And yet, they still stood

[gabrielle]

A one on one roleplay between Krisi and Gabrielle;

​

“They are right to fear you, to quiver at the knees. The love pulsing through your body with every beat of your open heart could rock the stars from the dark of the sky.


How do you hold it all inside of you? Every bit of feeling running wild under the tender of your skin?


The world was never ready for a love like yours,for the cascade of I can give it all to you, baby. Every last bit of me is going to love you something fierce. I promise, I promise.


Look at you, Look at the big of your heart. Even the trees shake for you.”


↳ Emily Palermo, To the girls with the earthquake hearts.

Even the trees know you can't hold onto something forever. And yet, they still stood.


Can you fix the broken?




"It is written between the sea and the sky, within the horizon rest, that word. The word that neither science nor religion can make sense of. The word to end or start all wars, the word we use to express something greater than ourselves. The word we die for, we life for and ironically look for when it cannot be seen. It is written on pillows so we dream of it and written over the stars so we can wish for it. So when we look closer, just a little bit closer, we discover it has always been within us. Buried deep inside our biology, our existence, just look a little closer - for all that we are and all that we will ever be is love." ↳ Robert M. Drake, Between the sea and the sky









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Welcome to the lovely village of Monticello, New York.
​

Residing in southern upstate New York, Monticello is a tiny village of 4 square miles and a population of around 6,700 people. Despite being one of the largest settlements in the Sullivan County, it's small and quiet. The streets are empty on most days, and the buildings seem to have never changed since the mid 60s. Tall trees stand in abundance, turning brilliant shades throughout the year. Nearly all of the land in Monticello is covered by forests. There are no dry seasons, and thunderstorms are incredibly common. The summers are warm and humid with averages in the seventies; the winters are frigid with averages in the thirties accompanied by frequent snow.


Although the people here are quite what you'd expect them to be in such a small place--traditional, the type to know everyone and their secrets--the underground scene is quite the contrast to your average Joes and Carolines. The youth of Monticello has culture. With the abundance of poverty and run down buildings found outside of the town's center, it's not uncommon for those living there to get into certain scenes.


Outside of the beauty and quaintness found naturally in Monticello, you find the rock scenes, drugs, dance clubs. This list could go on. It's everything and anything found in New York City downgraded with the poverty and small population of Monticello. It's the scene for every messed up kid in town, and with the outdated traditions that don't go so well with the new of today's culture, those types aren't at all in scarcity.

Krisi's

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Trina Lyn Clark. 19 years. 5'3"








Trina was abandoned by her father at the age of 6 years old. Her mother Chloe had not worked a day in her life before that and never knew why her husband had just up and left one night. Trina would not speak any more than needed after that day. Her replies would be as small as she could make them and still answer whatever question she was asked. Chloe did the best she could as a single mother with no job experience and ended up working as a waitress to pay the bills.


About a year after Trina’s father had left Chloe would meet a man names Brent and she would fall in love once more. Brent helped out with groceries and helped the family stay caught up on bills and even brought young Trina presents.


After a few months of dating Chloe allowed Brent to move in with the family. Trina was excited in the beginning but with the new found help Chloe began taking on night-shifts at the restaurant where she worked, leaving Trina home alone with Brent. The first night Brent changed from the man he had been all the months before. It started out as little things like Brent knocking over Trina’s toys or bumping her into a wall as he walked by. Trina began to fear the man and would attempt to tell her mother several times.


However Brent would always say that he apologized and there were never any marks left on her, then he’d bring her home a new doll or something to make it look like he was indeed sorry. As Trina got older she had just gotten used to the harsh treatment and the comments he’d make to her about her appearance and how she presented herself.


As she got older and sturdier the “accidents” would worsen and Brent would make it to where Trina never trusted a male. She did her very best in school and turned to studying so that one day she would be able to leave and be on her own. Trina enjoyed reading , art, and music as they were ways to escape reality and a way that she could pretend she was in a different place and time.


Trina is now in community college and working part time at a gas station to help save up for an apartment when she graduates. She has a small group of friends from high school that she has trusted but still lives with her mother and Brent. She is still very anti-social and not self-confident.

Gabrielle's



​

Maxwell Kaiden Carrigan. 20 years. 5'11"




Max is from San Antonio, Texas, just like his mother and sister. With this fact, he has an accent which he purposefully hides, yet it does slip sometimes. His father being from Vancouver, Max was taught french at a young age as well.


For the most part Max had a great early childhood aside for the fact that his mother was absent from his life. From as far as he can remember, he began life living with his father and sister. His cousin was a frequent in his life, too. Life was perfect to him as far as he could tell. His father was as good as he could've been with Maxwell and his sister.


At the age of six, he started living with his mother. Once he was old enough to talk, he'd see her every weekend, but it was only at this age that he started living with her. At first it was with both his father and mother, but it didn't take long until the two were arguing increasingly more and more as time went on for reasons that he couldn't comprehend. Seeing how volatile his mother was gradually had created a fear of her in him.


Once he was eight years old, his family moved to Norristown, Pennsylvania. It had something to do with his father's job, but the reasoning was something that was never really explained to him. The same thing happened again whenever his family was moved to Newark, New York, whenever he was ten years old.


By this time his parents avoided each other at all costs; they fought too often and too violently. Growing up in this type of situation never does well for a child, and it's what has led to Max's anxiety and temper. Without having his father around, his mother began taking out her anger on her children. This was one thing that Max has never understood: his mother's anger. It existed, though, and that fact was absolutely undeniable with her constant yelling.


Within that same year his father was pronounced missing, and Maxwell and his sister were sent to Monticello, New York, to live with an aunt. Their cousin lived there too, and it was one good and bad thing about the situation. It turns out that over the years that they hadn't seen each other, their cousin had been found to have schizophrenia. It was something that was difficult to deal with, but it was dealt with nonetheless.


While living in Monticello, Max met his best friend. He and James are still incredibly close to each other as they share an apartment. A lot went on for Max as he grew up in this city. He continued piano, art, and singing that he'd been partaking in for his whole life, but it's where he discovered dance and acting with the help of a friend named Crystal.
​

 

[Krisi]

Monticello was a quite boring city that looked like it hadn’t aged since the 60’s. The citizens there seemed to be just as boring and set in their own ways. The streets were always quiet and not much of interest seemed to happen. That is, of course, unless you knew where to go. Trina Clark had listened to her friends go on about a place called “Rialto” for the entire spring semester and had finally agreed to go with them.


Music was blaring out of cars and the local youth had come out for a night of fun and relaxation. The last day of finals was over and spring term was gone with it. A group of four stood in line at “Rialto” that was a little diamond in the rough for the town of Monticello, New York. The sun had been down for hours and the group stood chatting with one another in excited tones about how they thought they did on their finals. There would be a tall, dark, and handsome guy wearing black pants and a pink tank top with black ballet shoes on it. He would break any girl’s heart just by speaking two words to them as he preferred to play with athletes on his own team. There would also be a girl wearing a tight black dress with blonde hair worn half up and half down and a doll-like face. She would speak enthusiastically causing her bright blue eyes to beam. There would be another guy that seemed to just be average and wearing blue jeans with a green button-up, his hair was blonde and eyes were brown, but he had a smile that was unlike any other. He’d shake his head as blonde girl and handsome male jumped up and down squealing then run his tanned fingers through his hair. The group of three was hard to miss. Or wait wasn’t it four? Oh that’s right there was another standing in close proximity but not engaging with any of the group. She had brown hair that had been straightened and feathered out to show off her layers and light eyes that were either a hazel or green. The girl was dressed in black jeans that had rhinestones down the legs in a swirly design and a red halter top with a black belt around her waistline under a black zip-up jacket. One would not even think she was in the same group as these other youth until the average blonde boy placed his arm around her shoulders and shook her playfully, causing the girl’s cheeks to instantly turn pink.


The line moved slowly for Trina, she couldn’t believe that she had let her friends talk her into coming out with them. The last thing she wanted was to be around other people and be in a place that was so loud she couldn’t think. As Ryan placed his arm around her and shook her playfully Trina would zone back in and give a small smile while casually moving out from under his arm. Kara would link her arm through Trina’s and pull her forward to the door guy “Identification everyone.” The large man would ask seriously. Trina and Kara pulled out their ID cards and handed them over, the doorman would look from Kara to Trina and nod his head letting them enter. After they got around the corner Kara squealed with happiness “I AM SO HAPPY THAT WORKED! I told you, you looked like my cousin Emily.” Trina nodded her head and tucked her brown hair behind her ears “Yea it is exciting” her voice would be low but she’d force a smile for Kara’s sake. Ryan and Zack would follow the girls in with Zack parading around like a celebrity greeting everyone as they walked through the door. Zack knew everyone here because this was his hangout, his scene and it had been his decision to bring the gang here to a bisexual bar.


The lights were flashing to the beat of the loud music as the group found a table and gathered together. Trina would pick a seat that allowed her to be near a wall and pull her kindle from her purse. Kara and Zack immediately began guy-scoping “Oh that one is hot. Look at those pants!” “Pants Sarah really? Look at his abs” “How about we just look at all of him” the two would go back and forth for a few minutes before they wound up in a giggle fit. Ryan would roll his eyes and excuse himself to get drinks for his friends. Completely unaware to anything going on Trina was entranced with /Delirium/ a novel she had just started that morning. “OH NO YOU DON’T” Zack would exclaim as Kara pulled the kindle away from her and placed it in her own bag “Ma’am we are here to p-a-r-t-y and you don’t use books for that” Kara scolded. Trina frowned and opened her mouth as if she were going to say something but was silenced when Ryan returned with a tray holding beverages. There were four glasses of something yellow and pink and then four shot glasses of clear liquid, something about the tray made Trina uneasy and nervous. “Alright ladies and gents congrats for passing spring semester!” Ryan would call out and hold his shot glass to the others so that they could clank them together. Zack and Kara screamed and held their glasses up to the sky before sucking them down like it was water. Trina pressed her glass against her lips and held her head back to help the liquid pass faster. She’d closer her eyes and force the tequila down, only opening them after she was sure she wouldn’t toss it back up.


“That a girl Trina” Ryan would smile at her and send Zack and Kara back into a fit of giggles and cheers. “Come on let’s dance” Kara would beam brightly as she pulled Trina to the middle of the dance floor; the boys would follow behind naturally. Trina raised her right eyebrow but did not refuse and allowed herself to be led to the dancing area in front of the stage. Her friends had always assumed she was a lesbian because her only male friends were Zack and Ryan. Trina couldn’t even handle partnering with a guy in her biology class last semester. “Come on Trina dance with me!” Kara would exclaim and spin herself around in circles. Hazel eyes would scan all the faces in the crowd that seemed to be watching them and Trina suddenly felt light headed. She’d pull her arms away but stay swaying to the music to appease her friends and even try to dance like Kara. Her brown hair would fall over her face and Zack would move in front of her and begin twerking against her just as Kara had moved to grind against Trina’s rear. Thank goodness for the darkness in the club because Trina’s face was so pink from the attention she couldn’t help but laugh out loud. For a few moments she allowed herself to be lost in the moment and she danced, awkwardly, with her friends. Kara and Zack looked like they belonged in the club with their sexy outfits and bright personalities. Trina still felt minimal; no one would ever be interested in her. Letting her eyes scan for Ryan she’d find him talking with two girls wearing a large smile. Girls always found him so easily approachable and Trina was jealous that she didn’t have the courage to talk to any strangers with such confidence.


The stage in front of them would light up and the crowd would cheer as several dancers took the stage. Her hazel eyes would be quickly drawn to them and she’d stop dancing to watch. “You are going to love these guys” Zack would purr in her ear “I know I do.” As the dancers stood still awaiting their cue Trina felt an excitement build up in her. Then the music started and the boys came to life and began moving their bodies in ways that defied anatomy. One stuck out to her more so than the others. He was a little over average height with blond hair and a thin build. Something about the way his eyes held such a focus just made her want to look at him. She watched him dance for maybe half a minute longer until he crawled across the floor with much more elegance than she’d ever seen anyone move and then she’d lower her gaze and walk back to the table with the group’s drinks on it.


Her thumb and pointer finger would hold onto the black straw in her girly beverage. Taking a deep breath as she stood with her other elbow on the table and her right leg bent at the knee she’d find herself looking back onto the stage. “I don’t know why they brought me here” she’d breathe to herself and find her gaze looking for the guy that was on stage, but it would seem the dance was over and another song filled the room of Rialto. Trina watched as her friends seemed to be having a great time and she couldn’t take that away from them so she’d do her best to stay happy.

 

[gabrielle]

With the sky in front of him and a warm summer breeze, it was during times like these that Maxwell found himself most comfortable.


Clouds stretched out over the sky in a blanket of cotton ball appearance, dusted with grayish shades of lavender and peach reflected upon them; the overcast still gave off the indicators of sunset. The trees were almost like shadowed cut outs of black showing branches with precision, yet they were devoid of color. The breeze was gentle, stirring the still silence that had gathered with the chiming of bells that hung over the porch that Max had situated himself. The soft, warm wind moved, leaving goosebumps on his fair and freckled skin in its wake. It pushed at his hair, moving blonde curls towards his face in an ignored gesture.


These are the moments in which you can forget who you are in the simplistic beauty of nature. It's easy to slip and drift off into a blissful appreciation. To stop worrying, stop thinking. To sit in the serene silence as you take in the unappreciated forgotten art that exists all around you.


