Chloe & Max
When her lunch with Victoria was up, she collapsed on her bed and pulled out her phone with a grin.
hey dork. gotta minute?
Gimme a bit. With a friend.
She tapped out another message quickly enough.
Alright, I’m back. Sorry about that.
The response came near-instantly.
no problem
So, what’s up?
She casually fiddled with her pen as she waited for a response from her friend.
well, i figured we had to play 20 questions
since we dont know each other well and were friends now
Ah. She sent back fast. I’m up for that.
aight
She sent a response before the punk could go on.
*all right
oh, shuttup
She snickered into her hand.
Do your worst, Punk.
There was a pause. She kicked her legs impatiently.
well, we’ll trade off on whos asking questions
me 1st
favorite color?
Green.
Uh - what’s your’s?
black
She snorted.
How cold and angsty of you.
shut it
She snorted again.
if you want something less emo so bad, blue is probably 2nd best
She grinned at the screen.
How cliche.
okay, you really need to stop with the sass, dork
Can’t help it. Victoria gets me in a mood. She sent back.
uh
how did you meet victoria?
We’re at the same college. Man, these questions weren’t tough at all.
This is too easy.
well, just you wait
She considered her next question for a moment. The answer came easily once she realized what she didn’t want the punk to be.
How old are you?
Learning that the girl she’d been texting was actually 43 or something would certainly be… well, shocking, at least.
But she didn’t really expect her to answer with anything higher then 22 anyway, which was why she didn’t feel a touch of nervousness before the answer came.
19
You?
18 she sent back in a moment.
I thought you said they’d get harder?
no, i said to wait
patience, young padawan
She rolled her eyes, feeling just as light and floaty as she always did when texting the punk.
She thought more carefully about her next question, flipping her pen between her fingers.
When the answer came to her, she paused for just a moment before sending it. When she did, she felt a tiny, nervous knot tie in her stomach.
Are you straight?
There wasn’t even a pause.
bi
She stared at the tiny message and wondered why the knot tightened instead of melting.
you ever had sex, dork?
She couldn’t help the incredulous snort that left her before she answered.
Nope.
just as i thought
She wondered if she should be offended by that, before deciding that it hardly mattered - because, whether she should be or not, she wasn’t.
Okay, you’re a punk, so
Got any tattoos?
a big one, all down my right arm
What of? She typed back quickly, curiosity gripping her tightly.
aint your turn yet, dork
She groaned.
Buzzkill.
oh my god please dont call me that
She blinked, slightly surprised by the first truly serious text the punk had ever sent.
Uh. Okay.
Sorry. She added quickly, as it struck her that calling a punk life-of-the-party like this girl a ‘buzzkill’ might actually be a little offensive.
no need to apologize
just
thats what i call my stepdad near-constantly, so
Oh.
Bad memories?
She kept it vague as she could, aware that - if they were bad - the girl might not want to talk about them.
in a manner of speaking
not horrible, but
well. me and him just dont see eye to eye
Oh.
She gathered the vestiges of her courage and typed, quickly,
yknow, if you ever need to talk to anyone…
She left it there. A moment later, a response came.
ill vent to you, sure
whatre friends for?
Max couldn’t help but think a sardonic smirk was on the girl’s face when she sent that.
wait, it isnt your turn!
cheater!
now i get to ask 2
She simply sent back an easy Okay.
Shoot.
what’s your hair and eye color?
She blinked and considered that this could be the start of a sext.
She shook off the thought and responded.
Brown hair and blue eyes.
You?
blue&purple hair, blue eyes
thats 2 questions, so i get to ask 2 again
Right. Of course the punk girl dyed her hair.
favorite food?
Pancakes.
Man, this really was super easy.
oh
She furrowed her brow.
What?
nothing
She tried to shake the sudden anxiety that clung to her ribs like tar.
height?
5’5
shortie
She bristled in her bed.
I am not! That is a perfectly respectable height!
im 4 inches taller, and im not exactly ‘tall’
youre a total shortie
For a moment she wished the punk girl was in her bed so she could smack her upside the head.
