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[lillslillslilly]

CHAPTER SIX

Chapter Six

Her key rattled in the lock as she pressed on the handle of the door, failing at the first try. Her mind was preoccupied; every single axon in her brain dedicating itself to only filter thoughts involving Maxine, the napkin with her phone number, Maxine, the book, Maxine, the strange situation earlier at the coffee house, Maxine, which book to lend her, and Maxine some more. Captivated – she was her own prisoner, and her mind was the jail cell. It controlled her. Her mentality was completely engulfed by the thought of Maxine, and nothing could interfere with that. Though, she didn’t want anything to interfere, anyway. The thought of her name warmed her cosily like a campfire; the idea of her curls softening under her touch meditated her; the sound of her voice floated her into the clouds.

Pure muscle memory: she continued to rattle the lock until finally, a click unlocked access to her apartment, the herbal fragrance of incense biting straight at her nose as she swung the door open.

“Hey, how was work?” Nikola greeted Victoria from the squash-orange sofa as she placed her coat on the table by the front door. Their apartment opened straight into the living room, which was rather hippie – scattered oranges and whites and greens; strange collages and artwork on the walls; large-leaved green plants in pots. Though the room seemed to identify as ‘scattered’, everything had its place, and it was actually thought out well to compliment the theme (the only theme the three of them could decide on, which they defined as ‘cosy’). 

“Hmmm, not too bad. How was your day?” Vic replied, stumbling towards a long white cabinet housing a record player and a whole shelf of vinyls – her sacred collection. She crouched to search for the ‘C’ section of her shelf, located ‘The Ride’ - an album by Catfish and The Bottlemen - and slipped it out, setting it on the player above.

“Yeah, not too bad. El helped me with a shoot so I could update my portfolio,” Nik spoke as she rummaged through a handful of print outs. “Ooh, turn it up. This is a great song,” she added, nodding her head up and down to the beat of ‘7’ playing from the record player sat a few feet from her.

Vic hovered over the player, increasing the volume slowly. Most of the music in their apartment was her influence, the majority of the records and instruments lying around the flat being hers, though the three of them all devoured the albums equally.

She collapsed onto the sofa next to Nik and started to look through the array of photographs that had been placed upon the sofa cushions and the glass coffee table in front of them both. Yellow sunset lighting engulfed Elliott. His shadowy curls were pinned with a yellow hairclip on the left about an inch and a half above his ear, which a black, heart-shaped earring dangled from. His jawline was perfectly sharp, and his skin was glowing clear, the golden highlighter upon his bones shimmering in certain photographs. The same highlighter sparkled in the inner corners of his eyes, saluting the black liner upon his waterline. His torso was covered by a black tank vest top, outlining his figure. His trousers were flared at the leg like the sleeves on a bell-top, making him look much taller than he truly was.

“These are so cool, Nik. You are so talented. God he’s pretty,” Vik praised as she analysed each of them, before stopping and lifting a specific one in the air. “This one is my favourite, wow.” This time, he was consumed by the same lighting, though his configuration was slightly blurred by it. In his hand lie the etch of a cigarette penetrating smoke, which was captured perfectly as it defused into a typhoon.

“If he doesn’t use this as an album cover one day, I will be disowning you all.”

“I’ll bare that in mind,” Nikola laughed, collecting each photograph into a neat pile, eventually slipping them into a folder.

She hesitated before speaking again, deciding whether to say what she had planned to.

“He called me on his way to work, by the way. He said we were invited to dinner?”

Vic’s hands grew clammy and her body fidgety.

“Yeah. I’m not quite sure what happened. Somehow, he and Max’s roommate know each other, and she invited us all to theirs Sunday.”

“Yeah, he explained a bit…” Nikola began, hesitant once again.

“Nik, you can tell me. Please tell me.”

She upturned her bottom lip, cranking a considerate smile as she gestured Vic to sit closer. She wrapped her arm around Vic’s, comforting her.

“You should speak to him about it. Trust me.”

Vic released a sigh of disapproval before agreeing with Nikola. She knew that if Elliott was up to something, it would be best to hear it from him.

“How are you feeling about the dinner though?”

Vic’s expression was un-readable now. Her mind was loud with all of the worry and stress but also joy and curiosity regarding their upcoming dinner party, that not even her face could decide on an expression to signify how she felt.

“I’m not sure. Kind of excited, but also absolutely horrified. And nervous. Mostly nervous.”

“Okay, you finish work at one tomorrow, right? I’ll meet you when you finish, we can go and pick up some bits to take Sunday, choose you an outfit and then everything will be prepared – nothing to worry about. And if you get overwhelmed at any point whilst we are there, just let me know, okay? It’s okay to be nervous.”

There was something about the way that Nikola always knew what to say or do in every situation and her immense control of emotions that instantly comforted Victoria and allowed her worries to subside a little. Victoria lent into Nikola’s hug a little tighter – a voiceless agreement.

“I like her.”

Nikola’s smile grew, still soft, but now also pleased.

“I know.”

_____

Max was curled up onto the sofa, lavender candles alight on the table in front of her, fairly-lights glowing around her, and a movie flickering on the screen before her. She hadn’t been home long, only giving her enough time to change into her pyjamas and set up the room. She’d settled on watching Beauty and The Beast (the Emma Watson version, obviously).

She was engrossed in the film until the light of her phone screen flickered in her peripheral view, which then gained her full attention. She had been waiting for this, wondering if the notification would ever arrive – it had. Her eyes pounced to the text on the screen.

Hello, love.

She pulled herself up into her seat, the adrenaline in her body speeding up her reaction. Typing quickly, she sent the message, which encouraged another notification.

Hiiii

Pink pen? I never would have taken you for a pink pen kind of girl.

Ahaha, it’s Wrenn’s. I don’t know how it ended up in my bag, though…

How are you?

Sleepy. Not all of us have a gallon of caffeine in our system right now. And how are you?

Hahaha. Yeah, I’m okay. You should rest! x

Rest? Nah, I’ve got Pride and Prejudice to read. Have you heard of it? ;) x

Nope, never. You should tell me all about it when you’ve read it! :) x

Sure thing :)

So, do you read anything other than romance?

Sometimes… it depends on my mood…

I’ll take that as a no ;) x

Okay, fine. Maybe not BUT I’m open to suggestions!

What do you have in mind?

I guess you will find out in the morning…

Good night, Maxine 💗

Good night, Victoria 💗

______

Like clockwork, at exactly nine a.m. Maxine strolled through the door of the coffee house, as she did most mornings, flashing a poisonous set of peals from her lips completely cultivating Victoria.

“Good morning,” she yawned through her smile.

“Hello, love. And how are we this morning?”

“Well, it’s nine in the morning on a Saturday, I’ve not got a drop of caffeine in my system and I’m about to spend the next 9 hours conversing with people.”

“Hunky-dory then?” Vic teased, causing Maxine to exhale a chuckle. Vic’s ears hugged the sound – its calling was like a flower’s to a bee.

“You could say that. How are you?”

“I’m all good. Oh, I have something for you,” she reached into her bag, which sat underneath the checkout, and pulled out a dark coloured book.

“It’s no romance, sorry, but it’s really good. Maybe it’ll expand your taste a little.”

“Expand my taste?” Maxine echoed, voice full of tease, like a parrot. “Are you saying my taste is bland?” she continued, articulating the last word with mockery and emphasis, which made Vic fluster.

“Hmm, maybe a bit.”

She loosened her grip on the book as she held it out for Max, though she held on enough to avoid it from dropping. The other girl reacted to this by also lifting her hand to receive it, unintentionally connecting their skin, freezing everything around them. A swarm of electricity dove onto Vic, where their hands met. A pulse of tingles, like pins were pressed against her, tickling their way down her hand, up her arm, and throughout her entire body slowly, reaching each pore of her skin one by one. Once it made its first round, it circulated again, channelling tingles of nerves and desperation and infatuation around every inch of her. It lasted for so long that Vic completely lost the ability to control her body, making her a statue, completely mesmerised by the view in front of where she stood. Her heart accelerated – each pulse of electricity igniting it.

But was it keeping her alive or was she only now just discovering what it was like to be living?

“Carrie,” whispered from the other girl’s lips, in nothing more than half a shaky exhale. Did she feel it too?

It took a moment for Vic’s ears to sync back up to her brain, and another for her brain to sync but up to her mouth, where she remained unresponsive.

