— 𝓃𝑒𝓌 𝒶𝒸𝓆𝓊𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓈 —

𝓢𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓶𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 entirety of the cramped room for the remainder of chemistry class, and Chloe found herself focusing closely on the brief whispered conversations between her classmates up until the very moment the dismissal bell rang. Shaken from her previous daze, the girl stands, closing her textbook and stuffing it away in her backpack. Perhaps it was her lack of sleep, or maybe the abundance of reading she had just endured — no matter the cause, Chloe somehow forgot the newfound presence of Max, and left him behind on her short venture to her locker. Before she had the chance to turn the dial and enter her combination, the boy had slumped onto the locker next to her with a mixture of question and disappointment.

"You forgot about me," Max assumes, crossing his arms over his chest, and furrowing his eyebrows, "unless you intentionally left me behind, but that's not the point. I had to sit at the back of the class."

With a slight laugh, Chloe's attention is averted towards her locker. "How was your chemistry partner?"

"He's a bag full of sparkles and fluffy unicorns," he jokes, flashing his pearly teeth. "Brooks isn't that bad, he's surprisingly in-tact. By the looks of his tattoos, you'd think he has no capacity for love and capabilities for everything except education — quite the opposite, if I'm being honest."

"Within the hour you had to converse with him, you learned that he has the capacity for love?" Chloe turns to face Max, shaking her head in disdain.

Maxen runs his fingers through his disheveled hair, a sigh falling from his lips. "Brooks isn't a complicated person to understand. I think we could be close friends — we even have next class together."

In her years of knowing Brooks, not once had Chloe overheard a single conversation, or held one which consisted of the very words that Max had spoken. They dripped from his lips like warm honey, sweet with simplicity and ease. And yet Brooks' personality was often described as complex, even by his closest friend. Somehow Max had gotten closer to Brooks in a single class than anyone had in years of acquaintance.

"Look at you, making new friends on your own," she smiles, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I'm proud of you. But if you'll excuse me, Spanish is on the opposite side of the building and I am a slow walker."

Removing her hand from his shoulder, Chloe closes her bright blue locker, before maneuvering around him while attempting to place a final book into her bag. But because of her discern for her own surroundings, the blonde had failed miserably to notice that both Brooks and Tate were standing directly in front of her. Her body collides with that of Brooks, a grunt falling from his lips as he moves quickly to steady her before she crumbles. Chloe, with no time to possibly process her own actions, attempts to grasp her book before it falls to the floor, to no prevail. With an agitated groan, she closes her eyes before facing the taller boy, "I'm sorry, that was my fault. I wasn't paying attention."

Brooks retrieves her book from the linoleum floor, holding it out to her with the same impassive expression he always displayed. His eyes here vacant, void of any emotion; Chloe expected nothing more from the nearly lifeless boy. "Watch out next time," his threatening voice is rough, and his teeth mindlessly bite down on the end of a cigarette that he places between his lips. His brushes back the disheveled hair that falls into his eyes, before narrowing them. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a class to get to."

Chloe accepts the hardback with worn pages, watching with skepticism as he recovers a dull blue lighter from the pocket of his ripped jeans. He ignites the cigarette, inhaling for a short moment before blowing a wavering puff of smoke in her direction. The girl follows her impulses, pulling it from his mouth and stepping on the tobacco with her vintage wedges. "I can't believe you have the indecency to smoke in here," her glare is harsh when she looks back to him, composing herself as she takes the lighter from his palm. "You aren't getting this back. Secondhand smoke is dangerous — if you don't care about your own health, at least be courteous to those around you."

She doesn't disguise the distaste in her voice before she turns her back to his confound features, tossing the lighter into the trash bin. Maxen doesn't hesitate to follow behind her, surprised by her outburst. "What was that?"

"That was years of suppressed disconcertment finally making an appearance," she rolls her eyes at Brooks' previous stringent tone. "I can't believe he did that in front of me."

The boy shows the same countenance on his features, nodding at her words, "I thought you said he lacked communication skills."

"He does," she closes her eyes for a moment, before tugging the sleeve of his hoodie into her current classroom. "Look, for your own benefit, I would advise ignoring him at all costs. Complete the partner assignments on your own, avoid eye contact — he has the ability to ruin your life, or at least the remainder of high school, if he sees fit."

Despite the fact that she and Max has been companions for merely an hour, she felt as though it was her responsibility to offer advice. He had yet to understand the ways of those in Bridgewood, and perhaps he never would. His outsider stereotype would possibly never fail when roaming the halls, but she hoped, for his sake, that her peers would soon accept his presence. Then again, Chloe had fallen victim to the incessant dictation of the social hierarchy; and due to that alone, her lips remained as dormant as the once effervescent, crimson buds that blossomed near her favorite river. Her preferences lied within tranquility, and unlike everyone else she had met, the slowly aging teenager decided her ability to flourish would prosper without relaying her every secret to those that asked. Maxen would be intelligent to take her words into consideration, and even more so to execute them.