Blooming honey suckles in the wooded surrounding gave off a sweet, comforting smell. The song of cicadas buzzed languidly in the noise of the background. This was a comfort of life for Max. He adored the outdoors. There was nothing that could replace or ruin these moments.


"Max, we're going to be fuckin' late if you wait any longer!" The voice was soft, straining to be louder but failing from inside the residence.


Point taken. James could easily ruin these moments.


Another stretch of silence sounded as Max failed to respond. Well, there had been an annoyed sigh from him, but for the most part there was no reply. The attempt to find his previously relaxed state was made, failed, and given up on as Max stood from the cheap plastic lawn chair he'd been in and walked back into the home, closing the door he'd left open up until now.


"We're not going to be late." Max huffed as he caught sight of James looking towards him expectantly, holding the keys to the only car that existed between the two.


"You tell me that every damn night, and we're always late." James replied. He had a harsh, vulgar way of speaking even if his voice didn't hold any menace. If anything, his words were nearly always rude, but they didn't hold any hate to them. This was just James, the guy Max has known for just about his whole life. The guy that he's gone through hell and back with. The guy that's the best friend he's ever had; it'd probably be more accurate to call them brothers.


"I haven't been fired yet so I think we're good." He spoke lightly with a smirk as he took the cup of tea he'd placed on the counter earlier to cool. A day was pretty much incomplete without tea in Max's opinion, and James is completely to blame for that. Being from the United Kingdom, James painfully feeds the stereotype of his nationality with pretty much his entire being. It's something Max has grown blind to, but the fact still stands.


"You push your luck too much. I think you're forgetting that I work there to, you ass." That prompted a shrug from the other as he went towards their shared bedroom. The trailer they lived in was incredibly small. It had one bedroom, a closet, a single restroom, and another separate room that served as a kitchen, dining room, and living room all in one. It wasn't very spacious at all, but it was their home. Dingy, yes, but unclean, no. They worked with what they had.


After about twenty minutes or so, the cup Max had been drinking from was in the sink, he was

dressed out of his day clothes, and the two were making their way towards Rialto.


Oh, Rialto. It was both the bane and the boon to these boy's lives.


It was the best club in town, but it was still pretty shitty in both of their opinions. Neither of the boys liked half the people there, but the place had good pay. To hell if they'd miss out on the extra and needed money, though. That and of course there's Max who loves to perform and James who at least enjoys bar tending somewhat. Yeah, they both work at Rialto. What can they say, they're pretty much inseparable.


Once he was backstage, Max departed from James to leave for his dressing room. It was a shared room, but Max seemed to be the only one who's worked there long enough to have his name written on the door aside for a few others. Okay, well, not his name. "Maxine," was spray painted in pink cursive letters with a heart to dot the "i." It had been a joke at first, but everyday Max has grown to love and hate it the more and more. First of all, red was better than pink, and second of all, it's just so... feminine.


Yes, Maxwell fully understands that he works in a queer bar and does performances directed towards all genders. That doesn't mean he wants to be a girl or anything, no. Forgive him for having masculinity issues; especially whenever he has to walk around in high heels with lipstick and painted nails nearly every night. His career was just one big contradiction, but hey, this is just how things are for him.


Anyways, as he walked into the dressing room, Max found no one to accompany his presence. This was nothing new. James spoke the truth whenever he said that they were always late, and with that standing, everyone was already dressed and warming up by the time Max got here. He rushed as he pulled off the black sweater he wore that was probably around two or three sizes too big for him and both the jeans and sweatpants he wore. Despite trying to make up for lost time, he was sure to fold his clothes and put them where they belonged before kicking his shoes under his work area. What can he say? A neat freak in denial is here, okay.


The room was pretty spacious. It was white with tile floors, a television on the wall, black chairs, some showers, sinks, and stalls. One large mirror lined a wall with light bulbs shining brightly. The light gave off a noticeable heat in the room that did not mix well with the multitudes of colognes that hung in the air. This wasn't something Max loved, but he was used to it nonetheless.


Wearing only his black socks and boxer briefs, Max sat at his area and went about putting makeup over the scars that lined him. This was probably his least favorite part out of everything, but it was something that needed to be done. There was a certain aesthetic of dancers that he needed to meet, and well, with all of his scars and freckles, he was dwindling. Perfection doesn't exist in anyone, yet it is expected.


Light makeup was put begrudgingly on his face. It consisting of powder, minimal mascara, and bright red lipstick. He may not like the makeup, but one thing he does love is the color red. Fishnet tights were pulled on before black dance shorts were added. They were skin tight and hiked up a little less than half his thighs, but were otherwise nothing special. The shirt he wore was black as well and loose fitting. He was sure to have it cover his left shoulder due to the scars present, leaving his right exposed. It was a crop top; therefore, it left a few inches of his slightly toned stomach to show.


With the last touches of makeup and fighting with his hair to get it into a bun, Max was slipping on a pair of studded high heel stilettos and running down the hall to meet up with the others he would be dancing with. A rushed greeting was exchanged and the information of what song they'd be dancing to was given, and soon enough he was on stage.


Brite Lites wasn't his absolute favorite dance to perform, but it was one he enjoyed nonetheless. It was short, lasting just under a minute. It seemed as if no time was spent at all before he was moving off of the stage, the loose curls of his hair already falling down into his face. He was barely out of breath; it really was an easy dance. Despite of this, he still had fun with it, and the slightest hint of a smile lingered on his features with the upturn of his closed lips. It was just the beginning of the night, so Max knew that more dances would ensue later on. In the meantime, he planned on spending his time having strangers buy him drinks. Of course he wouldn't drink much at all, no. Not whenever he wasn't even supposed to be drinking--Crystal only let him work here because of the fact that they're so close to each other.


Okay, who is he kidding. His age isn't the reasoning behind his reluctance. He's love to have a few drinks, believe him. The point is that buying drinks earned the club money, and therefore earned him income. The thing is that is the problem here is that dancing while drunk isn't necessarily the best for performances. Let's be real here, no matter how talented he may be, stumbling around drunk in high heels on stage just isn't cute.


Max took his time chatting with a few people here and there, acting as if he really was interested in the flirting that was directed towards him after he'd gotten a robe from the dressing room. Typically, he only talked to certain people that were by the bar. More specifically, people who looked like they'd be willing to spend money on alcohol. But again, it was early. There weren't many people, and after about three conversations Max found himself looking throughout the club for another person to approach.


A popular song was playing, and the majority of the people in the club were in the middle of the floor dancing quite badly in his opinion. Max avoided that area; there were too many people in one spot that smelled like a mixture of alcohol and sweat for his preference. And honestly, he'd rather dance on a stage rather than back to back with some stranger. With that being said, he looked towards the booths and tables of the club.


Having his sight blocked by the dancing crowd, Max moved from his position at one of the bar stools and pulled the maroon robe that covered him tighter as he walked around towards the back of the club where the tables were. He stopped and chatted with two girls, taking his leave once he realized that they were more interested in each other. Next he considered going to a group of three guys before someone else caught his attention--a girl sitting alone.


What he found to be most intriguing about her was the fact that she was alone and didn't seem to be interested in socializing. That was just his inference, at least. It wasn't uncommon for singles to come here alone, but they'd at least go and put in the effort to meet people. Okay, yeah, he typically doesn't pay much mind to the people at the tables so his thoughts on this might not be too accurate, but for the most part this was odd to him. The whole maybe if I look disinterested enough, someone will approach me tactic was something that he was convinced that people got over during high school. Take that and put it on top of the fact that he doesn't recognize her, and well, there you have it. He wanted to talk to her.


He walked easily despite the heels making him stand around six foot three instead of his real height of five foot eleven. It was kind of depressing when taking them off to say the least, but hey, he's taller than James while he has them on so that's a plus. Anyways, as he approached her, he couldn't help but notice a few things. She was pretty as far as he could tell with the bad lighting, but she seemed... off. Like she didn't belong here, but that was probably more or less because she felt uncomfortable. It was blatant to him in the way that he could notice her tense shoulders and closed off body language of an elbow on the table and crossed legs. Everything he was taking attention to gave off red flags that he knew he should listen to. It clearly said to him that she was in some type of mood. He didn't know what mood it was whether it be anger, anxiety, depression, or whatever may have you, but he knew it meant that she needed to be avoided.


It's safe to say that this had him chickening out at the last second, opting to just pass the table and act like he was originally walking that way to meet up with two coworkers that were hanging out three tables down from her's. Dissension on his part quickly followed. The short hope of oh, maybe she actually really needs someone to talk to and just looks that way naturally. Maybe there's nothing wrong with her at all. was of course followed by the negativity of no, there has to be something up to her.


It was quick for him to stress himself out with anxiety over something so trivial, and in the end he got up with thoughts of fuck it, what do I have to lose? once a coworker pointed out to him that he was beginning to get that typical look of distress he just so commonly seems to hold. His anxiety taking hold in his expressions was actually something that took place on the rules taped to the wall in the dressing room. It was a poster with a variety of handwriting and colored ink saying things like don't touch makeup isn't yours, my food is not your food, take your drugs elsewhere, clean up your own mess, and right around the middle towards the bottom reads don't ever pull a Maxie expression. Everyone just loves to make fun of him with nicknames around here if you can't tell yet.


Max was holding onto the small push of courage that he barely managed to scrape up as he finally went about walking back to the girl. Anxiety held a pressure in his chest, and he could feel his hands shaking minutely. This was nothing that was uncommon for him, the anxiety. Unlucky him, he can't afford the medication for it, so it's just something he has to deal with such as now. Alcohol helps, but he has yet to have a drink. It's simply too early for him.


"Hey," He spoke easily over the music and pulled a small crooked smile to mask the turmoil he was feeling. The smile was forced of course, but hey, at least he was trying to seem like he wasn't so nervous. It's just a simple fact, though, that the rule about not pulling a Maxie expression is just incapable of not being broken for him. Oops.


"Do you mind?" He asked without waiting for a reply as he took a seat across from her. By the time he was seated he was already fidgeting under the table, silently praising the higher power for the fact that he hasn't stuttered yet. Key word is yet. That stutter of his is an unfortunate affliction of his speech.

 

[Krisi]

Kara and Zack had gotten themselves completely lost on the dance floor. They hadn’t meant to forget about Trina, it was just something that happened. The poor girl just didn’t socialize and hated crowds. Trina would stare into her drink while stirring the straw around and around just passing the time. Glancing at the dainty watch on her arm she’d notice it was only a little past ten and groaned inside. She still had at least three more hours to endure; on the bright side she hadn’t drawn any attention to herself. She’d notice a tall figure making their way in her direction and recognize the dancer from earlier. Trina would immediately lower her gaze, as to not be obvious, but watch him through her lashes. Taking in his attire she couldn’t help but think he was good looking and somehow made it work, and he walked in heels better than she could herself. As he got closer and she could make out some of his features against his bright red lipstick Trina would take a deep breath, it almost seemed like he was heading for but why?


Making an extra effort to pull her phone out and look busy she’d scroll through some old text messages as the guy walked past her. Setting her phone face-down almost immediately after she’d run a small hand through her dark hair in a sign of relief. Trina was out of the woods; her hazel eyes would find Kara dancing with some guy rather intimately and then find Zack with two guys in a darkened corner. The girl would roll her eyes and wish she had her kindle so that she could catch up on her reading.


The bar had gotten very warm from all of the people dancing and chatting so she decided to take off her black jacket. After she slipped her tan arms out of the soft sleeves Trina would lay the jacket along the back of her chair and then fumble around with the black belt around her waist, just making sure it was center. Her dainty hands would move to fluff the bottom of her shirt and make sure that there were no bra lines or anything that would make her not look “put together.” After a moment she would be satisfied with her appearance and then she’d feel someone close to her. Those large hazel eyes would drift from Kara to Ryan and then Zack, they were all out on the dance floor. Telling her heart to slow down she’d think to herself ‘if they are there…then who is here….’ And greet her company with wide deer-in-the-headlight eyes.


As he spoke “Hey,” she’d just stare at him for a moment and watch him gracefully slide onto the chair across from her after asking if she minded. Tilting her head to the side Trina would open her mouth as if to say something but stop. Her right arm moved up to rub her left elbow as she finally spoke to the guy in red lipstick.


“Me?” she’d blink several times and look down at her drink with uncertainty “I—I well I guess--no” her voice was soft and held a bit of distress in it. She did not speak with a stutter, it would come off as if English wasn't he native language and she was searchign for the right words. However one look at her and she screamed American. Trina uncrossed her legs and scooted up to the end of her chair so she was sitting straight; keeping her left hand on the table and her body angled so that she could get up and walk away at any moment.


How long had it been since she had spoken to anyone like this? Forever was quiet a good possibility since Kara, Ryan, and Zack all had some classes with her. Her right hand would move from her elbow and to her neck seemingly on its own as Trina searched for something to say. Anything would do at this moment. Her eyes would flicker over to the others in hope of catching their attention but it seemed they were too caught up in the alcohol and music.


As this dancer sat across from her Trina flashed back to the routine she had seen him do on stage. It caused her cheeks to flush a light pink and her to fidget in her seat a little. Her left hand would move up to run its fingers straight through the middle of her dark brown hair, causing her thick locks to fall in whichever way they pleased. Her face was lightly made up with natural foundation, black eyeliner and mascara, some gold/brown eyeshadow layering, and finished with a chocolate lipstick. All of the colors went well with her complexion and only seemed to enhance her features instead of cover them up.