“Stephen King,” she finally mumbled, slowly withdrawing her hand, disconnecting the invisible live wires between their skin. This awoke her, bringing her back down from the high she’d just been exposed to, now able to finally re-sync her senses, though her mind was still slightly misty similar to that of the autumn morning.

“Oh, it’s not too scary, I promise. Eerie, if anything.”

“Thank you,” the earthy-eyed girl spoke.

In the process of concocting Max’s morning caffeine, Vic found the nerve to strike up another conversation, in desperation to marinade herself in Maxine’s presence.

“Did you want me to bring anything to dinner tomorrow?”

“You don’t have to, but you can if you’d like. I’m going to whip up a few things, you know, buffet style.”

“Perfect.”

_____

The afternoon had announced itself rather quickly for Vic, brewing caffeine for countless people, not really giving her much time to rest before Nikola had arrived declaring the end of her shift. Her current state: propped on the bathroom floor, Elliott to her right, painting streaks of bleach into Vic’s hair. He mocked her, calling this a ‘breakdown resulting in a makeover’. After stocking up on crisps, fruit and ingredients for Elliott to make his signature brew to accompany the three of them to dinner tomorrow, Vic had found herself lurking in front of the hair dye. She’d impulsively decided that she’d spend her afternoon incorporating purple streaks into her hair, though Elliott seemed to be doing most of the work.

“Ellio, can I ask you something?” Vic asked, legs crossed like a kid while Elliott worked away – painting an image of a mother doing her child’s hair.

“Of course, mi corazón.”

“Can you explain yesterday now?”

[lillslillslilly]

CHAPTER FIVE

Chapter Five

It was half-past-eleven and Wrenn was spending her night pouring cocktails that weren’t even for her. She gazed over at the liveliness of the bar wishing she was dancing and flirting with strangers rather than serving them.

“Wipe that grumpy look off of your face, Wrenn,” a dauntless voice demanded from next to her. “Is it really that bad working with me? I’m hurt. It’s like a sword to the heart.” He curled his hand into a fist and pounded it once against the left side off his chest simultaneously to closing his eyes and sticking his tongue out of the right of his mouth, playing dead.

“Shut it, Elliott. Like you even have a heart, anyway,” she teased, lightly punching the top of his arm with a grin on her face. “Wipe that smug look off of your face and then we can call it even.”

They were both unimpressed at the idea of spending their night serving all of these people instead of being one of them, however it was less melancholy knowing that were suffering together. It hadn’t been long since Wrenn started her job here, and Elliott was the first one to welcome her, therefore they had composed a friendship pretty quickly.

“Do you think we will get sacked if we…” Wrenn began, picking a shot glass up and twirling it in her left hand. She looked at Elliott and chuckled, watching his face change to a mischievous state of curiosity.

“Nah, we’re too pretty,” he announced, gathering a bottle of pink alcohol. Wrenn transferred the shot glass from her palm to his, eyeing up the liquid filling it as Elliott poured.

“You first,” she nodded at him with a smirk. He grinned and lifted the glass without hesitation.

“To the two hottest people in the room,” he proposed before downing the shot and screwing up his face in response. “Hmm, refreshing. Your turn.”

Wrenn took her turn, also toasting the two of them before taking her shot and screwing her face up an equal amount to that of the curly haired specimen before her. “How do we serve this shit to people?” she disgraced jumping for a glass of water.

“They’re probably to drunk to notice,” he assumed in response to Wrenn’s question, which encouraged another snort from her making her almost choke on the water she had just swallowed. Strobe lights – flashes of reds, greens, blues, pinks, oranges, purples, yellows – illuminated the laughter that both were captured by.

The bar had gotten quite quiet in the past half an hour; the odd few customers that did come up to the bar to get drinks were left to be dealt with by the other bartender on shift while Elliott and Wrenn tried to keep themselves amused. Garage music was blasting all around them, making Wrenn want to rip her ears off. She called upon Elliott, starting another conversation to salvage her ears from the travesty of the noise blurting from the speakers intertwined with the room.

“So, the latest gossip: my roommate has a fat crush on this girl, so she keeps going to her work every morning just to see her. I keep saying to her, just ask her out; you clearly want to, so just do it. Like seriously, she’s visited her every day for the past two weeks. It’s becoming like Edward Cullen levels of pining,” Wrenn rambled to her colleague. “They already hung out once ages ago, so I don’t know what’s stopping them doing it again. Like, just fuck already.”

Elliott let out a mix of a gasp and a laugh. “My roommate is in the exact same situation with someone too. It’s all she talks about.” He began to mimic his friend: “Guess who I saw today! She looked so good. I wish she liked girls. Blah, blah, blah.” The two laughed, before Elliott added a, “it’s insufferable.”

Wrenn’s expression softened a little, sincerity and sympathy appearing in her eyes.

“I thought that too at first, but I’ve never seen my roommate like this about anyone before – well, anyone who wasn’t Ellie Roswell anyway. She gets all nervous and tiny, which isn’t too different from her normal self, considering she is the size of a pea and has the social capability of one too, but she gets extra flustered around her. It’s actually kind of sweet.” Wrenn replied.

Elliott acted out a gag, pretending to throw up. “Ew, no way is THE Wrenn Benson being all mushy right now.”

“Oh, be quiet, you wannabe Conan Gray.”

“My pleasure, budget Reneé Rapp,” he laughed, squatting onto the floor to reach one of the lower shelves and rattling something from it. “But for your information, I’m way cooler than Conan Gray.”

Wrenn raised her eyebrows at the size of Elliott’s ego and snorted.

“Wrong. Nobody is cooler than Conan Gray,” she objected, which motivated a roll in Elliott’s eyes. 

She served a customer – it was an easy vodka-coke – and then reappeared next to Elliott, who was still maintaining a ‘no work’ attitude by perching himself up on the counter tucking into a packet of salt and vinegar crisps that he had found on the shelf he was earlier crouched beside. Eyes wide, lower lip quivered and chin sticking out, she peered at him.

“What?” he chuckled, flashing his pearly teeth.

She nodded in the direction snack that lay in his grasp and mumbled in a child’s voice, “sharing is caring.” He rolled is eyes again and surprisingly they didn’t fall through the back of his head as Wrenn had imagined they would, which kind of disappointed her, as this was the millionth time he has submitted this as a response to her all night. Though he put out his hand anyway, the opening of the packet facing towards the puppy-eyed blonde.

“Am I going to have to intervene in the whole roommate situation?” she queried, munching on a crisp.

“Well, answer me this: is she going to do anything about it if you don’t? I mean, from the way you describe the sweetheart, she is helpless.”

“Hey, don’t call her that,” she exclaimed, her eyes sharpening into a glare. She reached for another crisp and her eyebrows frowned in thought. “Though you’re one hundred percent right, she is helpless bless her. I don’t know, she’s enough of a hopeless romantic that maybe she will surprise us all and make a move, but I doubt it.” A sigh exhaled from her before she vacuumed up the crisp she had been holding.

“Emphasis on the ‘hopeless’ then,” Elliott joked, flicking his chin length curls in a motion similar to a dog shaking after a bath. “I guess you have some meddling to do.”

_____

The mug that she held in her hand was empty, again. She’d been perched onto the window seat for just over an hour and she had already made her way through two americanos. Somehow, she had only just discovered that there was a window seat in this coffee house (probably due to a certain female distraction) but had decided that this would be the perfect place to read. Sure, she had the whole of her apartment with several places that she could designate for this exact purpose, but her apartment did not include a pretty barista.

Suki, one of Maxine’s new employees, was closing tonight, excusing Max from work at four. She’d popped up to her apartment to change out of her flour-covered clothes and grab her book until making her way down to the coffee house, where she had remained since. It was quite busy in there tonight, being Friday and all, but it was peaceful, private, over in Max’s corner – perfect reading conditions… and for observing too.

With caution to not rip any pages, she folded the corner of her page into a triangle in order to save her place. Max didn’t really use bookmarks, not for any specific reason, other than that she didn’t own any and didn’t necessarily need to if the pages could be their own placeholder with a simple fold.

“Number three? Surely this much caffeine in such a short amount of time will make you combust,” Victoria teased once Maxine had arrived at the counter, cup in hand and a guilty look on her face. “The same again?”