"I appreciate your worry for me," he places a hand on her shoulder, as if he was offering guidance, "but I'm a a big boy, Chloe. Brooks isn't as mischievous as you described before, and I'm sure you'd be pleasantly surprised to find that he's quite the opposite." At her narrowed eyes, he removes his palm with an apologetic smile. "Okay, he's a little on the trouble-making side, but there isn't an individual in this building that doesn't have an adventurous gene in their body."

"Being a juvenile delinquent isn't hereditary, Max," the blonde nearly rolls her eyes at his ignorance. "And your persistence on his innocence proves to me that you're already falling into a grave that he dug for you. Being a lawbreaker and miscreant isn't the solution to any problem, and that's a promise."

Max nearly grins at his neighbor, accepting her perturbation for him as a basis for their friendship. "The fact that you're concerned for me is absolutely adorable," he comments, a dimple imprinting his cheek. "I can't believe that I was sure of my incapability to acquire new friends, when clearly I only need you. And Brooks."

Chloe's cheeks tinge with a light shade of pink, but she glares at the taller boy. His charm proved to be an obstacle, and was one that she would irrevocably fumble over with each attempt of overcoming it. But if Maxen felt that he had no other option but to befriend the very person she warned him of, she would allow his privacy; only then would he understand that her apprehension was sustained with corroboration and previous experiences. She chooses to argue with him no longer, sinking into her assigned seat and waving him away as she chews on her bottom lip, "Just leave, I'm tired of all the grumbling."

But he shows no indication of mobility as he joins her at the cedar-crafted table, carelessly dropping his backpack onto the waxed linoleum. "I'm sorry, Chloe," his lips form a frown, and he nudges her shoulder. "Let me make it up to you."

Her eyes find his, and she raises an eyebrow, "There's nothing to apologize for. But I'm curious as to what you're implying."

"My schedule consists of unpacking," he explains as the doorway crowds with their entering classmates. "And, as much as I'm interested in spending the rest of my life lonely, I'd prefer to find a hobby — or at least find a source of entertainment other than throwing rocks at your window."

Chloe giggles at his antics, earning a proud expression from the boy. "There are a few places I'd suggest, including the bakery in town. Festivals and the pumpkin patch are always popular, and the carnival is next week."

She had favored autumn above all others since childhood — dressing up in a costume was a luxury she would never again have, but trips to the pumpkin festival and seasonal treats from the bakery took its place. Preparation for homecoming began, and long nights of football  games commenced. Finals were not yet a problem, and nor were the pressures to purchase gifts for loved ones, or arrangements for the upcoming new year. Instead, the students at Baxter High were free to relax in their flannels and sip hot chocolate until the final touchdown signaled the end of an alleviating period of education and escapades they would remember for a lifetime.

"How about a café?" Maxen questions, drumming his fingers on the polished surface as he ponders her suggestions. "We could grab something to eat after school tomorrow, and watch the football game — I'll be paying, of course."

"Are you interested in football?"

"Of course I am," he replies, scoffing at her wonder. "I was the quarterback when I attended Brookside, we never lost a game."

"Then why don't you try out for the team?" She proposes, disregarding the bell that initiates the beginning of class. "Maya's dad is the coach, he wouldn't have a problem with you being a little late to conditioning."

Maxen considers his probability of gaining a position on the team, and the opportunities he would receive. Brooks was on the team, as well as his close friend, Tate. He held plenty of potential, and with his orientation, he was almost guaranteed new acquaintances and the pastime he was longing for. "You have a fair point, and I'll consider it. If you wear my jersey to the games," he winks, flashing his pearly teeth to fluster her.

"You're assuming that you'll get the position," she rolls her eyes. "But fine. If you actually get a spot on the team, I'll wear your jersey and motivate you from the sidelines like the cheerleader I was born to be."

His jaw drops in surprise, "You're a cheerleader?"

"Of course not, that was sarcasm. Why are you still here, anyway?" Chloe shoves his arm, pretending that his earlier wink hadn't served the purpose he was aiming for. "Class is starting, and you obviously don't have English right now."

The boy digs through his backpack, fumbling for a pencil as Chloe runs her fingers through her wavy locks. "I thought we already established this, Chloe. I'd follow you anywhere, and for the moment, I'd rather lie to the English teacher than face the one who will undoubtedly torture me with trigonometry."

She chuckles at his words, unknowing of the meaning behind them. And as she glances away from him to retrieve her notebook, Maxen can't help but gaze at her profile with burning interest. Never before had he experienced such a pull towards another individual, and he found himself doubting that he would ever again find the same connection.

Perhaps the boy had found a new friend after all — one that made him feel more normal than anyone else ever could.

_______

❝ so, um, brooks is a jerk???
but a cute jerk, so it kinda balances
out. anywho, i hate this chapter lol ❞