“So, do I know you?” she’d ask softly and then realize how rude it was. She didn’t recognize him from anything but the dancing but honestly who would want to talk to her? Since elementary school others had treated her like she had the plague and she never sent off those warm fuzzy feelings that other people did. Catching his eyes for a moment she’d immediately look back down at her phone lying face-down on the table.

 

[gabrielle]

Looking upon her, he watched as she fidgeted every way she seemed to have possibly done so within such a short period of time. And he thought he was the one that was bad with being so antsy. Ha. James should see her next time he points out the the jumping of his leg under a table or the hand rubbing compulsively at his face.


For the most part there was some comfort found in her actions… The way her hands didn’t seem to be able to stay still, running through her hair. The movement of deep brown strands falling across her face turned his attention from the fiddling of her hands to her hair. It was straight much to his envy, and it was dark. If he wanted to be more of a romantic, he’d probably compare it to the night, but that’s way too much of a cheesy cliche for him to say that aloud. To hell if he wouldn’t think about it, though.


It was like the velvet of soft leaves with highlights brushed with the white of moonlight. The leaves making the slightest of movements with any disturbances of a breeze, keeping its beauty. He assumed that in the right lighting the color could probably be described as a mixture of rosewood and butterscotch tones, it’s warm hues reflecting in golden sunlight.


The thing is, that’s not right. They’re not in an open field with trees covered by the warmth of autumn colors in the distance. There were no long grasses in the tone of sage greens that move as a wave in the wind. The grass wouldn’t look like the threads of the kings standing languidly, no. They’re in a shitty bar on the outskirts of downtown Monticello with overly loud music, the musk of a crowd, and humidity in the air.


Yet the fact of the matter is that he can still associate her with all the delicacy he sees in nature. Maybe he’s just been reading too much poetry. And this was all because of her hair seen in such poor lighting. He can imagine his flowery bullshit going into overdrive if he saw her in a better setting. Save him from that please, because this is already taking a number on his masculinity.


“Me? I—I well I guess—no.” Her voice seemed to match her petite form with the airy lightness he could hear in it, but there was something to obstruct that. A tenseness he could see in her nimble movements. No matter how much he was capable of appreciating all the elegance in her looks, it was a sad truth that he is easily known to exaggerate the any amount of refinement or allure. He’s an artist, what else can he say?


He watched her eyes looked anywhere but in his direction with a seemingly intense focus on her drink and a flutter to the crowd. As she seemed to search the crowd he could assume the way her look held the traces of panic. A panic of what, though? Last time he checked, he didn’t hold the threatening appearance of rippling muscles found in body builders nor the intimidating stare of his anger.


If looks could kill, every time you looked at me I think I’d be dead twenty times over. He recalled those words being spoken to him years ago. The year that was probably his worst temper-wise. Oh, the fights he got in that year. There were in abundance, and his intense arguments even more so. That’s not too important, though. He’s in a perfectly calm mood.


Yeah, he was nervous more than anything, but he wasn’t angry. That in itself should be clear in the minor upturn of a smirk. Maybe it was his tenseness? He was fidgeting, but that was under the table so she probably (hopefully) haven’t noticed. And yeah, maybe his shoulders were tense, but overall he was good at faking an open, inviting stance. It kind of came in the job description, y’know?


“So, do I know you?” Annnnnnddd there goes what he was waiting for. That clear indicator that he should leave. That there were other places that his company would be more appreciated. It’s exactly what he was so nervous about in the first place: a negative reaction. No matter what he knew usually worked, that never guarantees what it could escalate to. And the worst part of it all was that he knew this would happen! He was very clearly aware of the fact that if she’s alone looking the way she does, she probably didn’t want to be spoken to in the first place.


This was stupid! Incredibly, absolutely, completely stupid. He should have known. No, he did know. He should have listened to what he knew he should’ve done. He should’ve walked his happy ass over to someone else. Someone with a perpetual smile and a laugh that’s easily sounded, but oh, nooooo. He just had to go talk to the very blatant wallflower. The very type of person he was taught to avoid while working. Yet here he is.


Her reaction prompted an unmistakably visible falter in him. That crooked, charming smile he’d been forcing dropped within seconds and changed to something less inviting with the downturn found at the corner of his lips. His eyebrows formed into something more of a worry, and in that short moment his facade of confidence fell to show the anxiety that threw him.


Don’t pull a Maxie.


The memory of the rule written in the moment of joking around pulled a flash of a smile back onto him; it lasted only up until he spoke. It was genuine, yet clearly apprehensive. His attention went to his lap as he pulled at his tights in the form of one of his many nervous habits.


”I uh, no. You probably don't." He said with a quick, minute shake of his head. ”We might’ve gone to high school together but I, um…” He trailed off not including kind of sorta have a really bad memory because you know, I was a pill popper back then. It was the truth, but that was too personal for him to mention to his friends let alone a stranger. One good thing about this, though, was the fact that it pulled him away from the insecurity he’d surely feel should he realize that he’s already beginning to stammer and stutter.


The words of I can leave if you’d like were on his lips, nearly begging to be spoken, yet he refrained. Instead he found the stubborn determination in himself to not give up so easily. Who says she wants him to leave? It was just a question. It wasn’t like she was screaming at him to get out of her face, and blushing wasn't an entirely negative reaction, was it? Of course the shade of pink dusted across her cheeks could be because of the warmth of the building, and she had taken off her jacket... Ugh, it was probably best not to assume anything, but anything to go off of for any reason to stay was worth holding onto in his opinion. Does that make him desperate? Maybe, but either way he doesn't necessarily care all too much. One thing he couldn't quite figure out at the moment, though, was why exactly was he staying to speak with her especially with the uncomfortableness of it being taken into account?


This was too broody to think about right now. By the end of it, he knew he'd just ruin his mood for the rest of the night. So he did the next thing he could think to do rather than mull over this to such a length: run his mouth. Again, this was just another nervous habit.


"So is this your first night coming here?" He asked, easily starting the beginnings of a conversation. A perk of working at Rialto is definitely the social skills you end up learning. "I can't ever recall seeing you around before, but uh, it's not like I get to meet everyone that comes here, but still." Ah, and there he goes ruining the fluidity of his speech with another stammer and a run-on sentence. How attractive. It just screams confidence, doesn't it?

 

[Krisi]

Trina had not been paying full attention to the guy in front of her. She noted his presence and had realized he was about a foot taller than her in his heels, as she were in black ballet flats so she stayed sitting down to avoid the awkward height difference. The moment she had met his eyes with hers she saw a smirk along his face and that had made her feel weird inside. Why would he smile at her like that? Sure he seemed like a really nice guy and pretty feminized since he was in his work attire but nonetheless he was a man, men and Trina just never went well together.


After she had questioned if they had known each other she’d look up at him for a moment and catch his face changing for the worst. –oh you nit you hurt his feelings- This would cause her hazel gaze to hold onto him for a while longer. Trina would bit her bottom lip and begin rubbing her left forearm under the table as she tried to bring herself to apologize to him for offending him. And yet, she couldn’t say a word.


-What is going on with me. Why do I even feel the need to say something to him- Her mind was in the middle of a large argument between her ‘self-confident goblin’, who had apparently decided to come back from a 13 year vacation, and her ‘gloomy goblin’ that had been her little conscience over the years helping her maintain and invisible face to life.


He’d finally answer her question after returning his smile to his face, even if momentarily, and Trina would find herself nodding her head with his statement of them attending high school together. That was a high possibility had they both been from Monticello, which honestly who moved TO Monticello the only people Trina knew wanted to get AWAY from the damned city. Her hazel eyes moved down and found her drink once more as she moved her right hand to the black straw and placed it between her chocolate painted lips. The beverage was halfway gone and her ice had melted so the sip was not as strong as it had been before, which Trina liked. Her goal in life for the night was to not get trashed to the point to where she’d make reckless decisions and let someone take advantage of her. That tequila had already played a large role in why she quit dancing. Her build wasn’t slightly average for a girl her height and she knew from experience that she didn’t handle liquor well.


“That’s good, I hate it when someone remembers me and I don’t remember them” she spoke as she was thinking the sentence and then widened her eyes up at him. That was probably the most she had ever said to a stranger at one time. Perhaps it would give him a little of an explanation that she hadn’t been trying to be rude. –Who Trina what was that 10 plus words? You go!- the confidence-goblin cheered while the poor gloomy-goblin hid her face in her hands. Bringing her drink once again to her lips she’d by herself some time to slow her heart rate once more.


Her eyes would once more glance around the room, not so much looking for help anymore, just making sure that her friends were still near. Other faces caught her gaze as a few people were staring at their table. Trina would tilt her head to the side and wander why this guy and she could attract so much attention. Could it be how odd she was? It was pretty obvious she didn’t belong here and that perhaps the guy was just being nice because he worked here and had to entertain clients right? OH! That made her feel so much better if he had to talk to people as part of his job and hadn’t just decided to prance right on up to her for god knows what reason. Heaven knows she wasn’t that interesting.


It was rather obvious to Trina that her nerves had rubbed off on this guy and she felt bad for it. Why hadn’t either one of them walked away yet though? Was it because the uncomfortable found comfort in having someone similar around? Did that even make sense? Trina would raise her right brow at the thought and be pulled back to planet earth after he spoke once more. A question this time followed by an observation? Trina liked when people spoke so much, it helped her find an easy way to avoid certain parts of the sentence/question and answer as shortly as she wanted.


“Yes, my friends brought me” she’d find that it was a little easier to talk to him since she was helping him do his job. Had she really known that he had, for god knows what reason, found her interesting on her own and just wanted to talk to her she’d probably be babbling worse than he was. “I’m surprised you saw me now…” she’d mumble quietly but look back up at him praying he hadn’t heard “uh-m it seems fun to work here” she’d offer quickly and find her voice had risen to a normal tone. Looking down at her lap she’d begin pulling the bottom of her shirt in hopes that maybe when she looked up she’d be alone again and on her way home?


Damn. Not a chance. Her eyes raised slowly to take in the man with red lips still sitting across from her in his robe. Perhaps he wasn’t that bad but this interaction thing was way too new for her to know what exactly it was she was supposed to do in cases like this. Tilting her head to the side, causing her brown locks to fall over her right shoulder she’d see what the guy would come back with.


Her gaze fell to the onlookers and she felt as if she had a pimple on her face the size of the moon. Her shoulders were hunched in discomfort and once again she realized that her makeup and clothes weren’t fooling anyone, she didn’t belong and her friends had only invited her to be nice and hope one outing at a gay bar would change her. Hell her friends didn’t even know she was straight. But they were the best friends she had and she wouldn’t trade them for the world.


Trina remembered lunch with Kara when she had invited her that morning…..


“So what are your plans for the evening Trina?” Kara’s sweet voice was like a song in the coffee shop while the two studied for their last two exams.


“I got a new book” she’d answer with a smile and shrug her shoulders.


“That sound exciting, but here is what I’m thinking, Zack and Ryan are going out tonight and want me to go. But I don’t like to be the only girl and I really-really-really would love to go out with you just once” Kara could speak for the longest time with taking a breath and Trina found that admirable.


“Kara I—“


“No please don’t answer yet. Just think about” Kara interrupted and gave her the famous puppy dog eyes and lip pout. “Please?”


“I guess… if we didn’t stay out too late… and it wasn’t one of those places where people walked around naked…..maybe but—“ Trina’s voice faded and she couldn’t even believe she had agreed. But Kara, Ryan, and Zack had done so much for her and provided such a support system for the past 5 years, beginning in high school that she felt like she should do something for them.


Kara would be happy and then next thing Trina knew she was back at the bar, sitting at a table with one of the male dancers, particularly the one male dancer she had watched intently perform. Oh how the gods had humor today.

 

[gabrielle]

After he'd spoken, Max moved his attention away from his tights more or less with the acknowledgment on the fact that he shouldn't be messing with them like he was. It was okay to pull at the strings of his jeans and all--they were already ripped and pretty shitty, so it didn't matter. Okay, maybe it did, but he didn't care. The tights, though? Those mattered. Fishnet tights for dancers costs around twenty dollars, and he only had two pairs. He'd be damned to have one of them rip. Maybe he could make a statement with it and make more holes, but that wasn't something he wanted to try any time soon. If he went with that, he'd start having to shave his legs. That in itself was too feminine for him. Hell, that'd be a lot of work, too. He can barely work up enough effort to shave his face let along both of his legs.


Oh, wow. Okay. Why did he just start thinking so intensively about tights and shaving. That was just plain weird. See, it's the thoughts like these that only worsen the masculinity issues. Like oh, yeah. He can grow chest hair and a full beard, but you know, no mind to that. Those heels and lipstick push all of that out of the way. At least he didn't enjoy those things, though. Being able to look good in both was one thing, but liking it was whole other thing in itself to him that he just wasn't ready to accept.


Maybe he needs to start spending a little more time in straight bars.


"That’s good, I hate it when someone remembers me and I don’t remember them." Her words pulled him from his thoughts, and his attention was once more back to her. The temporary look of surprise that crossed her features wasn't really noticed by him, and a short nod was taken in agreement for his response. The issues having others remember you while having forgotten them yourself was nothing he was unfamiliar to. It's hard for him to admit, but the truth is that he really did have a bad memory. Stay away from drugs, kids. Ha. Please.