“Actually, a latte this time, please. Time to change things up a little,” she requested, gazing dreamily into Vic’s face. She’d risen beyond the awkward one-worded sentences now (a great achievement in her eyes) and was starting to feel less ‘I’m going to die of embarrassment’ when she was around her. It was becoming a routine now: mostly before work, Max would come and get her coffee and small talk with the girl she adored, fulfilling her crave to connect with her. Sometimes she’d visit twice a day, though that ran the risk of Vic not even being on shift when she did.

“Okay, but anymore and I’m switching you to decaf,” the feathery voice announced with a mixed tone of ridicule and concern.

“Brutal,” Maxine mouthed, encouraging a chuckle from her counterpart. She enjoyed this – it felt easy. Why was this so easy? She wasn’t complaining though.

“What are you reading? I’ve been meaning to ask you, but your face has been glued inside of that book and I was worried you’d bite if I disturbed you.”

“Pride and prejudice, for the seventh time, I think.”

“I take it’s good then, if you’re on read number seven.”

“Have you never read it?” Maxine interrogated with increased volume levels.

Victoria shook her head benignantly whilst she pressed the machine into releasing a shot of espresso.

“It’s so beautiful. I’m on my last two chapters so I can leave it with you if you’d like to read it. Only if you want, of course.”

“Yeah okay, but then I get to bring you one in exchange in the morning.” In the morning. Waves of tingles rushed over Max like a current, bringing an uncontrollable grin to her face. Her heart was starting to race again, stomping through her chest at each beat. Victoria expected to see her, now familiar with the routine as well and this made Maxine completely overjoyed. A hum of agreement was all her body could assemble, due to being preoccupied with trying to avoid her skin enhancing itself in a pink hue. This was assisted by a cold draft crawling all over her as the door behind her opened, maintaining her temperature and colouring, thank God.

Her mind wasn’t given a single second to process the figure next to her before she was embraced in a warm hug, lifting her and twirling her in the air. His tropical perfume was the first thing her senses had been able to translate, so after a second, she identified him.

“Why hello princesa, how have you been?” the familiar voice spoke.

“Hey Ellio! I’m okay, how are you?” she answered, wriggling tighter into his embrace. One thing she was sure about: she loved Elliott’s presence because he always immediately made her feel safe.

“I’m all good, hermosa.”

They were pulled away from the hug now, though he maintained one arm wrapped around her shoulder as he turned to Victoria, who looked confused.

“What on Earth are you doing here? Haven’t you got work in…” she started, pulling out her phone from her apron to check the time, “twenty-five minutes?”

“Oh relax, Morticia Addams,” he mocked. “I’m walking to work with one of the girls and she said to meet her here so…” he was cut off when the door opened again.

“Speak of the devil and she shall appear,” he chuckled with a sassy tone.

Max was completely and totally bamboozled at the sight of her blue-eyed-blonde roommate, who was flicking Elliott in the head after approaching them.

“The devil? Check a mirror babe,” Wrenn sighed, before following Elliott’s arm with her eyes, which was still wrapped around her roommate. Her eyes widened in shock.

“Maxie? You’re here and…” she looked Elliott up and down once and then brought her sight back to Max, “… and you know each other?”

A combination of puzzled and fascinated looks were exchanged between the group before an animalistic volume of laughter rose between Elliott and Wrenn. Victoria and Max connected eyes, silently asking each other if the other had any idea what was so funny through their expression.

“This…” Elliott wheezed, unable to pull a sentence to his tongue. “She…” wheeze. “Max is…” wheeze.

Wrenn was flapping her arms in the air now, occasionally bringing them down to whack his arm, completely consumed in laughter.

“Maxine is your roommate?” Elliott eventually was able to string to his lips, then continuing to squawk like a seagull.

“Coffee girl is yours?”

Elliott started to fan his face, exhaling heavily.

After an uncomfortable minute, Maxine observed her roommate, who’s face grew an expression she knew. It was the same expression she had had the other week when they had run out of coffee. The same delinquent smirk but subtle eyes, and as she realigned her view, she saw that Ellio’s expression was exactly the same.

What the-

Wrenn exclaimed abruptly, making Maxine jump. “Oh, I know!” She turned to Elliott, who winked at her – clearly, they silently understood one another in the same way Max and Vic had when their eyes had conversed: ‘Do you know why they’re laughing? Nope. Do you? Nope.”

“We all know each other, strangely enough, so why don’t you come to dinner Sunday? We’re not working, the bakery isn’t open on Sundays,” she directed her attention onto Vic now, “you’re not working, are you?”

Victoria was stunned; Max could tell. Not a single syllable left her mouth as it moved.

“She’ll be there,” Elliott butted in, speaking for her.

“Great! Oh, and bring your other friend, I like her,” Wrenn requested imperatively, referring to Nikola, who she had met a few times when she had come to walk Elliott home from work.

“Oh shit, we best get going. See you later,” the blonde announced, pulling Ellio by the bicep towards the door, and then they were both gone.

Max and Vic remained in a black-and-white, silent movie state of shock for what felt like a millennium, until the milk Victoria had heated for the latte was now frothing like the white outline of bubbles on a wave. Victoria decided to break the awkwardness first, trying to get the both of them back into a state of normality, or as close as she could get after that display, anyway.

“Well, that was… odd?” she mumbled, a pause in between the last two syllables signifying her choosing of the correct final word for her sentence.

“Yeah,” Max agreed, unable to produce anything else. Her and Vic exchanged looks of frowning eyebrows and downturned lips before Vic handed her a latte with a heart drawn into the foam of the drink. She pouted, trying to hold back a smile, which made Victoria giggle lightly.

_____

Victoria fiddled with the pages of the book Maxine had left for her, slowly outlining each one with her index finger. It belonged to Max, and she was holding it, embracing it. Her stomach fluttered at the thought of this as she brushed along the name indented into the inside cover – Maxine Holloway.

Halfway through her analysis of the object lying in her palms, a napkin fell from the centre, landing at her feet. After placing the book on the counter, she reached for the napkin, turning it over to reveal some pink writing containing a phone number and a short message: Sorry, only had a pink pen on me. Thought you might need this for Sunday – it was signed off with a heart, also drawn in this pink pen, and an ‘M’.

[lillslillslilly]

CHAPTER FOUR

Chapter Four

“You’re nervous, aren’t you?” Nikola’s caramelised voice sang as she watched Vic melting into the stool she was propped on. “She’s just a girl; you’ll be fine.”

“It doesn’t feel like that,” mumbled Vic under the tobacco lingering in breath. She shifted in her seat avoiding the eyes of her friend. Nikola was right though; she was sitting bricks over this. Why did she even invite her tonight? They don’t even know each other – three minor interactions do not count. She had acted on impulse earlier when she invited her, but why? Irritated by the anxious feeling pressing against her chest, she sighed trying to relieve it. Nikola had identified a tension in Vic the second she had come face to face with Maxine at the bakery a few hours earlier, which had still not un-tensed. Luckily for Vic, Nikola was the kind of friend that could read the room, and therefore hadn’t pried much on the topic. She didn’t want to have that conversation with Nik now, or later, or with anybody else at any point for that matter. Fortunately, she wouldn’t have to because as an act of sincerity from the universe, Maxine had just strolled through the door collecting every strand of attention Vic could extend. She hadn’t yet clocked onto Vic, whose eyes were locked onto her, completely infatuated. Vic had been restlessly observing the door of the coffee house since she arrived, awaiting Maxine’s presence that she so desperately and nervously required.

Her brunette curls, that Vic urgently wanted to run her hands through, intertwining her fingers in the cushioning softness, relaxed freely around her neck, face and ears, which a pair of pearl earrings existed upon. A smoky black lined her mesmerising emerald eyes into a delicate cat-eye shape and her lengthy lashes were curled and coated in a thin layer of mascara, filling them more. Her cheeks were caressed in a bubble-gum pink natural blush as though little drops of dye were saturating them from behind her skin; the colour in them hugged the singular beauty mark resting upon the left one, extracting it from its solidarity on her light-olive skin. Painted a bold red, her lips positioned themselves in a pout as she bit the bottoms of her gums – presumably out of discomfort or nerves. Vic’s focus resumed after redirecting to the girl’s significantly thought-out outfit – each item complimented her petite appearance faultlessly: she wore a wine-red vest-like top which grazed the rim of a charcoal, leather, pleated skirt that eased onto her thighs and tugged her waist exquisitely. Her feet carried the same Penny platformed heels that they had the previous night, though her short, slender legs were consumed in a sheer pair of tights now. A leather shirt-styled jacket in the same shade of red as her top engulfed her shoulders, shielding them from Vic’s perception, and a compact bag also of this same shade, was planted in her right hand. This hand hosted natural French tips, a minimalistic silver-band ring which wrapped around her pinkie finger, and a hollow heart-chained ring encircling her index finger. Vic’s eyes floated to her other hand, though it housed no jewellery unlike it’s opposing one.