Then she very quickly diverted her mind from the image of the girl lying with her, tattoos covering one of her arms and dark blue eyes glinting predatorily in the late evening light.
I guess I should ask if you have any medical conditions.
Despite the casual tone, she couldn’t help but worry a little at the idea that her new, angsty, sardonic and sometimes absolutely adorable friend having something wrong with her.
nope. just a stoner and a smoker
She sighed slightly, in both relief and exasperation.
Of course you’re a smoker, too, you damn punk.
thats me
what about you? any conditions?
She considered.
Well, I get nosebleeds a lot, but I don’t think that’s really a medical condition.
I’ve never gotten a tan, I just burn, but again - don’t think that counts.
Freckles?
you have freckles?
...yes? It kinda completes my whole hipster look.
can i get a picture?
She blinked.
Uh… yeah, sure, I guess.
She positioned her phone to get one of her cheek without showing her whole face, but realized it would be too dark to be really visible.
She considered - and then tilted her neck to expose as much skin as she could and took a quick picture of that instead.
She pulled back and scrutinized it.
It was decent, she supposed, and it certainly showed that she indeed had young, pale skin and freckles. She sent it without a second thought, not considering that her low v-neck and tilted neck made for quite the eyefull.
When she did, there was a long moment during which there was no response. It slightly confused her, considering the rest of the punk’s responses had come so quickly, but it didn’t occur to her to be worried.
oh
And the response that did come did nothing to help her confusion.
She wasn’t quite sure what question to ask, so she just sent what she always did when she was simply confused.
…?
uh
right
sorry
just
something distracted me for a sec
wont happen again
i guess its your turn?
Oh.
Right.
She thought about it for a moment.
Oh. Right. The tattoo.
What’s your tattoo?
uh
i could just show you?
Show…?
Right. A picture of her own.
Well, it would probably confirm it wasn’t a catfish, at least.
Yeah, sure.
There was a pause.
Then her phone vibrated in her hand again, and she was treated to her first picture of the punk.
Her arm was laid out on what looked like a nightstand. The framing was awful, of course, but the lighting actually wasn’t half-bad. And, more importantly, she got a good view of the punk’s arm.
It was pale, was the first thing that really registered. It occurred to her only as she saw it that the punk might not have been white, but the point was moot by now anyway since she so obviously was. She was actually a bit paler then Max herself - probably a lot of time spent indoors. It made sense, because Max did spend a lot of time outside, even if she couldn’t tan to save her life.
But then she began to really look at the tattoo on display.
It was… colorful. That was the first thing that really struck her about it, and she supposed it made sense that it would be, but for some reason she only ever thought of tattoos as black.
It was also big. It covered her arm up, past her elbow, and all the way to her shoulder. Max figured it had probably hurt like hell to get, if what she had heard about getting tattoos was right.
The image itself, once she got past those details, was…
Well, it was certainly in fitting with the punk theme.
The focal point was (of course, Max couldn’t help but think) a skull, stark and grinning its vacant grin in the middle of the colorful ink. It was surrounded by foliage - thorny vines and red-pink roses. A single ribbon twirled around the image, the same shade as the roses were, just far enough away from the rest of the tattoo to give off the impression that it was hovering.
And, sitting atop the rosebuds and flying away, were just a few blue-winged butterflies.
Butterflies, eh? She sent quickly, trying to ignore how much she wished she could get a shot of that arm, ink sparkling in the evening light. It really was a great subject, though the punk it was attached to obviously didn’t know how to handle such a beautiful image.
Real punk.
oh, shuttup. The punk sent back, and she couldn’t help but grin again.
it was just for the palette
Oh, really? Nothing having to do with how pretty they are?
dork, you really best stop with the sass, or ill have to ask something very embarrassing next
Bring it on, Punk. She sent back, more then a little daringly.
whats your most embarrassing moment?
oh, and you cant lie
were going on truth or dare rules
How uncreative. She sent back, mostly to stall for time as she considered.
There were a few obvious ones, of course, but… the moment when she had been most embarrassed…?
She really thought about it. Really thought about the sensation in her gut when she was anxious and embarrassed - the way her stomach seemed to turn to slush and slosh around, the way her blood froze in her veins.
