Smitten but not Bitten
“Vic, what are you doing?”
“Huh?” I barely even register the question posed to me.
“Like, why did you just bust out those binoculars?”
Oh, right. I suppose that could use some explanation.
I drop the binoculars from my eyes for a few seconds, turning to look at Courtney. She and Taylor sit close together, forming a rough triangle towards me. I suppose the formation looks a little awkward, what with my whole body turned perpendicular to them, leaning up against one of the trees that provides an informal sitting area for students in the quad.
Courtney’s eyebrows are shifted up, expectant of an answer, but Taylor is trying to trace the destination of my binocular spying. I should probably come up with a pretty good excuse before she gets too far.
“I’m … ah. Bird watching,” I reply, hefting the binoculars again. I mean, people use binoculars for that, right? Come to think of it, I’m not really sure what else people typically use binoculars for.
Taylor’s gaze returns back to me, particularly confused. “What birds?”
I look around a little for a possible distraction, and notice one perched atop the Blackwell fountain.
I point at it immediately, “That one.”
I raise my binoculars back to my eyes and continue observing.
“Tori, that’s a pigeon.”
“Yeah? I never said it was anything special. It’s just … interesting.”
Even though she was flipped upside down, the detail through the binoculars are clear enough that I could notice when my suspicions are confirmed. Max Caulfield slips the back of her clear plastic paint brush in her mouth and begins to chew. Even though the stem is translucent, I’m pretty sure I can see bite marks all along it.
“She fucking … !” I’m not exactly sure what to call what she’s doing, but she’s doing the thing. She’s doing it again!
“She who?” Courtney asks.
“Max Caulfield, right?” Taylor asks … but also responds.
My eyes snap away from the binoculars immediately, locking onto Taylor. I go to question how she could possibly know this before I realize what she has in her hands. My camera.
“Looks like her camera’s totally filled with-”
“GIVE ME THAT!” I abandon the binoculars entirely, standing up just enough to lunge at her. She doesn’t even resist as I snatch the camera from her hands, cradling it against my chest.
“Uhh,” Coutney emits flatly. There’s a long pause of awkward silence. “Why do you have creeper photos of Max on your camera?”
I practically growl at her, but I can tell she is unimpressed. It’s hard to be scary after you’ve just embarrassed yourself. I’m going to have to explain instead.
“It’s … um. For a research project.”
Taylor picks up the questioning now, “What sort of research project?”
I bite my upper lip, trying to think of the best way to phrase it. I have to make them understand.
“Okay, look. I know this is going to sound a little weird but I … think Max has an oral fixation.”
They give me blank stares.
“No, look, guys. You don’t understand. She’s constantly chewing up shit. Look.”
I scoot up to them, and they slide over enough that I can fit between them. I lift the camera up between us, showing the preview screen.
“Okay, look. Max chews on straws after she’s done. Max chews on pencils while writing essays. Max chews on fucking paint brushes when she paints. And I mean, Taylor, you know she’s chewing gum all the time in class.”
“Uh, Vic, why is that one shot through a pane of gl-”
“Oh, nevermind that. Just look! She’s chewing on stuff all the time. That’s weird, right?”
Again, it’s the blank, judgey stares from both of them.
My voice is almost whiny by now, but I don’t see how they’re not getting it. “I mean, she’s weird! Like really weird!”
Taylor shrugs. “I mean, she puts shit in her mouth. It’s kinda whatever, you know?”
Courtney piles more on before I get the chance to respond, “Yeah, and I mean, Rachel’s got that thing where she’s always moving her hands, or like, her feet if she’s writing or something.”
“Oh, pah,” I dismiss the thought. No, Rachel was annoying, but she wasn’t incredibly fucking weird. She wasn’t constantly getting on my nerves with all the weird habits and tics. She didn’t constantly draw my eyes with an endless parade of subtle nonsense. She wasn’t like a little, living, breathing, freckled puzzle with brown hair. Nothing about Rachel kept me up at night.
But, something changes about the scene. Max finally looks up from the miniatures that she’s painting as Dana arrives at the side of the bench, and after a short greeting, she sits down beside Max.
“Honestly, Tori, I think you’re just being a little … weird.”
I barely even hear what they have to say, because I’ve set my camera down and crawled back to my binoculars, settling down onto my stomach as I raise them to my eyes.
What’s Dana doing with Max? Why is she giggling? Why are Max’s eyes doing that adorable crinkly nonsense now that Dana is here?
Why is Dana’s hair down?
Why is Dana’s hair down?
Dana’s hair is never down.
And then, Dana, without even thinking about it, pushes her hair behind her ear, and a row of bruises along the side of her neck are revealed.
“Motherfucker,” I murmur.
I drop the binoculars down a few inches, but then I stoop my head down as well, settling my forehead against the eye pieces.
“Huh?” Taylor asks. “What’s up?”
“Max has definitely got an oral fixation, all right,” I mutter again, falling back onto the grass. “She’s so weird and gross.”
Taylor tries to redirect her efforts as I set the binoculars down. “Yeah, well, I mean, I guess …”
But it does nothing to help. I just raise my hands to my face and try to block out the sunlight, the day, my surroundings.
Max is super weird, she bites everything, and she won’t bite me.
Everything sucks.