Let's be real here. Max totally misses getting high. It's a bittersweet thing, though. It's not the high that's bad; it's what comes after that's not so great. By all means it's fun and all, but the depression, paranoia, nose bleeds, lost relationships, bad health, empty wallet, everything... At the end of it all the high stopped making up for the downsides.


Ah, now isn't the time to start thinking about drugs again. That'd have him craving for something in no time. Moving on.


He took notice of the way her gaze would move to the crowd and then to him, her lap, back at him, and back to the crowd once more as they spoke. It was as if she couldn't quite decide what she wanted to look at, and each time her sights were on him, it only lasted a few seconds. He couldn't help but see her eyes as being in a dance. Constantly moving, changing from one thing to another.


"Yes, my friends brought me." Well, it's nice to know that she didn't just up and get here by herself just to sit and drink alone. This new information he found did well in normalizing her more to him. She was becoming less of something unapproachable to something more on his level. That's usually how these things go for him, though. It's the idea of talking to someone who seems to stand-offish that agitates his anxiety, not the actual act of having a conversation. Small talk was what he was good at. Now, approaching people... not so much half the time. It really just depended on if his anxiety wanted to just kick in and have a grand time such as tonight or not.


He saw her lips move; she was speaking something he couldn't quite make out. Words of come again? were moments away from being spoken before she continued with “Uh-m it seems fun to work here.” It was a quick distraction from his question, easily turning his attention to something he finds far more interesting.


<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_05/IMG_5265.png.cb743d14e7d45c6a200bd9b5041c4e3a.png" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="54113" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_05/IMG_5265.png.cb743d14e7d45c6a200bd9b5041c4e3a.png" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p> "Yeah, it's great. For the most part, I mean." Max started with hinted enthusiasm that changed to a slight hesitation as he'd continued to speak. Noticing his hair had mostly fallen from the bun it was in earlier, he opted to undo it all together and put the hair tie around this wrist instead as he spoke. "Sometimes there are a certain... situations that aren't so great to deal with, but the dancing is fun. I enjoy it. If it was up to me I'd definitely pick other music, but it's not my decision, y'know?"


Out of curiosity he finally turned his attention towards to crowd to see what she kept looking at and found nothing out of the ordinary. Paying more attention, he was able to regard the way that some people here and there were looking their way. Again, this wasn't something he found to be weird. Maybe if he wasn't paid to have people watch him dance he might find it a little uncomfortable, but by now he was used to having eyes on him. He was never one to really ever be embarrassed by his body either, and now certainly wasn't the time that he'd start blushing over it.


With that thought he realized something. She was shy. Her tenseness wasn't because she was in a bad mood, no. It was just because of the others surrounding her. That's what he's assuming at least. He wouldn't know if he's actually correct, but it was pretty easy to find confidence in his inference. Taking into account a few things he was able to gather in such a short period of time, his reasoning was pretty convincing. The way her uneasiness seemed to double with one look towards the eyes looking their way was a dead giveaway, and no more information was really needed.


"It gets a little boring during breaks, especially at the beginning of the night, but the performances make up for it in my opinion." He continued with a casual shrug, pulling the maroon fabric of his robe to where it'd cover more of his chest. "You should go meet up with your friends though, wherever they are. I'm sure they didn't bring you here to not spend time with you. Do you not dance?" Wait, fuck, he realized seconds too late that he probably just gave her mixed signals with telling her to go to other people yet asking something that would continue the conversation between them. He almost wanted to laugh but also punch himself at what a stupid thing that was to say, but otherwise refrained from doing either. Surely he'd make an even worse impression of himself if he did that. But wait--since when did he care about the opinion of a stranger? This didn't even matter! They didn't know each other, and he was here in heels, makeup, and clothes best suited for the most promiscuous of them all. As far as dignity goes, he didn't really have much to lose.

 

[Krisi]

As he spoke Trina would allow her eyes to stay fixed on his face for a longer period of time. Her hazel eyes would reflect the brighter lights in the bar and occasionally move to the others around them, but they’d manage to come right back to him each time for a little longer. His blonde hair had fallen from his bun and the left corner of her lip would turn up into a grin, his hair was wavy and had a mind of its own. Why was she thinking this? She wasn’t sure, she just liked to take people in and imagine what they could be like. This guy was very hard for her, interesting enough that she was talking to him, because his appearance came off as someone like Zack. He was wearing heels, makeup, and provocative clothing however if he wanted to play with those on his side of the fence he wouldn’t be talking to her now would he? Sure he was talking to Trina just because it was his job to dance and entertain the customers, which was still okay but he had picked her and not a guy or something.


“I like the music” her voice was small and a flash of white teeth emerged as she smiled while she spoke. Trina loved art and music because they were so different and allowed ones self to go on a journey and be someone else. Sure this music was totally different and not something she would listen to everyday but she could think of herself in a different way just by hanging on to the words of each song playing. “But, I like all music so—“ she’d find her right hand moving to her face and her pointer finger tracing her cheek. She was still nervous but as long as she could see Zack, Ryan, and Kara she’d be fine and this guy was keeping his distance and hadn’t tried touching her so she was fine.


As he spoke again she would nod in agreement seeing where he was coming from. He loved to perform that much was clear and anyone who watched him on stage could see that love as Trina had. Her fingers would move from her face and once again move through her brown hair slowly, it was rather warm and her hair was sticking to the back of her neck. Being a girl blew. Trina would tilt her head to the other side to give her neck some air and say a silent ‘thank you’ that her makeup hadn’t started running. Then after his pause his last words confused her and her eyes would narrow as she tried to understand the underlying meaning to them.


"You should go meet up with your friends though, wherever they are. I'm sure they didn't bring you here to not spend time with you. Do you not dance?"


Shaking her head she’d place both of her hands in her lap and bite the bottom of her lip. Well would you say this last about ten or fifteen minutes? Possibly longer? That was a record for Trina in any way you looked at it and he should be bored with her by now. No one was ever interested in her for more than a few moments and her speaking skills caused people to get irritated easily. But was she supposed to excuses herself, or answer the last question? Oh decisions, decisions.


She’d stand from her seat, not realizing how she had really needed to stretch her legs, and look at him with uncertain eyes. Her right hand would once again move to her straw and she’d drink her girly looking beverage that was almost empty now, man talking to strangers really made her thirsty for alcohol perhaps that was the only reason she was doing so well right now.


“They uhhm… well they don’t mean to get distracted” she’d pause looking for the right words “I’m just different” her second part was low but audible “this is their scene, not so much mine.” Trina would turn her body a little so that she was facing Kara, who was macking on some guy, and then close her eyes as she turned to Max with genuine laugh “Dance? I mean it doesn’t look pretty honestly” she’d run her hand through her hair again and this time hold onto a section of it as just the thought of dancing frightened her again and made her stomach feel uneasy. As she held her empty glass she’d try to understand what he had wanted from her. Should she leave? But he had come to her table, if he was done he could have easily excused himself and asked her to leave. However then he asked her a question at the end maybe he also had social problems? No that couldn’t be it, the way he pulled off his outfit, how he dance. There was no way a guy like this had confidence issues. Just look at him.


Well that was rather low on Trina’s part to think, he was she to judge someone by their appearance any way. She’d mentally slapped herself and stood to see if this guy would have anything else to say. She could always use the excuse of needing a new drink to get her away without feeling awkward about it.

 

[gabrielle]

"I like the music... But, I like all music so—" His attention was divided from her words as he watched the movements of her hand and the smile he found to be alluring cross her lips. It was in that moment that he realized that not just her hair was pretty, but so was her face. That he liked seeing her smile and wanted to see it more often. And aside for him taking in her appearance, her words were unsurprising to him. C'mon now, who doesn't like music?


He didn't have much time to contemplate her reply as the way she bit her lip demanded his attention. Her lips were something he avoided looking towards for reasons that were hopefully obvious, but it looks like he ended up failing. As soon as the thought of describing her lips as kissable crossed his mind, he immediately wanted to move forward and just hit his forehead against the table. Of course he wouldn't do that though, no. He had his pretty boy face to worry about as a dancer, and how unattractive would it be to perform with two black eyes?


Okay, who was he kidding. He didn't care about that. The only thing keeping him from doing it was the fact that he was still within eyesight of the girl he was speaking too. Even so, it was tempting, and he couldn't help but glance at the surface of the table for longer than a second.


Luckily for his face, her standing up effectively distracted him from his melodramatic thoughts. It was in that moment that he had to stop and wonder what in the hell was it that he was exactly doing here.


Anyways.


"They uhhm… well they don’t mean to get distracted... I'm just different. This is their scene, not so much mine." Her words of I'm different pulled images of angst-filled days and the woes of adolescence into his mind. It was humoring to say the least, imagining some random kid yelling it at the sky, and Max ended up biting his tongue to keep himself from smiling. All he really accomplished was getting himself to only smirk and look away to hide his amusement, but that in itself probably didn't help much. Looking like a freak just smirking crookedly to himself for no apparent reason just has to look stellar, yeah?


"Dance? I mean it doesn't look pretty honestly." He was pulled from his thoughts once more as she continued speaking, and hearing her laugh only made his smile widen into something more joyful, showing his teeth. Hm. Well. It didn't take much for him to decide that she had a pretty laugh that he'd want to hear more often as well.


"I have to go back and perform soon, but I think we could fit in a crash course if you'd want." Max replied all while keeping the look of lightheartedness in his demeanor. "I'm sure you'd blow people a way with those undiscovered twerking skills." He said jokingly as he stood as well, feeling out of place just sitting as she had stood.


"Here, do you need this?" He asked as he pulled the hair tie from his wrist, leaving an agitated ring of red around it in its wake. The offer had forced its way out of him with the way he'd watch her attempt and fail at getting her hair away from her neck. "I'm Max by the way." He said lightly as he held it towards her, trying to ignore how he obviously stood about a foot above her more or less. It was easily preferred on his part that he liked talking to her while seated. At least then they were at a closer eye-level, yeah?

 

[Krisi]

Trina watched his eyes move from her to the table and then move back to her as she stood. She would bite the inside of her cheek as he turned his head away and appeared to have a smile on his face, causing her to wander what had happened. Usually Trina was not one to be thought of as funny, her sense of humor was sort of non-existent. Rolling her hazel eyes up to the ceiling to give him a moment of privacy was all Trina could think of.


As he spoke to her of a crash course she opened her mouth and not a word came out. It was sumply stutters of “Wel—I—uhm..” as she fiddled with the straw in her empty glass. Then once he added on something about twerking skills Trina faltered and knocked the glass over on the table. “Oh no!” she’d laugh out while moving to pick the ice cubes up and place them carefully back in the glass. Her hair would fall over her shoulders and hide the embarrassment on her face.


After she had picked her mess up she’d finally stomach the courage to look at him and speak. She’d take a small breath and speak quietly while using a napkin to dry her hands.


“just don’t say I didn’t warn you” she’d smile and shake her head, so upset with herself for being clumsy “and know there will not be any twerking attempts” she’d hold a finger up at him as her eyes followed his body from sitting to standing over her.


Suddenly she felt inferior to him and greatly wished she had stayed sitting down, but at the time it had sounded like he wanted her to leave. Trina’s arm would once again move to hold her left elbow in an unsure display of body language. Then he was offering her something, a hair tie? Why would he? She blushed once again and realized that he had been paying more attention to her than she had previously thought. Her hand would reach for the ring causing her tiny fingers to brush against his momentarily.


“Thanks” she’d say softly and pull her hand away quickly. She would place the hair tie on her wrist then use both of her hands to bundle up her thick hair into a ponytail on the back of her head, stopping for a moment she would make sure to pull out her bangs to frame her face. Then as she spun the elastic around and through her hair she’d introduce herself in return “I’m Trina, nice to meet you.”


After she finished putting her hair up she would take a few moments to readjust her top. Having moved both of her arms the halter top had slipped and revealed a sliver of her black bra underneath. With ease she would readjust the tie behind her neck and make sure her belt was situated right in the middle of her waistline. Were they really going to dance? Would she be able to even attempt dancing near him? It must have been the alcohol because sober Trina would have been having a seizure at this moment from the pressure.


Her hazel eyes would look back up at him questionably, almost silently asking him why he was being nice to her. She’d tilt her head to the side, causing her brown ponytail to tickle her bare shoulders. What would her little group say now? Honestly they would probably be surprised she was with a man more than anything.

 

[gabrielle]

While his words of teaching her how to dance had been near entirely spoken out of playfulness, he hadn't expected such a strong reaction to a joke from her. It was pretty cute to him, the way she seemed to have a moment of speechlessness followed by a clumsy waver of her hands. Part of him felt bad for possibly being the cause of her behavior; we say possibly because he wouldn't know any better. It's not like he knows who she is or how she acts, and he wasn't about to assume that he's causing some girl to trip over herself, saying it mustn't be any habit of her's for sure. Yet the point of the matter is that only part felt bad. No, he did not regret his words because of her. If anything, he found amusement, and he once more tried to hide his smirk as she moved.