She was a whole city glowing in the moonlight and Victoria was completely and totally dazed by her; she wanted to observe the view forever, uninterrupted. She watched intensely. A hair on top of a head; a goldfish in an ocean full of sea creatures; a petal on a daisy – Maxine stood small, displaced, in the crowd of entities, her eyes searching for the familiar face she was eagerly craving to see. Ear to ear, Vic felt a toothed grin fill out across her jaw as Maxine’s eyes connected to hers. Safe; secure.

Before her neurons detected any movement around her, Vic found Maxine stood a face away from where she was parked in her seat making their eyes connect at the same height for once. Her entire body filled with tingles; they lingered so close to one another, both captivated in each other’s irises extorting them to be completely unattached to their surroundings. Their senses become numb to everything around them – everything except one another, as if all the capability and power their five senses contained was sucked from the room and depleted onto one another. They were the only two people that mattered, or so it felt.

“You came,” Vic was able to exhume from her vocabulary, eventually anyway.

“Mhm,” Maxine hummed, “I said I would.” Her voice made the butterflies in Vic’s stomach awaken, fluttering in circles, composing nauseous goosebumps around her body. Her voice was warm like spices: cinnamon, ginger, vanilla. It was like the autumn: pumpkins, burnt orange and mustard leaves, campfires. It was cosy; it was gentle.

“Hi, I’m Nikola. We sort of unofficially met earlier at the bakery,” Nikki disclosed, gifting a friendly wave to Maxine, who reciprocated.

“I’m Maxine,” she said. There was something about the way that she articulated her own name that made Vic’s skin tickle and her heart accelerate in her chest. God, Maxine is such a beautiful name but the way she says it makes it extraordinary flawless.

“Would you like a coffee? I’m buying,” Nikola questioned, picking up her purse and her empty mug.

“Sure, thank you. Black coffee please.” Maxine replied.

Nikola called on Vic as well, however she shook her head as she held up a half full flat white.

“Okay, you two mingle and I’ll be right back.”

This is what Vic had been waiting on for hours: the two of them, eye to eye, undisturbed. She realised that Maxine was still standing in the same spot, her left foot crossed over her right and her hands anxiously fiddling with the handle of her bag.

“Oh, why don’t you…” she started, followed by her extracting the stool seated next to her from under the table. “Why don’t you sit?” Her hands quivered as she pulled them from the stool back up to her drink, reluctantly taking a sip. Maxine responded with a nod, before releasing the jacket from her torso and lying it onto the seat, unveiling a pearl necklace matching her earrings and italic scripture inked onto her collarbone. Vic’s eyes focused onto the tattoo, meanwhile the curly haired girl planted herself at the table.

She read the tattoo aloud, content cuddling her tone. “Choose kind. That’s pretty.” Max gazed at the girl next to her, following her eyes to her own collarbone, until she flicked them back into contact with the other girl’s as she gently swiped her finger along the words.

“Oh, this? Thanks. I forget it’s there sometimes.”

Victoria envied those fingertips; she so desperately desired to caress Max’s collarbone as they had. She fought to unfix her eyes from their lock onto that tattoo and wrestled to detach her mind from the thought. 

“I love your stars,” the autumn voice mellifluously whispered, making a flow of blood tint Vic’s cheeks.

“Thanks,” she giggled bashfully. Usually, Victoria had a sustainable level of confidence when conversing with another, however every single speck of it was spooked at the sight of Max. Max made her nervous – something nobody ever could do to Vic.

The two had entered a comfortable state of conversation (a foundation if you will) covering Max’s move to the city, Vic’s time working at the coffee house and Max’s bakery. It took a second for them to get started due to their nerves, however once they got going, they could not get enough of what each other had to bring to the discussion.

“We saw that there was a new bakery being renovated and we agreed that we had to investigate,” Vic stated, though she was cut off by Nikola rejoining the table, holding a coffee and a hot chocolate.

“And thank God we did as well. That pie was out of this world,” she sang the word gorgeous, holding the last syllable for a second. This made Max chuckle.

“Who’s gorgeous? Me? Yes, that would be correct,” a bold voice completely saturated in sass called from beside them. He bounced behind Nikola, locking his hands at her chest and leaning his head on hers. He suddenly became aware of the fourth presence at in the group, eyeing Max up and down.

“And who is this preciosa little one?” he asked, directing his question at Victoria with a grin. “Is this the cute little baker I’ve been made aware of? Oh, I love her already!” He was now leaping towards Max, wrapping his bony arms around her. “I’m Elliott, but you can call me Ellio.” His necklaces clicked together like keys as he lent back up to hover around the group. He patted down his top half which was dressed in a sparkly mesh material which faded his sepia skin underneath.

“Hi. I’m Maxine, Max – whatever works.” She already felt an unplanned comfort around him – he was charming and outgoing (definitely an extrovert considering he did just embrace her into a bear hug) which reduced some of the nausea she had been resisting. “Cute name,” he said before noticing somebody gesturing him to the back of the coffee house. “Shit, that’s my cue. Adiós, chicas.”

“It’s time!” Nikola exclaimed as she waved Elliott away.

He was performing an acoustic set, mixing between playing the guitar and the piano that were set up around him, with some of the songs Maxine recognised – one of them being a Rihanna song that made her reminisce on her teenage years. His voice was incredible – his vocal range wide, his tone full of sass and his breath control unmatched. He was really good at this. Victoria and Nikola would cheer and applaud louder than the whole of the crowd combined at the start and end of each song – they praised his talent like he was a celebrity, though he might as well have been with a voice like that, Max thought.

“This next song is a song that was introduced to me by one of my best friends,” Elliott announced to the crowd that filled the entirety of the coffee house. “It has stuck with me for a long time and so I’d love to share that with you all. I will need her help though.” He was grinning at Vic now with a devilish expression in his face. “Please welcome Victoria!”

Her face was fifteen shades of purple and disapproval was written in her squinting eyes. She wasn’t aware that he was going to do this, though she was not surprised either.

“I’m so going to smother him in his sleep later,” she grimaced as she raised from her seat, lifted her eyebrows and exhaled a sigh. The coffee house was infused with applause as Vic made her way to the piano next to Elliott. She glared at him as he let out a winning laugh and winked at her. Her friends were transparent to her, so she knew exactly what song he was referring to and therefore began to play after receiving a nod of approval from him.

“Songbird,” Maxine identified the introduction almost immediately as Vic began to play. “I love this song,” she said before turning silent in awe. Nikola peered at Max’s infatuated expression and lifted the corners of her mouth before realigning her focus onto her two friends at the head of the room.

Maxine had spent the last three and a half minutes absolutely consumed by Victoria; her eyes completely glued to her throughout the entire song. She hadn’t even acknowledged Elliott’s presence, though he was the one singing, because she was completely and totally engrossed in the angel at the piano.

______

It was around two in the morning when Wrenn arrived home from work to find her roommate asleep on the sofa in the living room. She placed her keys down and headed towards her sleeping friend, tucking her under the knitted blanket that had been folded on the sofa next to her.

She whipped her sunny locks as she turned to exit towards her bedroom when a hand contacted her arm.

“Sorry Maxie, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, it’s okay,” she sleepily mumbled, stirring.

“How did tonight go?” the blonde girl asked her roommate in a whisper.

“Mm, she’s perfect,” the roommate responded, slowing fading back out of consciousness. Wrenn blew out the lavender candle lit on the coffee table inches away from where Maxine had just re-dozed off, and spoke an affectionate “goodnight,” as she closed her bedroom door.

[lillslillslilly]

CHAPTER THREE

Chapter Three

 “Please tell me that I am being completely stupid and that we haven’t run out of coffee,” Maxine exclaimed as she dived onto her best friend’s bed, suffocating her. With a guilt-filled face, Wrenn replied, “Oh shit, I was supposed to pick some up yesterday before meeting you. My bad, sorry.”

Maxine rolled onto her back, pulling her hands up to her eyes. “You’re telling me that I must get ready, go to work and socialise on the opening day of the bakery, may I add, without a dash of caffeine in my system? Wow, you must really hate me,” she whined.

