Bite Marks & Polaroids

Eyes Closed

Description

As rain pounds outside, Chloe and Max confront their tumultuous past in a charged moment. Chloe's anxiety wars with her desire, while Max's surrender ignites a raw, desperate reunion. Can they rewrite their history, or will their passion burn them again?

Story

The rain hammered against the windowpane, a rhythmic relentless drumming that sealed the rest of the world away from the motel room.

Inside, the air was thick, heavy with the scent of jasmine and musk drifting from the flickering candle on the nightstand. The monitor glow cast long, dancing shadows across the walls, illuminating the dust motes suspended in the stagnant heat.

Chloe Price sat on the edge of the queen bed, her fingers picking anxiously at the chipped black polish on her thumbnail. The jagged edges bit into her cuticle, a sharp, grounding pain amidst the chaos in her head. She glanced at her covered tattoo, the blackness a permanent reminder of the person she was before.

Maxine Caulfield lay beside her, eyes closed, her chest rising and falling in a slow, hypnotic cadence. She looked so peaceful, so fragile in her oversized t-shirt and worn  jeans, that she felt a sudden violent urge to protect her.

She was also very aware that she was the very thing Max needed protection from. The lyrics from the song playing low on the laptop speakers curled through the humid air, wrapping around them like smoke.

The past can't hurt us if we don't look

Let's let it go, better if we fall in love with our eyes closed

The words burrowed under Chloe's skin, itching and raw. It was a touchy subject they'd danced around, the elephant in the room that had been trampling the flowers for months.

She shifted, the mattress springs groaning under her weight. She reached out, her hand hovering over Max's arm, trembling slightly. They shouldn't work, the history was proof. Every shout, every slammed door, every silent tearful night in the past screamed that they were a disaster waiting to happen.

But looking at Max now, they way a stray lock of hair fell over her forehead, the way her lips parted slightly in sleep, she couldn't make herself care about the logic.

Her fingers finally made contact, brushing the soft fabric of Max's shirt. The heat radiating from her skin was instant, electric, shocking Chloe's system like a live wire.

Max's breathing hitched, a stutter in the rhythm, but she didn't pull away. Her eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused, before locking on to her Chloe's.

The bluish-green of her hair seemed to glow in the dim light, a stark contrast to the shadows. Neither of them spoke. There was nothing left to stay that hadn't already been argued into the ground.

Instead, Max turned her hand over, palm up, an invitation, a surrender. Chloe intertwined their fingers, squeezing tight, feeling the bones grind together. It was a desperate grip, the kind that promised to never let go even if the ship was sinking.

"Chloe," Max whispered, her name barely audible over the rain.

Her voice was rough, stripped of its usual caution.

"Don't," she cut her off, her voice cracking.

She leaned down, her face inches from Max's, the smell of her一 rainwater, vanilla, and something uniquely Max一flooding her senses.

"Just don't. I know. Our history is proof."

Max sat up, the duvet sliding down to pool in her lap. She reached out with her free hand, fingers tracing the line of Chloe's jaw.