"Just don’t say I didn’t warn you, and know there will not be any twerking attempts." She proved herself to be able to have him smiling once more, catching the way she held her hand up in a way that reminded him less of a mysterious stranger in a club and more of an agitated mother pointedly keeping her word while giving into something her children had been asking for. Again, it was something he found humor in, but the atmosphere of the conversation had quickly changed after that point for a reason he couldn't possibly begin to fathom with a blush on her face and the way she halfway crossed her arms.


With that being said, he had to pointedly remind himself that not everyone was as simple to deal with as the lonely drunks who just want something from him. See, there's a reason he typically only talks to people at the bar, and it wasn't just because they'd buy him drinks. They just were so much more... transparent. Uncomplicated. The relationship between himself and those at the bar tended to be quite straightforward. No hands, no drugs, and no mention of that fiance back home was allowed, but any amount of conversation about anything else was open for all. Maxwell isn't here to sell his body. He's here to dance, and enjoy his time in between. Sure, it can get draining to talk to certain people at times, but there's a simple solution to that. He doesn't have to stay out of the dressing room like he does. No, he chooses to do that, and that in itself should be noticeable with the way only a handful of the previously preformed dancers were in eyesight.


Anyways, this girl seemed to be nothing similar to those that he usually spoke with. She didn't hold the glassy-eyed looks of intoxication. She didn't seem to be unable to keep her eyes away from his legs--not that he can blame those that weren't the same; those legs of his should obviously be killer with how often he dances--nor did her eyes linger for too long anywhere except his face. It really was different to experience. Again, this is not the type of situation he's used to while at Rialto. Somewhere else yeah, he'd be expecting something like this, but here? No.


<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_05/maxxinee.png.1c16be36f1721cf1e83cfa2085b2ef85.png" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="54255" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_05/maxxinee.png.1c16be36f1721cf1e83cfa2085b2ef85.png" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p> Despite having obviously had a glass, she has so far held her composure for the most part. To him she seemed to be something surpassing of sophisticated intricacy. He didn't know what was on her mind at first, but that didn't seem quite so important whenever they'd fallen into light conversation. Yet she was able to pull back that enigmatic aspect to herself with the way she closed in. It was as if someone had just threatened to burn her, prompting her to hold onto herself in a gesture of unwavering refusal to give in to complacency.


With her short expression of gratitude, Max was able to pull a small nod in recognition, but the perplexity he was feeling was most likely blatant, lingering in the slight narrow of his eyes. His state of mind was quite easy to regard: he was confused by her quick change in demeanor.


"I’m Trina, nice to meet you."


"Well, Trina," He purposefully started with her name. "We could do something more like the Whip and Nae Nae." His eyebrows were raised in a lighthearted manner; not unlike Trina, he wasn't actually sure if they were about to do this or not. So he went with what he typically did whenever he didn't know what to make of a situation: turn it into a joke. "Or you know, we could waltz to this music. It doesn't have to be something slower like piano." Ah, he really did have bad humor. Oh well.

 

[Krisi]

It was the smirk that made Trina feel comfortable and take him more literal than she should have. Something about the way the blonde man in heels looked so at ease and harmless while wearing a genuine smile. Sure he was laughing at her, and her social awkwardness but Trina had not gotten the feeling that he was laughing at her in a negative way. He seemed interested and that felt great to her, but at the same time it did stir up a frightened voice in the back of her head. Her whole body was telling her to stop and to go find her friends, and yet she had all of this curiosity that was making it hard to think. It was like everything she had not done in the past 15 years was coming out to play and now offer her ideas.


“The uh… whip and nae nae….now you must be kidding” she’d look at the ground and shake her head and let out a giggle as he suggested the waltz and would move her right hand down to her lower left arm casually. Slowly tilting her head up her bangs would once again frame her face and the ponytail slid against her tanned shoulders. As she went to open her mouth to speak she would feel an arm around her and jump ever so slightly under the new-found pressure on her shoulders. Her head would turn up instantly to find Ryan staring down at her and then over to Max in a very protective way.


“Ryan—hey” she’d say softly as she moved her hand to lift his arm up and twirl out from under him in a quick, but not rude manner. “This is Max, he dances here” she’d place her hand to her forehead and sigh, of course he did just look at him in his get-up.


“Sup, you need another drink T?” Ryan had been under the impression Kara was ‘babysitting’ Trina and so after her had seen Kara and Zack dancing he immediately abandoned the girls he was with to go find her. Ryan had feelings for her but was too afraid to tell her because he knew how her past was and knew how quick she was to write someone off. He just took over the ‘big brother’ role instead.


“No, thanks” she’d let her eyes look back to Max and suddenly started feeling self-conscious when Zack emerged like a magician and greeted the three with a flamboyant smile..


“Well hello dearies, oh you… ” he would say to Max in a drunken tone and give him a wink. Trina frowned, Zack winked at everyone and so she hoped that Max wouldn’t be upset for her friends acting all… weird. Heh she was the pot calling the kettle black there wasn’t she. “Anyway, Ryan what’s this” he’d ask and follow to each of their faces.


"Just hadn't seen ya'll in a bit. figured I'd check in" Ryan was about 6feet tall and weighed about 160 pounds. He was just an average guy with blonde hair and just as average clothing. Zack was about 5 feet and 9 inches tall and dark hair and dark eyes with a model-like build. No he wasn’t into sports or dancing, he just had a very fast metabolism and ate like one of those skinny mean girls in high school.


Hazel eyes would be almost as pronounced as a porcelain doll as Trina couldn’t help but feel good about having Ryan come to check on her. Her biggest fear had been that no one would notice if she went missing. Trina was at a loss for words and knew that Max would have to go back to dancing anyway.


“See Trina I knew when we took your kindle you could find some other way to have fun” Zack grinned from ear to ear and looked over to Max with a hand on his heart as if to say ‘oh the poor little un-socialized dear.’


“This is Ryan and Zack” Trina would finally catch a break in the middle of being talked over and finish her introductions. Her hazel eyes shifted from each of the boys and suddenly Trina would become aware of the heat. Thankful for the ponytail holder because it wasn’t as bad with her hair up.

 

[gabrielle]

Maxwell glanced over the person that had approached them. Ryan, if he heard Trina right. The way she seemed startled by his touch didn't surprise him nor did he really think anything of it. A lot of people flinched whenever someone does something like that whilst unprepared. And hey, he can't really make assumptions based on something as small as a flinch. Much to his own dismay, he was one of those people to flinch incredibly harshly at the smallest of things himself. Of course there was a reason for that, but just because he had something behind it didn't mean that everyone else did. It wasn't out of the way as a possibility, but you know, what does it really matter anyways? This girl's past was nothing that was his business, and as far as he was concerned, it was going to stay that way unless she got drunk and became incredibly clingy to him in particular as she cried over her childhood woes.


As the two spoke to each other, Maxwell's attention quickly drifted. He really wasn't the type to eavesdrop into conversations, and as soon as he'd caught onto Ryan's protective demeanor, he especially didn't care to listen. He didn't know if this guy was drunk and violent, and one thing he certainly didn't need was some Mr. Random getting all offended by the tiniest of things. As far as he was concerned, it was time to leave. He did kind of find the situation a bit fucked up, though.


See, through Max's eyes what he saw was a girl with over protective friends (boyfriend?) that couldn't let her do her own thing all while being unable to keep her company themselves. C'mon now, he had a tendency to assume the worst out of everything and with having this guy walk up all protectively once he had started talking to her (and not beforehand, mind you), it was a bit difficult to look on the bright side of the whole situation as Trina could. To Max it was almost as if they didn't find her entertaining enough to be around yet she was for them only.


Maxwell was very well aware of the fact that there was obviously more to them than he could possibly know and that his feelings were more or less just because of his lack of knowledge on their dynamics. So in the end he decided to stop caring about it. It wasn't his business, and he didn't need to get involved in it. Take that and put it on top of the fact that he's beginning to assume things... Well, that's making an ass out of you and me.


Anyways, as he wasn't regarded by Ryan, Max turned his attention away and began looking through the crowd momentarily. He wasn't looking for anything in particular per say; he was just looking away to distract himself up until he got the chance to say his goodbyes or got bored of waiting and just walked off. That sounds bad, but it's the truth here. Although nothing negative has been done towards him, he's very well aware of the temper he himself holds. And seeing the protectiveness one has over the other... Well, that could very well turn into something that could cause conflict if it was taken any further than that; Max didn't want to wait around to see that happen. It was better just to not take any chances and just abscond the hell away.


A memory crossed his mind to something that happened years prior. He remembered leaving Amelia with Cain to... No, that's not important. He left because of a girl. Gracie, if he's not mistaken. He had wanted to be the good friend, so he'd brought her out of a bad situation only to walk down the street with her and witness some catcalls. It had resulted in a particularly... rough fight to say the least which had just added onto the stress of that week. All of the arguments, the drama... Oh, these were not good memories.


With one glance towards Trina, he was painfully reminded of Gracie with one realization. Trina looked like her. No wonder he'd thought she was pretty.


The thought pulled a sick feeling to his stomach hallmark of his typical anxiety, and thereafter came the feeling of dread. A heavy feeling set in his chest, and he couldn't help the way a frown tugged at his lips. His hands immediately left his sides to wring, and he could feel his heart rate pick up. No, no, this was not good. He shouldn't be thinking of her. This was bad. This was bad. This was incredibly, absolutely, and completely bad.


"Well hello dearies, oh you…" Max's eyes fluttered up towards whomever this new voice sounded from. His eyes were wide for a moment, and his expression still held the high-strung look of what he was going through. It was then that he realized that he was indeed making a face, and in a moment he composed himself, putting over a practiced facade of a smile. The hints of the tenseness he was still feeling lingered, but it was most likely nothing that a stranger would pick up on unless of course they were oddly observant.


It took nearly no time at all until the stranger seemed to lose interest in Max, whom had no problem at all with that. See, this was more than his earlier nervousness. This was his anxiety in its full form, not just some fidgeting under the table or the butterflies of a pretty girl. This was nauseating; it was panic. These things can be set off by some of the simplest things, and much to his dismay, Gracie had been one of them tonight.


His thoughts raced of her--of what ifs that moved towards Amelia and even Cain. Thoughts that he just could not throw out.


A quick look was taken over his shoulder courtesy of the paranoia that tended to come with this, and as he turned back he saw that those in front of him seemed to have their attention currently turned towards him. His eyes went towards the second stranger who had a smile on his face and a hand over his chest as he looked towards him, then to Trina. He knew that she had said something, but he didn't know what. Max just couldn't concentrate right now, no. Not whenever he was like this.


Max put in more effort to hide the turmoil he was in, taking a measured breath before speaking.


"I d-do have to say it's been a p-p..." A second was taken as he seemed to be physically pained by his own speech, but the look had disappeared as quickly as it had shown itself. "--nice meeting y-y--you all." He stopped for a short moment as if to compose himself before continuing, running a hand through his hair. "I have to go. I'll, you know, see you around?" He asked with a nod, leaving without waiting for a reply and heading straight for the dressing room at a quick pace, dodging through the crowd of people.


He was already taking off his heels by the time he walked through the dressing room door, just about slamming it behind him. The stilettos were dropped carelessly to the floor and were followed by the silk of the maroon robe he'd been wearing as he paced across the cold tiles. His left hand went to the back of his hair to pull compulsively; it was a countless nervous habit upon the near dozen he has.


Max was quickly shutting himself out of his surroundings. His entire chest was tight; he couldn't possibly find it in him to stay still. It was as if breathing was a foreign concept, and deep breaths were incapable for him. It was easy for him to realize what this was: an anxiety attack. Panic attack. Whatever you'd want to call it. He didn't know if there was a difference, and he didn't care. He just knew that it was happening, and there was no way to stop it.


"Whoa, whoa. Hey, man. Max." Suddenly hands were on his shoulders, and a long face was in front of him. A narrow jaw and big, down turned brown eyes. Tanned skin. Earrings. Dreads. It was Hayden. Max was silent and stared back at him wide-eyed, eyebrows worked into worry. "It's good, man. Count with me, yeah?"


Max's gaze had moved from Hayden towards the others in the room, which was a huge mistake considering noticing all of those eyes on him only worsened things. Hayden looked the small group he'd been residing with beforehand having regarded that Max's attention was on them and made a gesture towards the door with a subtle nod. This was routine, and it sucked. One after the other followed in standing and walking out, each of them with varying levels of annoyance and concern. Outside of the dressing room several of the dancers all moved to the bar, continuing to chat with each other.


"Counting?" Hayden asked once more, taking his hands off of Max's shoulders as an attempt to push them away had been made on Max's part. "Or do you wanna tell me what's up?"


"It, it's stu-stupid." Max said with a shake of his head and a smile that was too tense to even remotely be considered genuine.


"Yeah, you say that every time. I should stop asking, huh?" Hayden replied with a relaxed smile. Damn him for being so calm on the time. Really, damn him, because Max was jealous of the way the guy seemed like he was perpetually high. It's beyond him how he's such a good dancer with the way the rest of his movements were so lax.


As Max had mentioned earlier, he was supposed to go back on stage soon. It should be obvious that wasn't going to happen being now just so happened to be when the time came around. The other dancers simply just went on without him, and the stage was noticeably emptier with the absence of both Max and Hayden. It wasn't anything that was surprising to anyone. This was unfortunately a common occurrence.


