to come over to say hi. I don't see what's so scary about him.
"Oh no, oh please god no, don't do this to me..." I swear, it's like she's trying to crawl inside my jacket.
"It's okay, Max," I shifting to the side just enough to block her from the guy's sight. "Just say the word and we're gone."
"...no," she whispers back, slowly releasing the grip she has on my jacket. "I'm...I'm okay. I can do this."
"Do what?" I murmur, keenly aware that what's-his-name is getting closer. I don't give a fuck who this asshole is; if he tries to lay a finger on Max I'm gonna kick the living shit out of him. "C'mon, Max. Gimme something to work with here."
"I see you there, Max Caulfield," he calls out again. She pulls back, glaring at my shirt like she can see right through me.
"He's nothing," she hisses. "He's nothing."
"Wha-"
She's already stepped around me before I can ask what that is supposed to mean, giving this guy a bright smile. "Hi, Mr. Jefferson. Fancy meeting you here."
"At the school where you live, and I work?" He smirks. "Imagine that."
Max responds with an embarrassed laugh, and if I hadn't heard the vicious way she said his name a few seconds ago, I swear I'd have thought it was legit. "Oh, right."
Wait a second. I do know this guy. This is that photography teacher that Rachel (don'tthinkaboutitdon'tthinkaboutit) kept going on and on about. Apparently he's some big-time artistic genius. He just looks like another too-rich-for-his-own-good asshole to me.
"Hm." He turns to me, giving me an appraising once-over I've seen plenty of times. Like he's trying to decide whether or not I'm worth his time. "Who's your friend?"
"Oh, this is Chloe," she says, curling her arm around my back and resting her hand on my hip. It's a small, affectionate gesture that kinda makes me feel warm all over and even soothes my temper a little. "She's my Chloe."
"Well, nice to meet you, Chloe."
"Yeah, you too," I mutter distractedly, a bit more interested in Max calling me 'her Chloe' than with some rando. Apparently he doesn't give two shits about me either, because I haven't even finished speaking before he's turned his attention back to Max.
"I'm glad I ran into you, Max. I noticed you haven't handed in a photograph for the Everyday Heroes competition. You are planning to submit one, aren't you?"
"I haven't decided yet," she shrugs. "After everything that happened yesterday with Kate? And then Nathan getting suspended? Honestly, photography has been the last thing on my mind."
For a half-second, I swear that he gets this crazy-intense light in his eyes. It's so brief that I can't tell whether he looked angry or offended. "I suppose that's fair. But for better or worse, Miss Marsh made her own choices."
Damn. That's cold.
"She's my friend. I was worried about her."
"I understand that. And I'm happy that she's getting the help she needs," he adds. He's sounds sympathetic, but even I can tell he's full of shit. "But take some advice from someone who's been in the industry for a while. You shouldn't let other people's shortcomings stand in the way of your success."
Other people's shortcomings? I'm starting to think there's something not right about this guy.
"What do you mean?"
"I know this might sound harsh, but friends come and go. A missed opportunity is gone forever."
Max tenses beside me. Her smile doesn't go anywhere, but I can feel her hand shaking against my hip and for a second I'm sure that she's about to tear him a new asshole. I wouldn't blame her. I've known Kate for less than a day, and even I think he just earned a solid boot to the nuts. Then she suddenly relaxes, nodding slightly. "You're right. It is stupid to pass up a good opportunity, isn't it?"
"Absolutely," he agrees. "So I can count on you to submit an entry?"
"Of course," Max laughs, and I feel her hand slide from my hip to the gun still tucked out of sight at the small of my back. Smoothly pulling it out of my jeans, keeping it out of sight, she adds, "Just need to wait for the right moment."
What the fuck is she doing? What the fuck is happening right now?
"Come on, Max," he scolds gently, unaware he's talking to someone holding a fucking gun. "What have I said about that?"
"I know, I know." I'm not sure what's scarier; that her laugh sounds so casual, or that it's just loud enough to cover the sound of the gun's hammer being pulled back. "Always take the shot."
Oh my god.
Max is gonna cap this guy. She's gonna blow his fucking head off right here and he'll never see it coming.
"That's rig-"
"Hey, Max!" I interrupt, throwing my arm around her shoulders, keeping her from stepping away. "We've got to get going, don't we?"
She looks up at me, blinking like she's coming out of a trance. "I...what?"
"You...uh..." Bullshit powers, don't fail me now. "You said you'd go to the clinic with me, remember? Hold my hand?"
From the corner of my eye, I see Jefferson give me a disdainful look and wonder what he's thinking. That I'm pregnant? Whether I've got some fucked-up STD? The whole 'burnout from the wrong side of the tracks' image has its uses, I guess.
"R-right. Of course. Sorry." Max nods, shakily. "I guess we should go."
"That's fine," Jefferson says, as if we need his fucking permission. He offers me a brief, tight smile. "Don't let me keep you."
Whatever, asshole. I just saved your fucking life.
"I'll see you later, Max," he adds, turning to leave. "And I'll be waiting for that photo."
Keeping my eyes on him as he walks away, I reach back to take the gun from Max's hand. She's holding it so loosely now that I'm surprised she hasn't already dropped it. Careful to keep it out of sight, I very gently let the hammer move forward before tucking it back into my jeans. I turn back to Max to find her glaring at Jefferson, and holy shit. If looks could fucking kill.
"Let's go." I grab Max's wrist and pull her toward the tree line.
We walk for a few minutes, stomping through the brush until I'm sure that Blackwell is out of sight. We've just about reached the halfway point between the school and my truck when I round on her. Surprised, she staggers to a halt.
"Care to tell me what the fuck that was about?"
"I..." She shakes her head, slowly. "Not now."
"Wrong answer," I growl through clenched teeth.
"I mean it, Chloe. Not now."
In the last fifteen minutes I've wanted to kiss her, protect her, beat up a stranger for her, and (as of about three seconds ago) smack her upside the head. For a minute there, I was even a little afraid of her. I almost feel bad for future Chloe; being in a relationship with Max must be fucking exhausting. "Remember when you promised to tell me everything?"
"Of course, and I will. But there are other people who need to hear this and I don't want to talk about it more than I have to."
I don't want to let her off the hook, even temporarily, because I want to know why in the hell I just had to stop her from killing one of her teachers in public. I almost feel like turning her upside down and shaking her until the answers I want come loose...but I don't.
The kind of extreme reaction Max just had doesn't come from nowhere and doesn't come out without a good reason. Something happened to her. Something that piece of shit back there is responsible for. And whatever that might have been, if it was bad enough to bring out Max Caulfield's homicidal side, I'm not going to make her go over it any more than she has to. "Fine. But I'm not letting this go."
"I wouldn't expect you to. Thank you."
I don't say anything. Pulling the gun out again, I hold it up between us and pop the cylinder out. Ejecting the remaining bullets into my hand, I stuff them into my pocket and close the cylinder again. If she decides to go all murder-y again, she'll have to fight me for them.
Sticking the now-unloaded gun back in my jeans, I silently dare her to say something about it.
She doesn't.
Smart.
"So," I say, resuming the hike back to the truck. "What's next, future-girl?"
"There's one more person we need to see."
"Oh, awesome. Who's it gonna be this time? Satan?"
She doesn't answer right away, and the look she gives me makes me regret asking. "Just promise me that you'll keep an open mind?"