“Please, you are so dramatic. It won’t kill you.”

“Yes, yes it might. I’m going to die. This is going to kill me, and it is all your fault.”

Wrenn shot a look at Max – a look with layers: reassuring eyes, her familiar stare, but a classy smirk risen on her lips.

“Well, if it’s so bad, there’s a coffee house right outside.” The smirk remained on her lips even when pulling them into a pout, chewing on inside of her cheeks. She knew exactly what she was doing, and so did Max.

Maxine bounced off the bed, shooting one more glance at her friend before escaping to her room to get ready for the day. She was out of sight now, so Wrenn stood, pulling a three-quarter full jar of instant coffee out of her bed side draw and directing her path to the kitchen to replace it back into the cupboard.

Deep breaths. She might not even be there? What are the chances that she’d be there both times out of the two that I step foot into this room? She definitely won’t even be there. She might be there, though. She won’t. Thoughts wrestled throughout Maxine’s mind – Déjà vu.  

Okay, now, on the count of three. Her breath shivered.

One.

…

Two.

…

She placed her ghostly hand onto the door and pushed. It took more strength than she thought, so she raised her other hand to assist, pressing her upper-body strength into her palms. Steadily, the door opened.

Immediately, her eyes met with a sense of familiarity.

Oh shit.

She swallowed, cleared her throat, patted her coat down and stepped forward, her shoes clicking against the wooden beams of the floor.

“Hi,” a whisper, closer to an exhale, broke out from Max’s jaw.

“Hi, good morning,” gentle and sweet.

Max swept her eyes upwards, following the direction of the feathery voice to the lips they protruded from, letting them hang there for a second before leading them up once more to the familiar boba-like eyes resting above.

She smiled, exhaling once more, “good morning.”

Steady.

She received a smile back - she could see it in the eyes which she had still not broken contact with. Time felt slow but this time she didn’t mind; she was intrigued. It had kept her up all night, tossing and turning, her mind looping in intrigue, wanting, needing to reconnect with this stranger.

“What can I get you, lovely?” feathers, angels, softness.

“Can I have a latte, please?”

“Any sugar?”

Please, no.

“Hmm… one please,” she disclosed. Oh sick, well done. Nice to know you still have the inability to simply order coffee correctly.

It had been a stable start to the day at the bakery; not as quiet as Maxine had thought, but also not too busy. Golden, flaky and soft, her croissant stock had been demanded almost entirely to her surprise. Yes, she admitted her baking and cooking was an art that everyone had to experience, she knew that, however her croissants were not what she expected to have been so demanded. She concocted all sorts of flavoured goods, which sat around her from her place behind the counter, but her croissants, really? It was a mystery, but she wasn’t complaining – croissants were good too. Her stock had almost halved within the first few hours of the morning, but the rush of foodies died down by noon (roughly), meaning she had some time to revisit the kitchen at the back of the bakery and start to restock during intervals of quiet periods. She had been keeping herself busy, especially when the bakery was in solitude as it had been every half an hour or so, to try and pull her mind from the stranger’s entity that consumed her mind since the night before, though it failed to succeed for almost every second. Their departure from one another this morning had been an ache for Max and though they hadn’t said much to one another, Max enjoyed the presence of this stranger unknowing as to why. Her brainpower incoherently performed the tender wave that accompanied her exit from the coffee house on a repetitive orbit, analysing and noting different pieces of the memory each time. It was a childlike wave, their fingers simultaneously flapping up and down like wings in Maxine’s direction, but it felt informal, friendly. She focused on the light reflecting against the amethyst nail polish at the tips of each of her fingers being sent in multiple directions as their hand adjusted to the wave. She focused on the mix of rings and the subtle clanging they produced as they clicked together; ultra-fine waves of vibration channelled from the sound. She focused on the paleness of their skin and the way it pulled around the bones in their hand, tailored perfectly. She focused on every detail, her brain not resting.

A toasty scent lingered around the bakery as Maxine piled the now freshly baked croissants into the casing upon the once emptied dish. She was down to the last one, slowly releasing it onto the pile before closing the casing. Eventually she led herself towards the kitchen with the cleared tray, humming hazily along to the tune of ‘Don’t delete the kisses’ by Wolf Alice, which was playing from the speaker by checkout. The sun gently kissed the window as sky remained light but it was around three o’clock now so that would start to change soon.

“Hello,” a voice reached to Maxine’s ears, who was now washing up.

“Hi, just a second,” she exclaimed, drying her hands. She had stopped humming now, aware of the presence of another person in proximity to her. Entering the room, she located two silhouettes lurking, viewing the different baked goods that lie in front of them. Max saw the girl on the left first – a beautiful girl with dark skin and long braids that faded to a caramel colour at the ends, tied into a ponytail on top of her head. Her skin was crystal and smooth; her face engulfed in a golden highlight shimmering in the sun that breathed through the open entrance of the room. She wore a black and white tartan, straight skirt, a floaty black shirt and a pastel, lemon yellow cardigan. Accenting the yellow in her outfit, her converse matched the shade of her cardigan which was cropped just above her hips.

Her eyes moved to the second girl, making her tense out of recognition of their face. Before she could even process who was stood before her, a familiar feathery voice spoke, “It’s you again! Hello.”

It’s you again.

It’s. You. Again.

Those words made her brave, confident.

“Twice in one day? To what do I owe the pleasure?” she chuckled. Betrayingly, her chest started to tense, and her breath shivered. Don’t fuck this now, she thought to herself, holding onto the last seams of confidence pondering in her gut. Chill.

Those rosy lips grew a mellow grin, reaching and rewarding her chestnut eyes with a twinkle in response to Maxine. The stranger was different now than to this morning: now she had allowed her inky coloured hair to flow freely down the back of her torso exposing its un-disturbed length; she wore the same Doc Martens, though they were hidden by the cuffs of a low-waisted khaki pair of cargos, which housed fashionable pockets down the sides of both legs; the top of her torso was shaped into a black halter styled tank top displaying two pairs of star-outline tattoos on her front, in between her stomach and her hips: one on top of the other in a diagonal direction, mirrored on the other side. This was driving Maxine up the wall. Why was this so attractive? Settled along her collarbone lay some smaller stars in different formations, which equally gained Maxines attention. Was her skin heating up into a shade of crimson again?

Etched onto her leather jacket were several artist names and logos, some of which she recognised: Queen, Blondie, Bowie and Fleetwood Mac were the four she knew the most, though the jacket was saturated in plenty more. A silver chain relaxed onto her chest on top of the same necklace that Maxine had observed just a day before, with the ‘V’ charm on it.

The two’s eyes had sustained contact until the connection was broken by the honey-glossed voice that had spoken first, “Two times in one day?” she repeated, “Have I missed something?”

“Coffee,” was the only word Maxine was able to reach in her vocabulary now as her whole body was electrocuted with nerves; the last drop of confidence had now exited her body through a heavy exhale. Her mind was clouded now, completely swarmed in apprehension.

“I served her this morning at work… and last night too, I believe?” Max’s newly favourited sound released from the girl’s lips. “So that’s three times in twenty-four hours, actually.” Somersaults: her chest was a whole acrobatics team flipping and turning as the light voice reached her ears; and goosebumps were now raising along the skin of her neck. It was like the cotton in the girl’s voice was tracing the skin around her ears, making her tense in pleasure at each syllable.

“Maxine’s Place,” the alluring stranger recalled, pulling the name of the bakery that she had read from the front of her mind, bringing to the tip of her tongue. “So does that make you Maxine?”

Max hummed in reply, still attempting to collect herself.

“Beautiful.”

Too late.

The stranger’s friend was now completely detached from the conversation, eyeing the pies in the casing behind her. Max hadn’t even seen her move over to that side of the room.

“I’m Victoria.”

Victoria.

“Fuck, wait, no. Nobody calls me that. Vic, Vikki,” she continued, fiddling with the rings on her right hand. So, she wasnervous too. Max’s mind eased a smidge and her shoulders loosened at the thought of this.

“Beautiful,” she recited, offering a smile from her cherry lipstick, which was returned almost immediately from the angel ahead of her. “What can I get you, Vic?”

Vic’s friend, who Maxine understood was named Nikola from overhearing their conversation, had quickly decided on a slice of peach pie, which she had been drooling over whilst Vic and Maxine had been acquainting. Vic on the other hand had decided on a slice of coffee and walnut cake, which was brushed with the silver edible shimmer - perhaps she had been team silver after all. The two had decided to eat in and were now sat at one of the rounded tables with their food and a glass of water each, which Maxine had graciously enhanced with lemon slices.