Around fifteen minutes had passed by the time Max had calmed himself down enough. He'd counted to ten about three times with Hayden, had a glass of water, and had spent the past ten minutes laying on the cold floor with his head resting on his arms while he went between staring at something on the floor and having his eyes closed. Hayden had stayed with him; he sat at the chair by his own work space doing whatever the hell it was that had him busy. Max hadn't been paying attention.


"Will you go on, onstage with me?" He asked, breaking the comforting silence that had drawn out between the two. Hayden really was a good friend to Max; he was his best friend aside for James. Then again, most of the people that were involved in his life were his best friends. Max was just the type of person to easily get close to people like that.


Hayden had seemed hesitant at first, but not because of his reluctance to dance. No, it was out of concern for the other, and it showed in his reply of, "Are you sure, man?"


Max's typical joking, smart-ass reply of "I wouldn't be a--ass-asking if I wasn't," was more than enough to prompt an agreement from the other despite lingering worry due to Max's stutter. It was a thing that the boy had always struggled with, and although it was under control for the most part in recent years, it still showed up with his stress and fatigue. If he was still stuttering, it was easy for Hayden to know that he was obviously still stressed, but he decided not to say anything. Having his anxiety kick in while on stage was nothing that he's known Max to have to go through, and if anything, he'd guess that it was actually something that helped calm him.


And so, the two went about getting the right song to play and having another dancer join them. They were going to do one of Max's favorite performances, and although he couldn't muster up the energy to smile, just the anticipation was beginning to bring him into a better mood. Dancing really was just something that he needed to do. Something that he truly enjoyed, and it showed.


He went through the dance with the others, taking the front of the formation. His hair was in the way with having given away his hair tie, but that was okay. This was one of the more complicated dances; it was a practiced one nonetheless. It was easy to lose the worries and stress of his disorder with this. Concentrating on being the best he could, counting steps, making sure everything was perfect with each move... It was demanding, and demanding distractions were what he needed right now.

 

[Krisi]

As it would seem that everyone had something to say Trina stayed silent and watched Max. Something about him zoning out and not looking at her made it easier for her to watch him. Her hazel eyes followed his features as Zack and Ryan went on and on about something. Probably Zack telling Ryan not to act so protective over Trina. She was an adult after all. However Trina couldn’t take her eyes away from Max, something was wrong.


The way his eyes shifter through the crowd and he seemed to be in a different place. Trina felt something inside of her hurt for him. Then his eyes would meet her, but it’d be like he was looking at her in a different realization. Quickly looking back to the floor and then to the others, as she didn’t want to be caught staring. Then watching his reaction to Zack Trina almost reached for him, almost but she really didn’t move. The thought itself was enough to make her feel like vomiting. She could barely touch her friends, let alone a stranger. But soon Max’s smile appeared over his face and Trina hoped that he would be alright.


As the group had spoken a few statements and Max had not replied Trina got very worried. He had changed from the person she had been talking too before. “Max….” her voice was quiet and questioning but he was already speaking and then walking away. Reaching her hand up as if to stop him Trina would stop herself and close her hand over her chest.


His words broke apart into stutters and she swore something passed over his face. All she could do was nod her head, she had no idea what was going on. Surely Ryan wasn’t scary enough to send Max into that kind of fit. “yea…” she’d breath.


Ryan would then move to whisper something to Zack after Max left and pat Trina on the head. “You alright?” he’d ask curiously and Trina would simply nod.


“Can I have my kindle now?” she’d say flatly. She had done enough socialization and quite frankly if that is how things were going to end she would stick with the friends she had. Zack would nod and go find Kara, appearing a few minutes later with her kindle.


“Here you are hun, you sure you don’t want to come dance with us” Zack would ask slowly and feel like he missed something huge.


“I think I’ve had enough fun.” Trina’s voice was lame and she’d begin walking over to a corner table where she could hide behind a plant “let me know when y’all are ready to go” her smile was not legit and she’d bite her bottom lip as she got settled. Perhaps if she were a normal girl the meeting would have been better.


Trina pressed the button on her kindle and would be emerged in her story. Every time the dancers came on stage she would peer from behind her plant and be disappointed to not see Max. She really was worried about him. However after about twenty minutes there he was center stage. A little smile formed in the upper left corner of her mouth and she’d watch him move flawlessly with the other two dancers. She wished she could have the confidence to perform in front of others. After his dance was over Trina buried herself back in her kindle and finished two glasses of water. Her friends were trashed and she’d be the safest bet to get them home.


Zack had other things on his mind. He wasn’t sure exactly what had happened but he felt like he owed that dancer guy an explanation. That and of course Zack just wanted to get a good look at his face again. What could he say, Zack appreciated art in all its forms. The slender male would make his way through the back highly insisting he find Max. Somehow his charm would get him right outside of the dressing room where he would wait for Max to emerge from behind the scenes. Once the blonde male would come out Zack would stop him quickly before others noticed.


“Look friend, Trina is a very sweet girl and we can’t help but jump around her like that. She doesn’t really talk to people. At all. So I just thought I’d let you know that’s why the blonde over did it. She’s more of a read in the corner type gal” he’d wink at Max and wave at him “anyway for some reason I felt like playing fairy god mother. In this outfit though can you blame me?” he laugh and then be off on his way.


Kara, Ryan, and Zack would all gather around the table Trina was reading at. They were ready to go and Trina would take Kara’s keys from her happily. As the group made their way outside Trina attempted to look once more for Max. But alas the place was crowded and it was near closing time so many of the people were moving about.


The ride to get the guys home took about fifteen minutes and then Trina arrived at Kara’s house. Kara lived in a one bedroom apartment and always let Trina crash on her couch so that she didn’t have to disturb her mother and step dad at late nights when she worked. Trina watched as Kara crawled into bed in her ‘going out clothes’ and held in a giggle. The tiny, tanned girl would change into flannel pj pants and a black tank top pulling the hair tie from her head and shaking her hair around. Her hazel eyes would focus on the hair tie for a few moments as she would lie on the couch . Placing it around her wrist Trina would wrap her arms underneath her chest and fall asleep dreaming of the blonde dance with the red lips. Not in a lusty way. Just in a curious ‘I can’t believe I actually talked to some one’ way.


The next few days were going to be a blur for her as she had work at the gas station Saturday and Sunday, then her art-walk on Monday evening. Trina loved the art walk and found that artists were just as weird as she was and easier to talk with.

 

[gabrielle]

Out of breath due to the dance, Max once more slipped off the stage easily. He could feel the flush on his cheeks, the burn in his legs. He and the two others retreated back to the dressing room, all with harsh breaths turning to their water bottles in the room as they kicked off their heels. This was what he understood to be why so many people didn't find dance fun. Apparently the temporary exhaustion isn't the most preferable thing, but that isn't at all true for Max. It was one of his favorite parts about dancing, but then again, everything about it was his favorite thing.


After he'd had enough water and touched up the makeup he wore, Max was slipping on the robe he had once more and was walking out. Opening the door, he kept a hand on the door frame as he slipped on his heels once more, his robe still untied. The dressing room was backstage in the middle of a long hallway, so anyone that wasn't working here shouldn't be in this area. With that being said, you should be able to just about imagine the surprise that stirred in Max as an unfamiliar voice took his attention away from adjusting his clothes.


"Look friend, Trina is a very sweet girl, and we can’t help but jump around her like that. She doesn’t really talk to people. At all. So I just thought I’d let you know that’s why the blonde over did it. She’s more of a read in the corner type gal." Oh, it was that guy from earlier. A nearly blank stare was matched to his wink; Max simply couldn't bring himself to smile. Let's just say the lack of a one was a side affect of his anxiety; it makes it difficult for him to do so.


Looking friendly was a part of his job description so those who only see him here would have no idea about how fake Max really is up until he has moments like these. Outside of work he sees no reason to force himself to smile and act flirty as he does at Rialto. It's the sad truth that Max is actually quite the serious person and even more so when compared to his outgoing identity found here in the atmosphere of the club.


"Anyway, for some reason I felt like playing fairy god mother. In this outfit though, can you blame me?" Max was silent as the other made his departure with a laugh and no wait for Max's reply. Max simply looked down once more to slip on the other stiletto having paused earlier as his attention had been distracted. It was only whenever he stood to his full height that he stopped to consider the stranger's words.


As he'd expected there did turn out to be more to their situation than he'd originally gathered. This was no surprise, but he found it a bit much for them to have crowded around her like that. If she couldn't manage being alone, Max doubted that she would've sat alone at that table with and without him for as long as she did. But again, there still had to be things he didn't know, so the situation easily fell from his concern. It'd be a lie to say he wasn't a little curious, but again, it really wasn't his business. Something else from the man's words were nagging at his thoughts, anyways... Was that really what their impression on him had been? That he'd been scared off by some guy who barely did as much as look at him and another who seemed to be a drunken flirt? Okay, yeah, he's pretty much wearing all women's clothing right now and may have an anxiety disorder, but he's not... He didn't walk off because of them. Had his upset really been that blatant?


A frown tugged at his lips as he tied the robe around his thin waist and went about walking down the hall, heels clicking against the tile with each step. Forcing that appearance of confidence of his, Max made his way to the bar towards James' section. He could see the worried glance that had been thrown his way, and the questioning eyes of what happened? to which Max would give a slight shake of his head before turning towards a stranger to attempt to earn himself a drink.




The following days were uneventful for Max as per usual. Not much of his attention drifted towards the girl he'd met after that first night, and he thought of her just as much as he did anyone else he met in the club, which was very occasional at best. To him the people that he met at Rialto were superficial. The relationships made there weren't important. It's not like the people he met saw him for who he was. No, Maxwell was very well aware of what catches their attention, and it was nothing that he'd indulge in past a short conversation of flirting. It wasn't anything that meant something, and anyone would be stupid to think that they'd actually end up in a relationship with him that surpassed the simple set up of buying drinks for flirting if a phone number wasn't exchanged. Take into account the fact that Max doesn't have a cellphone, and well... Unlucky you if you were hopeful. It sounded harsh, but it was the truth.


Maxwell had a busy weekend. His Saturday morning was spent learning and coming up with new choreography in the studio he and the other dancers practiced in. In the afternoon he had to work at the repair shop one of his friends owned. After his shift ended he only had time for a shower before he had to leave for Rialto. Saturday nights were always the busiest, and he and James only ended up getting home around three in the morning. The same routine followed for Sunday save for going to Rialto. The club was closed on Sundays, and so he fit in another practice in the studio alone. By the time Monday came around, he was exhausted to say the least.


Much to his dismay, he was called into work early. Coloring of exhaustion was apparent under his eyes, but he went nonetheless. It's not like he could turn down the money. Living wasn't cheap and being on a low income didn't help his case whatsoever. So no matter how much he felt and looked like shit, he showed up. He had a five hour shift before he was able to go back home to which he showered and immediately after fell to his bed for a nap. Having slept for most of the day, of course James would want him to go into town with him once he awoke.


With the busy weekend, the two had barely had any time to really hang out with each other. Sure, they were constantly near the other, but still. Their afternoons were both free, and they didn't have to work at Rialto tonight. Mondays were always slow, and so half of the workers weren't required to show up. Today just so happened to be the week that they don't have go.


Anyways, with that being said Max drug himself out of the house after a glass of tea. Sleep still lingered on his appearance, but he accompanied James and another friend, Elise, who was driving to wherever they were planning on going. Max didn't know; he fell asleep during the car ride as the two others had discussed the matter. Vehicles just did that to him. They either made him nervous or put him to sleep, and well, today just so happened to be the latter.


He awoke to the sound of the car's engine shutting off--he's always been an incredibly light sleeper--and found that they were at... An art walk? Huh. That wasn't very surprising. Elise had been talking about it all week to James. She seemed to be the only one out of the three that was excited about it, but then again, the girl was excitable about pretty much anything. She was James' ex-girlfriend and looked just about the exact opposite of him. She was a foot shorter than James with her stature of 5'1" with tan skin, a square face, blue eyes, and blonde hair. It was beyond Max how the two are still friends after all that had happened between them, but it wasn't something he was going to complain about. Over the years, Elise had become a good friend.


"Max, you can't just sleep all day!" She fussed loudly, but it was a bit hard to take her seriously with the way she had a high pitched voice and that type of demeanor that you couldn't possibly be intimidated by. In response Max simply turned his head more into the jacket he was using as a makeshift pillow, kept his eyes closed, and offered his middle finger. Don't get him wrong, he was totally being difficult just to mess with Elise. It was all too easy to do so with her as you could probably tell with her response of, "Uuuugh, Maaaxxxx. Why did you even come with us! Get out of my truck!" Actually, he couldn't even tell if she was being serious or not. She was one of those people who were over dramatic just to mess with people as well. huh. Either way, the exchange was still entertaining to him even if a smile wasn't crossing his face.


He could hear her unbuckle her seat belt and close her door, and with James already standing outside, silence fell. It was then that he finally glanced up to see if he actually managed to bother her, and suddenly the support of the door he'd been leaning against disappeared. Max fell half way out of the car with a quiet yelp, catching himself with his hands put against the cement as his hair hung away from his face. He was stuck with half of his weight on the seat of the car, and his hands on the ground. Looking up he saw little Elise looking a lot taller from the viewpoint of the ground with a wide smile.