...Oh, fuck.
It was when she went swimming with Victoria at nearly midnight, after trashing Jefferson’s office.
Fuck.
And she couldn’t pass or lie, either, because it was truth or dare rules. Her honor was on the line - and if she tried to pass, then she’d just have to do a dare instead. And she didn’t want punk girl daring her anything.
Her phone buzzed, and she suddenly remembered she had sent the punk a text just a moment ago.
yeah, but im going for revenge, not creativity
stop stalling and spill
Shit. Shitshitshit.
She typed in a pass, and deleted it a moment later. She typed out something - a lie, probably - but erased that, too.
She closed her eyes and let out a slow breath.
Finally, she resolved that the truth was best.
Actually, it was fairly recently. She tapped out quickly, sending it before she lost her nerve.
You remember me mentioning a midnight swim, the first night I texted you?
uh, yeah. it was part of your reasons for being a trashfire
And y’know that girl Victoria I’ve been talking about?
yes?
oh
oh god
I see you’re catching on quick. She couldn’t help the tiny smile that tugged at her lips.
yeah, but youre still telling the story
i wanna hear this
Not much to tell, really. She sent back quickly.
Me am closet gay. Me have crush on friend. Friend wants to go swimming. Embarrassment ensues.
For me, at least.
that
is both awful and great
i wish i could see your face
youre probably so blushy, you damn dork
For the shortest moment, she was tempted to take a picture of herself and send it. She shook the insane urge, wondering when exactly in this conversation her sanity had left her.
You’re correct.
Luckily, I have the filter that is my phone, so…
No blushies for you.
aw, fiddlesticks
She couldn’t help the laugh that spilled from her, loud and ugly and short.
‘Fiddlesticks’? Are you sure I’M the dork?
oh, hell yeah
i mean, look at those freckles
She snickered, and then reached a hand up when she felt something tickle her bottom lip.
When she pulled the hand away, it was bloody.
She cursed, briefly and quietly, and reached over to grab a tissue before responding.
Don’t *even* insult my freckles!
Kate finds them endearing, I’ll have you know.
‘kate’?
Oh yeah. Nicest girl you’ll ever meet. Real ‘good christian samaritan’ type. The kinda girl a mom would love to see their son bring home.
She ripped off a little of the tissue when most of the blood was gone from her lip, and screwed it up to be used as a makeshift stopper. She stuck it far enough up her nostril for it to tickle, and typed out another message as she repeated the process for the other nostril.
She’s my BFF
really? not victoria?
god, ill have to shorten that. its a pain to type
She considered the question.
She supposed that she hung out with Victoria more, but the blonde had never felt quite like a normal friend. Certainly not the type you would label a BFF.
Eventually, she just gave the question the equivalent of a mental shrug and sent back,
I dunno. I guess not.
Anyway, it’s my turn anyhow.
and i think thats my cue to leave before you take revenge
She felt a little disappointment spark and die in her chest.
Oh, come on! One last question for the road?
alright, sure
but i wanna last question too
She thought about it for a long moment.
How about I ask a question and we both answer?
i can live with that
She considered it. When the answer came to her, she hesitated, and then typed it out before she lost her nerve, hitting the send button without letting herself think about it.
What’s your name?
The simple question seemed to peer up at her from the screen as she waited.
There was an awful second when no response was forthcoming, and she was afraid none would ever come.
And then her phone vibrated. She nearly dropped it.
chloe
She stared at the simple, tiny answer, and felt something not unlike vertigo spin in her head for a moment.
...Chloe.
It was a nice name.
Max. She sent back.
She didn’t hesitate for even a moment before she did.
good night, max
She smiled, helpless and wide and giddy.
Sweet dreams, Chloe.
That, officially, was the end of the conversation. But Max’s phone didn’t turn off for a long time after that.
As a matter of fact, she couldn’t bring herself to take her eyes off the simple good night max until a battery warning noise yanked her out of her stupor.
She didn’t know what Chloe was doing in her bed that night. Couldn’t have known.
And yet, a part of her hoped the blue-haired girl was doing the same thing.