“Fairy lights? Snug,” Vikki enounced pointing at the weaved legs of the tables and chairs, encouraging a giggle from Maxine, who had now turned away to hide the glee on her face, pretending to fiddle with something behind the counter.

oh my god oh my god oh my god…

Maxine’s customers were conversing something inaudible to her due to her thoughts tangling over top of her senses; she was already analysing their interaction, which hadn’t even ended yet, almost making her unaware of another person walking up to the counter.

“Hi,” the shy voice of a copper haired teenager, likely between the ages of seventeen and nineteen, whispered.

“Good afternoon,” Max mirrored in the same tone being mindful of the shyness of the girl in front of her. A brief second passed before the girl spoke – she must have been trying to choose her wording.

“Erm, I saw your recruitment sign on your window,” she began anxiously. “I’ve brought my CV. My schedule is quite flexible, if that is of any help.”

Max was overjoyed. She loved her little bakery, but she knew she couldn’t juggle it all by herself (something that took her way too long to admit) so she was looking for a helper or two. The teen handed her CV to Max and exhaled, a small lift of the corner of her mouth following.

“Thank you!” Max exclaimed. “Would you like to come back tomorrow for a trial?”

The crooked smile stitched across the girl’s face ripped right open now becoming a full beam.

“Yes, please! Oh, thank you so much,” she articulated. They decided on noon. The copper haired girl thanked Max again before skipping out of the bakery.

Instantly, her attention turned back onto her two customers sat at the table, who were still deep in conversation.

Nibbling on a cinnamon bun, Max leant against the wall behind her as Vic and Nikola rose from the table, piling their plates and cups neatly and tucking their chairs under.

“That pie was gorgeous, merci,” Nikola expressed at Maxine, who was now placing her food onto a napkin upon the counter. She giggled, licking the glaze from her fingers as she hopped out from behind the counter, heading in the direction of the table to collect the plates.

“Yeah, the cake was incredible too. I fear I might end up craving it all week.” Vic added, a river of blood flowing into her cheeks, blushing them a matching rose pink to the colour of her lips. “Thanks, Maxine.”

“You ready?” Nikola asked her friend, who buzzed in confirmation.

“See you later, love,”

Lovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelove…

“Hope to see you around,” the feathery voice continued, interrupting Maxine’s fluster and adding to it all at once.

Nikola offered a gentle wave to Max as she exited, which she reciprocated, and Vic followed behind. However, she stopped in the entrance, holding her hand against the door, exposing a shine of purple polish and rings.

“Hey, Maxine. You should stop by the coffee house later, if you’re free of course. Our friend is performing tonight.”

Ohmygod.

Max’s eyes lit up, bright enough to make the room glow without needing the lights on. She didn’t even have to think about it.

“Sure, what time?”

“See you at 7.”

“Mhm.”

The no-longer-a-stranger embraced one last toothless grin before turning and following Nikola out to the street. Immediately, Max pulled out her phone from her pocket and pressed it against the curls framing her ear, desperate for an answer, which came after two rings.

“Hey.” “WRENN!!!!!!!!”

[lillslillslilly]

CHAPTER TWO

Chapter two

She had spent the last fourteen hours kneading dough and mixing batter and rolling out mix until her hands locked, her head was light from dehydration and her stomach was practically screaming for something consumable. Though every millimetre of her five-foot-three self was monopolised in a dull ache from the uninterrupted production of baked goods, Maxine was glowing with relief, disbelief and reward at the milestone she had just accomplished.  She was not phased by the agonising hunger and thirst that her body desperately called out for; instead, it brought a subtle sense of peace, of solidarity to her mind, in tandem to the playlist of soft songs levitating from the speaker in the corner of the bakery, like an energy or an aura.

Positioned above the checkout area, the glass display case exposed a heavenly stash of perfectly browned croissants, glazed cinnamon rolls, an array of stacked cookies and chocolate-chunked brownies, buns and a clique of other devastatingly beautiful pastries and doughs. Shelves encompassing the store accommodated sourdoughs, whole wheats, ciabattas, baguettes, paninis, ryes… individually wrapped in some sort of cellophane material, accompanied by a little red ribbon holding it in place. A freshly polished glass casing lined the centre of the back cherry-red wall, occupied by several fresh pies – cherry, blackberry, peach, pumpkin, apple – each one satisfyingly golden and crisp. Pies were always Maxine’s favourites to make; she enjoyed watching them bake, fruit bubbling, seeping through the flawlessly measured lattice on top, eventually settling, leaving a dye of colour around the pastry. Below the array of pie, still filling the casing, lay angelic looking, soft to the touch, heavenly tasting cakes (two teared with a generous layer of butter icing between tears and coating the top of the exterior): Victoria sponge, triple chocolate, red velvet (the greatest creation in the whole world in the eyes of Max) and coffee and walnut. Depending on which she believed would suit best to each specific cake, Max had dusted them with either silver or gold edible glitter – very lightly as if it was from a fairy. The interior of the bakery also looked as though Maxine had waved a magic wand over it: everything was pristine, perfect. The magnolia walls hung paintings of all sorts of baked goods – paintings her best friend had created for her throughout their friendship ready to store in the bakery she always dreamed of, and so she had kept every single one from over the years for this exact purpose. Crimson, cursive LED lights hung above the checkout counter read ‘welcome’ to match the single red wall hosting the pies and cakes. Earlier in the week, Maxine had purchased two small, rounded, metal tables with shiny, metal, basket-like chairs for customers to eat-in. A few cans of red spray paint and an afternoon of DIY later, she had a small seating area to compliment the red theme that she had been going for. And of course, weaved around the legs of the tables and chairs, and among the sides of the checkout counter were fairy lights.

She was finishing writing products and prices on the colossal chalk board that had earlier been fused to the wall, when a faint but familiar knock presented itself at the door. Behind it: her best friend with a face full of excitement. This was the first time that she had let Wrenn see the bakery; the finished result. She wanted it to be perfect before she let anybody else see, not even her best friend, and now it was.

“Holy shit,” Wrenn gasped as she bounced inside of the store, encouraging her roommate to move to the side. “You did it, like actually. God, it’s just how you described it when we were younger.”

She’s looking around now, spinning in circles, her eyes fixing onto all the different views of the room, occasionally humming with agreement. She giggled at the sight of the fairy-lights knowing that Maxine could not and would not resist incorporating them into the design somehow. Amused, she paced around, letting her eyes bring in all of it.

Then she paused, frozen, glaring up at the paintings on the magnolia walls. She was silent for a moment (which was an unheard-of event for ‘Miss talks-a lot’), as she processed the familiar artwork that lay before her eyes. Wrenn herself broke the silence after gathering her thoughts with a near whisper, “You kept them? ALL of them?”

“Of course I did.” Maxine chuckled in reply, gently caressing the signature, Wrenn’s signature, at the edge of one of the canvases with a chocolate cupcake painted onto it.

“I said I would put them in my bakery, so I have. Besides, I think they bring the whole look together, you know?”

After few soft smiles were exchanged between the pair, Maxine found herself being tackled into a bear-hug, both girls still giggling like teenagers at a sleepover.

“I am really, really, really proud of you Maxie.”

“You are?”

“I am.”

It was starting to get darker earlier, October in the UK and all, and colder too. The bitter air bit at the girls sharp forcing Max to wrap her wine-red scarf around her, covering her nose and mouth. She was aware that it would be a late finish and a cold evening, so she had worn her black trench coat too. Maxine had never really minded the cold weather because she argued that one could always layer up to stay warm or drink a hot drink or tuck yourself in bed, and instead hated the summer. Wrenn always gave the opposing argument that summer in the UK was pathetic: it was barely hot, rained a lot and only lasted a few weeks.

“You’ll love summer abroad. We could go to Spain! Or Los Angeles! Or Portugal!” She’d say.

“We could lay in the sun and get tans and drink martinis.” She’d say.

“We can cool off in the pool and wear our bikinis all of the time.” She’d say.

But Max did not want to go to Spain or Los Angeles or Portugal. She did not want to lay in the sun. She did not want to drink martinis. She did not want to cool off in the pool. She did not want to wear her bikini all the time. And she certainly did not want the summer, though she agreed with her because that’s what friends do. However, she’d rather be curled up by a fireplace with a blanket and a book, some fairy-lights and candles glowing, a coffee, and rain splatting the window: undisturbed. That was what she wanted.