"Holy shit." Max said after a short silence, a crooked smile appearing on his face as Elise fell into a fit of laughter. That was just another thing about her; she laughed a lot and very easily at that. "Hey, I'm actually stuck. Help me out." He said pathetically yet still with a smile on his face as he tried to move to where he wouldn't have to actually fall to able to get back up. Her vehicle was high off of the ground with it being a truck, so there really was no way to muscle himself out of this. It was beginning to look like having the rest of him land on the cement was the only way to go with Elise's response being more laughter as she cried, "I can't! Oh my god, Max, you should see yourself. You look so--" She couldn't finish her sentence. Max couldn't decide who needed help more.


With a pleading look towards James, Max saw the clear look of amusement on his face as he'd shrugged. "Fuck you guys. Really, fuck both of you." Maxwell said, feigning aggravation as he hesitated seconds before twisting to the side in one last attempt to pull himself up and instead succeeded in falling with a wince. Through his laughter, James offered a hand to help him up, prompting the complaint of "Oh, so now you help," despite the way he accepted the assistance.


"Don't get pissy with me. You kind of had that coming." James replied, still smirking with amusement as Max dusted himself off before the three finally left Elise's truck. The situation might have seemed a bit odd to someone outside of the group, but really, the whole thing was just lighthearted fun. No one was actually offended or bothered, except for maybe the bruise Max might have end up having, but the fact still stands.


The afternoon was late, so the summer weather wasn't as warm as it was earlier in the day. Even so, the temperature was still up. Elise wore a loose fitting linen tank top, light-wash denim shorts that covered half of her thighs, and a pair of lavender Keds. James wore nothing special with just a pair of jeans and an old t-shirt, and the same went for Max. Not wanting eyes on the scars marring his arms as always, this led to him wearing a thin long sleeved navy shirt along with a pair of torn up jeans with sweatpants underneath. Being more cold-natured, the heat of the summer didn't bother Max much at all. This was perfect weather to him, actually. The temperature of seventy degrees was nothing in comparison to the hundred degree summers he grew up with in Texas.


To say the least Max's appearance outside of Rialto was just about a one-eighty. He'd gone from something near drag queen status to a grunge looking boy. The thought of his occupation probably wouldn't even cross your mind if you didn't have a hint. With the absence of makeup and dark lighting, the multitude of freckles that covered his skin were visible as well as the marks of exhaustion found in the darker tones under his eyes. His hair wasn't brushed and was clearly a mess made from his earlier sleep. His physique was hidden under over sized clothing that wasn't complementing to his form at all. If anything, his clothes only made him look skinnier than he already was despite the reasoning behind him wearing bigger sizes being to avoid exactly that. And to top all of this off, he was three inches shorter without the heels with his real height of 5'11". But hey, despite all of the natural flaws of himself, at least he doesn't look remotely as feminine as before, which was definitely something he preferred. If it were up to him, Max wouldn't go through dressing himself similar to a woman just to work at Rialto, but hey, the job pays.

 

[Krisi]

The weekend went by very slowly for Trina Clark. Saturday she woke up early enough to get home and see her mother and Brent. As she walked through the door it was obvious that the two were still sleeping so Trina moved as quietly as possible and took a quick shower. Once she emerged from the shower wearing one of those little pull-on romper towels one could get from Walmart she’d find Brent standing just outside the door with a smirk on his face. If he was awake hopefully her mom would be too so he couldn’t mess with her head. Trina had to help Zack with his art-walk project and didn’t have time for Brent today. In an attempt to maneuver down the hallway without causing any form of physical contact Trina would lower her head and begin walking down the hall with her body basically hugging the wall.


“You know you’ll always be just a slut sleeping around like this” his hand would press against the wall right in front of her face as Brent leaned down to whisper in her ear “but honestly what guy would want to put time and effort into you.” Brent’s nose would skim across her cheek as he pulled away and looked at her with a satisfied smirk.


The tears were so close to falling and even though Trina knew he was wrong she couldn’t argue with him. Lifting her head she’d bite her bottom lip without think and push her hand against his arm to get him to move. Her mother would be up soon and then she’d be all over Brent, letting him not have time to screw around with her. Brent’s hand would move and a surprised look would fly across his features.


“Well someone is feisty this morning, you don’t like my games dear?” he’d say as his free hand grabbed her wrist and pressed her against the wall. There was still a foot between the two but the pressure around her wrist made the tears fall. “Know your place and quit giving your mother nightmares over how hopeless you are.”


He’d let her go and move down the hallway into the kitchen calling out “Hey mouse what do you want for breakfast.” Mouse. She hated that nickname. He’d started calling her that when she was seven because of her weight, height, the way she never made a sound unless he tripped her.


Making a bee line for her bedroom door at the end of the hallway she’d close it behind her and burry her face into her pillows. Why did his words hurt her so badly? By the time she got ready she’d have just enough time to drive to work and that was pretty uneventful. Working the night shift on the weekends always made for the drunken idiots and kids with nothing else better to do then hangout outside the gas station down the street. Trina liked having the little teens there though, it made her feel a little less alone. It wasn’t like she talked to them though, she did let them get free refills on their sodas though.


Trina would arrive home at about midnight and fall asleep in her bed quickly. Sunday would be a basic repeat of Saturday except she spent a lot more time on Zack’s project for Monday. She’d work from 6pm to 2 am with just one other attendant and spend most of her dead time sewing together the large piece of white fabric for Zack's background.


Monday morning she’d go straight home and get a couple hours of sleep before meeting at Kara’s and packing up their project stuff. They’d need to be to their spot early to set up. Trina took time to straighten her hair and fix her bangs after getting dressed in her usual attire.

In clothes like these Trina really wouldn’t stick out in a crowd whether she was alone or not. She work tight blue jeans with no patterns or sparkles on them, a tank top with tiny red and white stripes on it, and a green denim half jacket because she liked to stay covered up unless it was very hot. The seventies weren’t hot or cold for her so this day would work out nicely. On her feet she’d have green flats that somehow went very well with her jacket. On her wrist was the hair tie she had been given by Max from the bar Rialto.​

The boy hadn’t really crossed her mind much that weekend she had just been very curious about what had caused him to stutter and change from the guy he was when they had been alone. Trina hadn’t really said anything to her friends about it at all after they had left but for some reason Zack carried on about how his gaydar had been off and Trina actually had decent taste in men. One arching of her left brow would quiet him though and he never brought Max up again either. Besides, Trina had no plans of returning to Rialto. Zack and Kara had gone back Saturday night but there was not really any out of the usual stories, the two went there most of the time.


As the group arrived to their section at art walk Ryan would already be there and setting up clear painter's tarps along the grass and had two tables ready to be filled with supplies. Ryan would help unload Trina's jeep and Kara's beetle as Zack went around being the queen of control he was. He'd flick his wrist and point at something to be moved a little higher and others to be moved a little lower. Trina wore a little smile because Zack always made her happy, the way he demanded attention and went to the beat of his own drum was remarkable. and she wasn't talking about the fact that he was homosexual. It was his passion and freedom to do whatever and go wherever he wanted he literally believed the sky was the limit. She'd finally bring out her large section of white fabric and help Ryan hang it up, which consisted of her climbing on a step stool and helping get the fabric to hang from two posits stuck into the ground at about seven feet in height. Kara would move along front of the exhibit and place a colorful sign that read "everyone is art" in funky lettering and had a bunch of splatters on it.


As people would being arriving Trina spread a blanket out on the grass and would lay on her stomach opening a book titled "EON" it was a young readers book but always Trina's favorite. She loved dragons and medieval things like that. She'd be pulled from her pages as the on lookers began to shout and cat call at what she was sure to be a half naked Zack and minimal dressed Kara standing in front of the white backdrop. They said no words and only wore smiles as the two turned to the table on their side of the display and pulled out a colored paint brush. Kara's tank white tanktop quickly turned loud with color as Zack's face was gently stroked with a paintbrush. The two would continue on painting silly designs on one another and then after they got bored with that each woul grab a small paint can and just dump it on one another. After each was covered from head to toe they would take turns posing as if they were priceless statues on display in Paris.


Trina couldn't help but grin at the giant mess they had made and would soon find herself back into her fantasy world.

Spoiler

 

[gabrielle]

With James' comment of telling Max not to get upset, it didn't take long at all until the two were arguing with each other like they always seem to do, pulling stares from people close enough to hear their bad language. You'd think that the two absolutely loathed each other with the way they hold conversations, but that's the exact opposite of how things are. In a way they're like brothers, arguing out of affection. They were both ignored by Elise for the most part up until they started being civil with each other.


The group chatted among themselves as they walked, stopping by certain displays here and there. Eventually they came across one that sold jewelry beside a different group that seemed to be... splattering paint onto each other? Well. That was new to him. Kudos for the creativity. He couldn't help but think of what a bitch it'll be to clean that up, but hey, at least they seemed to be enjoying themselves.


"Hey Max, what do you think about buying this for me?" Elise's light voice caught Max from his distraction; jewelry obviously didn't interest him nor James with the way they had each seemed to space out before that moment. Turning his attention towards her, he saw the girl holding up a bracelet with a mischievous look on her face, and it was then that Max knew he was about to be the end of another one of her jokes. He didn't know what, but he knew something was about to be said. In his attempts to avoid it, he tried to keep his reply as short as possible with a simple "No." That way she has less to work with, yeah? But of course she wasn't about to drop this.


"Aw, come on. We can split the price." She said lightheartedly with a widening smile on her face. "My birthday is coming up soon." She raised her eyebrows a few times for emphasis, and dammit, Elise, he didn't have the money for this.


"Why don't you ask James? He's the one with a huge ass crush on you." As soon as the words were spoken Max knew what was coming, and his hands went out to catch himself. James had immediately pushed Max's shoulder, resulting in him falling for the second time today. Max landed roughly on the ground, catching the attention of those around him in concern despite the wide smile that crossed his face. It really was way too amusing and too easy for each of them to bother one or the other.


"Because he doesn't, and I figured you be more willing to buy it because we'd be able to share it." She was silent for a moment acting as if she'd been serious before she'd lost her facade with another bout of laughter.


"Fuck you, Elise." Max said seriously as he sat up and pulled out his wallet from his pocket, handing her enough money to pay for the whole thing. With that he stood, putting away his wallet as he dusted off the grass from his pants. Looking towards James, his lips parted to say some remark towards him, but James ended up flipping him off. It did keep Max quiet, but it pulled a smirk across his expression once more.


"You're sending me mixed signals, Max." Elise said jokingly as she walked beside him, hooking her arm around his in a gesture Max knew to think nothing of. The girl was incredibly affectionate, and majority of the time she was joking about it such as now. It has certainly caused some misunderstandings in the past, but it's nothing that really bothers either of the boys.


"If I were you, I'd be saying thank you right around now." He replied. "You better not tell me that I didn't get you anything once your birthday does come by."


"You didn't let me finish talking. I was going to say thanks anyways. And if I were you, I'd be treating a girl so much more nicely. You really are a jerk, Max." She said contently, pulling him to a stop once she'd noticed he had the intentions of passing the display of paint he'd looked towards earlier.


"Oh dearest Elise, I do beg your pardon." He smirked, speaking through a dramatic tone of voice just for affect.


"Yeah, well, you better. Don't do it again." She spoke with a smile on her face as well, dropping her arm from Max's to dust off the remaining grass from his back before handing her shopping bags to him and turning to speak to those covered in paint.


"I see why you broke up with her." He said towards James, holding up the shopping bags that had been forced onto him.


"No, she never did any of that shit to me. She's fuckin' messing with you. She picked up the most expensive bracelet there to see how much of a pushover you are." <p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_05/968full-joe-anderson.jpg.12fe0d636f56ad739209d677fc96573f.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="54420" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_05/968full-joe-anderson.jpg.12fe0d636f56ad739209d677fc96573f.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p> James replied as he stretched, his joking manner beginning to drift off.


"You're kidding." Max replied in disbelief and with one look towards James, he knew he wasn't. Even so, Max pulled out the receipt that was in the bag and read over it. Then came the realization that there was no change in the bag, and it wasn't anything close to five dollars like he'd assumed."Wow." Max seemed to be at a loss of words, and his reaction pulled a short laugh from James.


"Now I think you know why I broke up with her." It really wasn't, and both of them knew this. After a short silence he shrugged, saying, "She'll pay you back. You know Elise. She has too much money for her own good."


"Yeah," Max agreed, realizing that it hadn't been the comment about sharing jewelry that had been the joke. It was getting him to buy the most expensive thing whenever Elise has always messed with him about the way he avoids spending money so often. Huh. Nice one, Elise.


The two fell to a silence, and Max looked away from James. He glanced around momentarily--he just had a habit of that; blame anxiety--and came across the girl he recognized as Trina. He'd looked towards her for a moment to search for her name and luckily remembered it. James had walked over to Elise, and being he now stood alone, Max approached her.


"Hey, Trina." He said easily in comparison to how he'd last spoken to her. Ah, he felt bad for leaving so abruptly as he had, but it was something that just couldn't be helped. "I didn't think I'd see you around. You're into art too?" He asked as he remember speaking of music before, reaching for something to start a conversation with her. An apology was nearly on his lips for his behavior at Rialto, but that wasn't something he was going to allow himself to bring up.

 

[Krisi]

The pages of her book would be turned consistently despite the laughter and chitter-chatter going on around her. Trina was the only human being that could be so at peace in the center of loud artists. Still lying on her stomach with her knees bent backwards so that she swing her feet in the air Trina was lost in her story. Her hazel eyes sparkled and a smile formed on her bare lips as she read about the Dragoneye choosing ceremony.