They had been strolling back in the direction their apartment for a while discussing their plans for the rest of the evening. Eventually, the two decided that they’ll stop at the coffee house that resides just beside their apartment block and then they’ll order a pizza and watch a movie to end their day. ‘10 Things I Hate About You’ was their final decision for the movie after a pointless debate on what to watch – this settled right in the middle of their choices: romance and comedy. Perfect – it was also one of Maxine’s favourites, so she felt as though she had still won regarding deciding the film.

‘LIVE LOUNGE COFFEE’ was quite vintage, classical from the outside. The exterior was a deep brown with vines growing along the wood like veins. It seemed quite tiny, secluded and still from the outside. It seemed untouched. Why had it taken them both so long to investigate this coffee house? Maxine especially had become dependent on caffeine, so why has she not visited the coffee house that is quite literally attached to her apartment? In a way, it never really crossed her mind; she hadn’t even fathomed that there was a coffee house attached to her apartment until Wrenn’s mentioning of it on their walk home. Better late then never though, she thought.

Wrenn pushed the door open into the shop, which was rather heavy so this must have been an old shop as they figured, and stepped in, Maxine close behind. She was taken by surprise – this is not what she had thought the interior would look like: it was so… modern; unique? Sofas of mix and matched colours and sizes and an additional similar array of armchairs consumed a lot of the interior. Bar stools and taller tables were dotted around two large speakers which outlined a stage-like area towards the back right hand side of the room. Nothing matched except the walls which were all white, however they were plastered in a series of different quotes and posters. Max was a perfectionist: everything she ever worked on was thought about so particularly for it to be perfect. She needed that control. This was nothing like that. This was unorganised and randomised… so why did she like it?

“Hmm, comfy,” she whispered under her breath as she untangled herself from her scarf, to which her friend turned to her with a facial expression of a mix of surprise and satisfaction.

“Coffee, a beverage that smells like fresh ground heaven,” Maxine read from one of the quotes on the wall to her left. “Amen to that.” Her eyes took one last stroll around the interior of the coffee house until they locked with an unfamiliar pair across the counter. She’d been so caught up with the interior that she hadn’t realised how empty it was, except this pair of forest-brown eyes connected to hers.

“Good evening. How are you?” spoke a soft voice – a soft voice that she did not recognise as her own, nor her best friend’s. A beautiful voice. An angelic voice. A calm voice. It was like music to her ears: blissful and sweet, but soft like feathers.

She realised she was still maintaining eye contact with this person’s exquisite set of russet eyes, and she felt herself burning up, turning red. She swallowed and quickly looked down at her feet. ‘What the fuck is happening?’ she thought to herself. Taking a slow and quiet deep breath Max repositioned her eyes once more, desperate to see the owner of the eyes she had connected with. Her muscles tensed and her breathing fastened. Her once blistery cold skin was now forming beads of sweat as she warmed up against her coat.

She started at the bottom so she could avoid the trance those eyes put her in. They wore a clearly loved pair of Doc Marten boots (she could tell from the frays and the scratches that consumed them), shiny and laced all the way to the top of the ankle. They connected to a pair of black jeans pulled over a long pair of legs. Her eyes glided up to their hips, flawlessly curved, falling into a petite waist shaped by a small apron pulled around it and tied with a bow. Her breathing heavied again, falling irregular now. After a moment of trying to collect herself, she continued her eyes on their journey up, analysing this stranger. One of their hands sat dominantly on their waist while the other was twirling the end of one of two long, midnight black braids, which reached just above it. There was a smooth, shiny coat of amethyst purple painted across their nails without a single chip and each of their fingers had a ring, some even having multiple, except for their thumbs and their wedding finger which remained empty. Each ring was a different colour, shape, style to the last – they were mix-matched like the furniture; Maxine shocking liked it, like the furniture. Her eyes were fixed for a second, until eventually continuing their investigation to their arms and shoulder, which were covered by the cotton sleaves of their black long-sleeved t-shirt. Around their neck dangled one singular silver necklace connected to a small charm of the initial ‘V’, which hung in the centre of their chest. Her eyes continued searching, flowing up their goosebump-covered neck. Was she cold? Was she nervous? Max was nervous. Three silver hooped earrings were situated in each lobe and an industrial bar, also silver, positioned itself diagonally at the top of their left ear. Wrenn and Max always debated silver or gold jewellery and she was always team silver; she assumed they were too. Her eyes proceeded to progress down their jawline, to their lips, which were coated in a thin layer of clear lip-gloss, smiling a toothless smile in her direction. Their lips were so full, especially the bottom one – perfectly plump and a rich rose shade. Their lips were flawless, so her eyes fixed onto them longer. Her hands stated to grow sweaty now, and she could feel her skin turning a raspberry shade of red again. Slowly, she inhaled another silent breath hoping to slow her racing heart or at least somewhat cool her down as she started at their lips. Eventually, she pulled her eyes up once again, resuming their travel to a nose ring – also a silver hoop (assuming to match with the lobe hoops) though it is thinner and smaller. Circling around the eyes she once connected with to avoid it happening again, they analysed the arch in their eyebrows, the perfect shape and the bar of jewellery that ran through the one on the right-hand side. Eyebrow piercing? Hot. Those luscious set of brown eyes caught her attention once more and again she was completely monopolised by them. Her breathing was out of control this time and her heart almost jumped out of her chest. Why does this keep happening? She began to get flustered. Her coat was becoming a real issue – it was too hot in here. It was almost like she was out of her own body, like she had no control. She was captivated by those eyes. She inhaled one more time and led her eyes down the long wing of eyeliner running down their face and finally closed her eyes.

“Fine, thanks. How are you?” a voice answered. It wasn’t her voice. It continued, “Wait, are you guys open?” Once she finally had her breath back, Max opened her eyes to look at her friend, who was smiling softly at the stranger behind the counter with the capturing eyes.

“Yeah of course. What can I get you?” the stranger’s soft, feathery voice spoke again.

“A green tea, please and…” she turned to look at Maxine, who had not digested any of the words that had been spoken since they entered the coffee house. She flinched, snapping out of her thoughts.

“Hmm?” she mumbled to Wrenn.

“What do you want to order?” she questioned, nodding her head towards the stranger behind the counter.

“Oh, erm. A coffee, black,” she spoke under her breath, almost a whisper. Wrenn was looking at her again now but with an expression that she wasn’t familiar with. She broke eye contact and returned her eyes to her feet. She felt fidgety, pressing on the skin around her fingernails behind her back.

“Do you want some sugar with that, darling?” the feathery, angel voice sung out once more. Max froze, her eyes still fixed onto her Mary Jane black heels. Shit, do I want sugar? No.

“Erm, yes please.” She answered.

Shit.

“How many?”

None.

“Just one please.”

What the fuck.

The only sound in the room now was the stranger making the girls’ drinks, Maxine’s heavy breaths and pounding heart, although she hoped she was the only one that could hear those last two things.

After a couple of silent minutes, the stranger comes over with the drinks and hands them to the girls, reinforcing the uncomfortable eye contact that Maxine so desperately avoided, yet so desperately craved.

“Here you are,” she smiled as she handed Wrenn her tea, followed by, “there you go, sweetie.”

What the fuck.

Maxine nodded, still maintaining eye contact, however her breathing was becoming more regular now. She still felt like melting on the spot, but she was calmer and so now she just admired the face that she had analysed a few short minutes ago.

“Pretty quiet night for you I’m guessing,” Wrenn voiced.

The stranger hummed in agreement, and Max wasn’t the one to break the fixed eyes this time. The stranger let out a gentle chuckle. “Yeah, I suppose we don’t get many caffeine hungry people this time of night. They won’t sleep.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

Back at their apartment, Maxine released a slice of pepperoni pizza from her grip, flopping it back into the greasy inside of the box she had previously taken it out of. She thought that after having all but a croissant today would mean that she would have devoured more than two slices, however her mind was running and therefore her appetite was pretty low. Usually, she would be irritatingly reciting the script of the movie playing in front of her, however today it was merely background noise to her seamless thoughts. In a loop, her mind projected images of those piercing eyes from the coffee house, then to those lips; to the hands and then the waist; to each of the piercings; circulating back to those poisoning eyes – a never ending cycle. But why, why was this happening? Did she really care that much? Did she even care at all? Why would she care? She doesn’t care. Why is she so fixed to this?