“Hey, Trina” well that was a new voice. Lying her book down she’d look up to see the dancer from the bar looking down at her. Wait he looked so different, not as put together as he had been at the bar. Of course he had been working, and who was Trina to assume people always looked like they did at work.


“Max, hi” she’d smile up at him, propping her hands under her chin while resting on her elbows. It had been several days since she saw him but that messy hair stood out to her causing her to think about his hair tie still on her wrist. As he continued on speaking she felt rather odd laying down while he was standing so she’d place her hands against the blanket and push herself up to her feet. Quickly running her hands through her hair she’d smile up at him, relieved that he was shorter than he had bene in heels.


“Same here, and yeah… all of us are” she’d turn her head as if to gesture to the painted forms of Zack and Kara. “I just don’t perform like them” she’d turn her head back to Max and meet his eyes only for a moment. She was more of a ‘behind the scenes’ type girl.


As her hazel eyes lowered to the ground she’d take in his rugged appearance and begin to shift her weight from one foot to the other. Her right arm would move to hold her left elbow just as before at Rialto. How odd was it that she had run into him again at the art walk? Trina and her friends were here all of the time, considering the art walk only happened once a month. However she’d never seen him at any of the other art things they did either. The group could always be found at little hole in the wall poetry houses, art galleries (just not the expensive nice ones), and theatre coffee houses.


Trina could hear Zack and Kara laughing and carrying on conversations with strangers so easily. How was it she was not able too. Moving her hands to hold onto the bottom of her jacket she’d pull it tighter around her as if she was cold. Her highlighted hair would fall over her shoulders and she starred at her toes for a few moments while trying to think of something to say. She didn’t want to bring up how he had left so quickly the other night because they weren’t friends and it wasn’t like it had been any of her business. Apparently she hadn’t upset him or he wouldn’t have been talking to her now. Right?


“Have you gotten to see everything yet?” her head would lift up so that her eyes could look just around his shoulders. Trina planned to walk around a little afterwards when she went to grab a snack. She was curious how long Max had been here and if he had saw anything that was interesting or fun. Trina still couldn’t get over how different he looked, which may have been the same for Max. Trina had been all dolled up, thanks to Kara, wearing makeup and a revealing top. Now her attire was street-easy at best and did a good job at hiding her curves.


This was good. Trina was in a conversation with someone she didn’t know much about and it seemed that this person had remembered her. She couldn’t have made that bad of an impression on him. There was hope out there for Trina Clark. Well maybe it was only a sliver of hope and it had taken years for this to happen, however it could have all just been Max. She had never really met someone like him before. Rialto was not her first time in a bar by any means but usually the only guys that would ever approach her used cheesy pickup lines and couldn’t comprehend the words ‘not interested.’ Max was the only one that seemed to act normal and just talk to her without a hidden agenda.


The thought entered her mind quickly and she’d dismiss it even faster. She was thinking about Max as if they were friends. She didn’t know him, and he most certainly did not know her. Trina’s face would don a small frown as she thought about the truth. Max was nice and all and interesting to talk too but was that reason enough for Trina to let put herself out there to risk being hurt? Who needed more than what she had? Weren’t Zack, Kara, and Ryan enough? Food for thought she could contemplate later that evening in her journal.


However for the moment Max was here and something inside of her had lifted. It would be rude to walk away or even turn him away so Trina would do her best to not let her nerves get to her.

 

[gabrielle]

As she regarded him with a smile, the corner of his mouth upturned in a slight smirk. Being he wasn't at Rialto, he felt no need to force big, happy smiles for her like he had last time. The whole reasoning behind him faking smiles at Rialto was due to complaints that he just didn't seem happy. Whenever the problem had been addressed, you wouldn't believe how badly Max had wanted to roll his eyes. Of course he didn't seem happy. It was because he hadn't been! Luckily, that was a thing of the past for the most part. Sure, some mornings were rougher than others, but these days he was much easier to be around. Take it to comparison to the days he'd spend ruled by aggravation and more, and you'd agree if you don't already. It was only a matter of time before things were bad for him again, but he'd enjoy the worry-free times of today for now.


"Same here, and yeah… all of us are. I just don’t perform like them.” Max acknowledged her words with a nod. He saw the throwing of paint to just be an act of creating a mess rather than a performance, but he didn't comment on the matter. He supposed he could look at the display in a different way as the art it was supposed to be seen as, but the part of him that demanded neatness wouldn't allow him. He could understand the point of it; he just couldn't look at it and not think of how difficult it'll be to get that out of their hair. Oh well, that wasn't his issue to deal with.


Anyways, seeing her arm cross to take hold of the other, Max didn't think much of it having seen her do it once already. To him nothing seemed to be wrong, and he wasn't about to ask if there was after all. So as far as he's concerned, it was just a habit. He'll see come to learn that it's not if that's the case if it really was important for him to know.


"Have you gotten to see everything yet?" Once her question had come to sound Max shook his head in reply, moving his free hand to his pocket out of habit.


"No, we only got here not too long ago. We were supposed to get here earlier, but I uh, I had kind of fallen asleep." Max said with a shrug. "I don't see why they didn't leave without me, but you know." He said as he glanced towards Elise and James. She probably didn't know what he was talking about, but he didn't comment on the matter any further. His use of you know was just a filler phrase he tended to use far too often, but hey, he wasn't complaining. He'd much rather this over the stuttering any day.


"I honestly didn't even know we had an art walk." He said a bit sheepishly. "Did you make anything here?" He asked, glancing away from his friends and back to Trina. Max just wasn't the type to avoid looking at the person he was talking to unlike Trina. Yes, he did notice the way she'd often avoid looking towards him, but it really didn't bother him. Maybe he was the weird one for always searching for eye contact. Who knows. He didn't care. Was that bad?


In contrast to Trina's own thoughts, Max wasn't surprised by the other's appearance. To him she looked exactly the same, just without makeup. Hell, he wasn't even one to notice makeup all that much either, so there's that as well. And yeah, her clothes were different, but they were decent. Max knows that the way people dress in clubs is typically completely different from how they dress on a daily basis. Just take himself for example! Who would think that he walks around all the time with stilettos, makeup, and painfully revealing clothing? Quite frankly, Max wasn't at all a fan of revealing clothing for himself, and it showed in the bagginess of his clothes more suited for winter.

 

[Krisi]

Trina listened as he explained that his friends had brought him here and were later because of him sleeping in. She’d grin shyly and shrug her shoulders because she really didn’t know. Her hazel eyes would look back at her flats as her voice spoke “they’re your friends, they wanted to have fun with you” her hand would move to tuck her thick hair behind her ear.


“Well the group only meets once a moth so…” her voice would trail off and she’d nod her head as if to answer his other question. “Yea… some… uh little clay figures” she’d bite her bottom lip as she looked over to the table where Ryan was standing. Trina liked to make little figures out of clay, they were anywhere from shoes to kittens to letters. When she got bored she’d just roll out some clay and make whatever happy thoughts flowed into her mind and then paint them later. She sold them for like two dollars each and never really got into it for the money.


Her eyes would move to meet his now. Blinking a few times she’d tilt her head to the side and take a deep breath “I hope you guys have a good time” it was the best she could do and honestly she was not really sure what to say to him. “there are usually street performers..” it was a last minute attempt at remembering his interests of music. Of course everyone likes music but she at least made an effort. Her inner conscience was practically having heart failure that she was trying to keep this guy in a conversation with her. As she noticed how intense his eyes were when staying focused on her she’d finally give in and begin to look at her nailbeds. Of course her fingers weren’t painted and hardly manicured but it seemed easier then have someone staring right at you, the problem with the was she could feel it now. All of her insecurities were there. Or at least she felt like they were even though all her issues were mental and not physical.

 

[gabrielle]

"There are usually street performers." Well, this was news to him. Quite frankly, the art show had seemed like a pretty boring place to him if it were just going to consist of displays of paintings and sculptures that he couldn't bring himself to pay much mind to. By all means he liked art; he pretty much had a hobby for everything relating to the subject. Drawing, dancing, singing, poetry, playing piano... All of his free time seemed to revolve around the arts. The thing is, he just didn't like looking at other people's art however self-centered that may seem. It's one of those things that he'd have to be in the mood for. Now, for people he knew it was a bit different, but still. As for listening to music or watching others perform, now that is what caught his attention.


"Oh, that sounds awesome." He said with a bit of enthusiasm sounding in his voice and a slight upturn of his lips. "It'd be cool to go and check that out. Elise seems pretty interested in stopping and talking to everyone she can though, so I don't know if I'll end up having the chance." He continued, looking away from her once more and back to Elise having heard his name be called.


"Max!" She'd started, standing on her toes as if that'd make much of a difference on her 5'1" stature. "Come look at these, they're absolutely adorable!" This girl really was way too enthusiastic for her own good. She was at a table of clay sculptures that Max only just now made the connection to Trina with the way she'd looked towards it on top of the fact that the guy he'd recognized from Rialto was there. He couldn't recall his name, but he was pretty sure that it was the same person. Wanting to avoid him, Max didn't approach Elise and instead stayed beside Trina.


"You took all of my money, Elise! Don't ask me to buy you one of those!" He called back to her with the slightest hint of aggravation to his demeanor. Really, it wasn't something that was too prominent, but it was there if you were looking.


"Did I really?" Her smile was wide, and it was then that Max knew that James hadn't been joking earlier. It was that mischievous type of smile--a smile that could have boys falling for such a pretty girl as her, but also foreshadow the worst of things. Max saw the latter. Seconds after she'd spoken she was turning her attention away and walking towards the two with James trailing behind her.


"I thought strippers like you raked in ton of cash, Maxie." She teased, a light smirk still lingering on her features.


"I'm not a stripper, Elise." Max huffed, letting her take the shopping bags away from him.


"But you do dance on a pole pretty damn well." She hummed as she stood to her toes once more, dropping back to her heels within seconds. This was just a habit of hers, and it was one for a reason that Max couldn't find. Maybe he'd have to ask her someday.


"Thanks, but that doesn't mean I strip." These conversations were pretty amusing for the both of them to take part in to say the least.


"Yeah, but have you seen the clothes you wear sometimes." She replied, copy-catting his way of putting emphasis on a word. "It's like, I go to your house wondering if I'm about to walk in just to see all of those freckles or not."


"You're getting me confused with James." James does in fact have a habit of dressing with minimal clothing while at home. It's as if the guy lives by the philosophy that if you're at home without guests, pants are very unnecessary. The two are probably the worst roommates for each other with Max's tendency to feel cold, and James' opposite of always feeling warm.


"Don't you fuckin' bring me into this." James finally spoke up, his strong English accent contrasting harshly against the American voices of the group. A lighthearted argument with Max quickly followed as Elise seemed to lose interest in them and notice Trina.


"Hello!" She spoke to her with a pleasant smile, changing her whole demeanor of clearly trying to bother Max to something much more friendly and open. Elise was just the type of person that people seemed to have ease talking to. Intimidation was never something she was able to succeed in, and really, she's the last person you'd expect malice from with her short stature, rosy cheeks, curly blonde hair, doll-like eyes, a near perpetual smile, and light voice.


"Sorry for interrupting you two." She suddenly seemed embarrassed, turning slightly to look over her shoulder to see the two boys bickering back and forth with each other just for the entertainment of it. "I'm Elise." Her sheepish demeanor seemed to be forgotten in that moment as she looked once more towards Trina. "Are you a friend of Max? Wait, no. Don't answer that. Obviously you are if the two of you were talking." She cut herself off, putting a hand over her eyes almost as if she didn't want to be seen out of her feeling of stupidity. Of course it was taken away seconds later as she looked back towards Trina, catching that same familiarity with Gracie as Max had seen nights before. Luckily enough, she'd never have the same reaction of anxiety as Max did.


"Elise, we're going get something to eat. You're staying here?" Well. That didn't take long for the two to stop arguing then again this was just how things usually were with them. Standing next to James, Max seemed to suddenly look smaller. James was strong, and it showed a lot more than it did on Max. He was taller too, by about two inches. It made Max look shorter and a lot thinner. He looked almost like a boy due to his blonde hair despite his desperate need to shave in comparison to James. This was something that Max was well aware of to which James was completely oblivious to.


"Ugh," She started dramatically--this was just another part of her eccentric personality. "I'm talking to someone, wait for me."


"There is no waiting, Elise. We're starving." Max mirrored Elise's dramatic acting with a smirk. He looked towards Trina once more. It wasn't that he'd forgotten about her so easily despite the way it might have seemed, no. He'd simply just gotten distracted, yeah? This was just how Max was as disheartening as it was to some people. He was painfully easy to distract and forget about conversations he'd been in the middle of having, but hey, at least he didn't do that today with Trina. Kind of. To hell if he almost did. Those are just irrelevant, little details. Shush you.


"Come with us if you haven't eaten, Trina." He said as he nodded to the direction that they were headed. Max just had a habit of not asking such as now. It was a behavior that could sometimes come off as strong and maybe even aggressive in some cases, but none of which matched up to his intentions. To him it was an offer and not the order it sounded like. This was something those who knew him were as accustomed to as they were to James' vulgarity; therefore, no polite corrections of you don't just order people around like that! You ask her, you jerk! were made.