An elbow interacted with her hip, sharp but not painful.

“Right, what’s wrong?” Wrenn said looking to her. “You’ve been radio silent since we got in.” It’s true, she had been, though she hadn’t realised; her mind had been on the loudest volume distracting her from noticing.

“Nothing,” she began, “Well, I don’t know. Maybe I’m just tired.”

“Right okay…” her friend spoke, holding onto the tune of the last word, followed by a short hum of thought. “So, I take it that this has something to do with what happened downstairs?” And she could read her like a book, apparently. Maxine didn’t even bother to deny her behaviour – her friend saw right through her, and she knew that from the second she asked what was wrong.

“How bad was it? God, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“I mean, you were bright red, fidgety and protruding Darth Vader breaths when she called you ‘darling’ so…” Wrenn went quiet, trying to decide carefully her next words to not stress Maxine out any further. She did eventually chime back up, “I don’t think she noticed though, maybe I just did because I know you so well. It wasn’t so bad. Actually, I think it’s rather sweet.”

That did not offer Max any clarity whatsoever. She swallowed down the last of her coffee and nodded in agreement, though Wrenn knew she wasn’t convinced.

[lillslillslilly]

CHAPTER ONE

Chapter one

One and a half months of this and finally, she dragged the last box labelled ‘Maxine’s books #8’ towards the three-shelved bookshelf in front of her bed, which faced her door. Alphabetical order by author name or title? Author name, definitely. She scraped a pair of scissors across the tape along the seal of the box and proceeded to pull each book out one by one, appreciating each and every one as she did so. She’d repeated this cycle with all seven other boxes, storing each of her prized possessions onto the shelves in her room and in the living room, caressing each one’s cover as she did, though she was running out of space and therefore would have to start storing her at-home-library in other places around the apartment soon if she planned to buy anymore, which of course she did.

“Jesus, Max, got enough fairy lights? It looks like Blackpool bloody Illuminations in here,” she heard a voice giggle from her doorway. “At least now I won’t get lost on my way back from the bar.” Wrenn, Max’s best (and only) friend and roommate - the ‘IT girl’ or ‘Miss Perfect’ - chuckled as she sat down on the end of her friend’s bed, tugging at the knitted grey and white blanket. She proceeded to wrap it around herself as Max looked up at her from the ball she sat in on the floor between the shelf and her bed.

“That reminds me, I have some more somewhere,” she mumbled as she stood and walked over to her closet and started to rummage through the storage at the bottom. “Ah, here, for the balcony.” She tossed the bundle of lights at Wrenn and smiled a warm smile.

“Is this necessary? I mean, you’ve put lights up in every corner of this apartment already. The second we got the keys you were pulling them out left, right and centre.”

“Yes, it is necessary. I need to be able to see what I’m reading if I’m sat on the balcony. Besides, fairy lights make everything cosy.” Max replied as she repositioned herself back onto the floor, her legs tucked underneath her, stashing each book in its designated spot on the shelves above.

Everything was new for the girls now: a new apartment, a new city, a new life. For Maxine, this meant a fresh start; independence; a life of her own, finally. ‘New’ meant the chance to finally chase her dreams and open her own bakery in a big city. It meant having her own apartment with her best friend that they could decorate and admire as theirs. ‘New’ meant that all their hard work had paid off and they finally had the lives they’d hoped for since they were seven and sat on Max’s parent’s porch swing talking about having their own house with their own rules and how they would marry princes. They had done it, well, except the prince part anyway.

As for Wren, ‘new’ meant finally a place to sleep that wasn’t the couch at Max’s parent’s house, a job at the bar down the street, a new city to paint and a new circle of hook ups waiting to happen. ‘A girl has needs’ she’d say to Max, but really, she was just anxious about committing to one person and consequently losing the freedom being single gave her. She’d quote the same monologue whenever her best friend questioned it: ‘When you date someone, your life stops being about you and instead becomes all about them. Your top priority should always be you, not some loser randomly walked into your life one day. Imagine watering down the things you love and enjoy for someone else’s satisfaction. That’s so boring. Why would anyone want that?’ so she didn’t often bring the topic up, but she knew her friend well enough to fathom that there was more to it than that.

On the contrary, Maxine romanticised the idea of putting everything she had to offer into one person, probably due to the insane number of romance media she consumed. Her thoughts would circle around, craving how it felt to experience the perfect combination of loving another and being loved by another as she consumed each word on each page of each of her books and in some ways, she envied that. She envied Wrenn most of all however, for being careless; for not being tangled up like one of her protagonists on the idea of completing themselves by connecting with another person – a soulmate. 

Wrenn’s eyes fluttered across Maxine’s room approving of the result of the décor. They stopped just above the grey headboard of the bed, where they focused on a painting of some white lilies – a painting in which she had done for Max a couple of years prior. She had always painted, though had a lack of inspiration for the last year or so. However, Max was sure that the new city would motivate her to start again (and Max was never wrong) and so she was enthusiastic that it would.

Her eyes were fixed for a moment and then she released them, continuing to scan the room. Her eyes locked again, this time onto a collage of photos of her and her best friend posted the wall by the entrance of the room. She must have missed that when she first walked in. She smiled a toothy, gentle grin.

“I love what you’ve done with your room, Maxie, honestly. It’s very you,” she giggled.

Wrenn was the kind of girl that even Aphrodite would have envied.  Her long, wavy locks – a sort of sun-kissed-gold colour – flowed down to her waist and bounced as she moved. A silver, glittery eyeshadow sat upon her eyelids accenting her Californian-ocean blue eyes. Rosy undertones blushed through her clear yet glowing skin as she smiled – a natural blush. She was the human embodiment of the sun, or an angel (something sparkly and bright), Maxine would say.

Max thanked her as she admired the last book she had extracted from the box. A small smirk painted itself across her lips as she analysed the title of her favourite book.

“To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before… Jenny Han. H, H…” she mumbled as she located the last slot for it, slipped it onto the shelf in front of the rest of the set, and eventually dived onto the bed next to her best friend laying her head gently on her lap. She looked up to the ceiling as Wrenn locked her arms around her, inviting her into the blanket she had earlier wrapped around her.

“What time does your shift start tonight?” Maxine asked.

“Seven. I finish at one.”

Max paused for a moment and Wrenn could see the cogs turning in her head. After a few seconds, she repositioned her eyes from the ceiling to her friend’s face. “Well, it’s only three-thirty now so I can make some soup so you can eat before you leave if you want,” she proposed. Wren’s face lit up and her eyes shimmered with glee. Maxine knew this meant a definite yes, so without hesitation she hopped up from the bed and headed towards the door. Maxine didn’t paint like Wrenn, no. Food was her art: baking, cooking, stir frying, boiling – and her art was to die for.

Just as Max reached for the door handle, she was stopped by the soft, feathery sound of her roommate’s voice. She questioned if they had any of Max’s handmade dumplings left over from the last time that she had made soup as she was so fond of them.  

“I think there is a portion left in the freezer actually,” she replied, waiting and watching Wrenn slowly stand, re-folding the blanket she held, slowly placing it back into position on the end of the bed where it had previously laid. She clasped onto the fairy-lights Maxine had earlier tossed at her and held them to her chest. The two traded a final warm smile and exited towards the kitchen.

Maxine curled up into the corner of the balcony. The fairy-lights she had successfully convinced Wrenn needed to be wrapped around the sofa-like bench were twinkling above and beside her head, which added to the moonlight and the fluttering of the lavender candle on the small wooden table just a few inches to her right, lit up the book she held between her hands and rested against her knees, which were raised to her torso. Although she would normally be completely engulfed in the literature sat before her, she couldn’t help but to just observe the view of the city. Her mind was completely clear – peaceful even – for the first time in a long time. After a month and a half of organising her new home, renovating her very own bakery and memorising the streets of this new city, everything was quiet; finished; accomplished. Everything in her life was finally falling into place and it felt unreal. Tomorrow, she would be covered in cinnamon and flour and sugar, baking breads and buns and cakes and biscuits and brownies and sandwiches and muffins and…

But for right now, she was here: in her home with her curly, shoulder-length, chestnut hair cushioning her head against the wall of the balcony, watching the city lights glimmer in unison to that of the stars.

She couldn’t help but murmur to herself, “What a beautiful life.”