Maxwell Butler, Nice Guy

Jenny does not seem particularly excited by the scene before her. "Seriously? This is...such a boring idea."

Isabelle shakes her head in mock derision as she puts the finishing touches on the table for her fundraiser. "Well gee, I'm sorry that raising money for the homeless isn't exciting enough. Should I ask Ms. Hayden if we could host a charity orgy instead?"

"You said it, not me."

Isabelle sticks her tongue out at the Asian girl as you plop down into the chair behind the table. "Well I think it's a great idea, Isabelle. We can boost our power, do some good and avoid that annoying post-orgy clean-up? Talk about a triple threat."

Jenny gives a dramatic sigh, folding her arms in such a way as to squish even more almond-toned cleavage out of the neck of her polo. Jesus, that's become a trademark Jennifer Park move pretty darn quick, and she hasn't even had them for very long. She might not even realize she's doing it anymore. It's for the best that she isn't in your weight class when it comes to the Tit Rankings, because the girl clearly wouldn't be able to use a rack like yours responsibly. Sure, your short sleeved roll-neck sweater is pretty damn snug, deliciously conforming to both your enormous boobs and toned tummy, but it shows zero cleavage and your bra isn't even visible through it. By your usual standards, you're being demure as fuck. "Well, who's going to even run it?"

"That part was easy. The track team, obviously."

"How is that obv,"--Jenny's eyebrows raise as she notices Ms. Hayden behind her desk, the librarian looking especially bright-eyed and bushy tailed today--"...right, of course. Mr. York."

Isabelle nods, looking rather like the cat that caught the canary. "Exactly. That man has got it good." She glances at the library's wall clock, suddenly frowning a little. "I don't think any of them will be here for an hour or so, and we have to get to practice."

You wave your hand dismissively, leaning back your chair. "I'll take the helm until they get here. I'm great at charity! Maybe the best at it."

"Uh-huh." Isabelle's eyebrow is cocked, but she's clearly amused. "Well be that as it may,"--she lightly kisses her fingers, then runs them down the length of the collection jar to leave behind a faint rainbow streak--"how about a little assist?"

You pout. "What, you think people won't see me and be all 'I need to impress that girl'?"

Isabelle and Jenny have already turned to head towards practice, though Isabelle keeps her warm grin locked on you as long as she can without walking into a wall or something. "Just try not to be too impressed, okay?"

Well, you guess you can try.

You have to admit, you're actually pretty impressed. Some of the students and teachers who've happily walked by and dropped money into the donation jar may have been doing it because they were drawn in by your matchless looks and compelling charm? But probably far less than you're going to decide to tell yourself. Isabelle's magical mark seems to be what's really doing the trick. More than once you've watched as someone who was about to walk by without giving the charity table a second glance suddenly paused, a look of vaguely befuddled contentment crossing their face as they doubled back to add their own contribution to the growing pile. You're quite certain it's not mind control, or even anything like it. Rather, it strikes you that Isabelle's magic appeals directly to the inner being, gently reminding them of their better angels.

God, she's such a good girl. You almost feel bad about the unspeakable things you want to do to her, and that just makes you want to do them even more. Isabelle speaks to your angels, sure, but she's also got a hotline directly to your horny little devils, too.

You're so deep in your lurid fantasies that you don't register the voice coming from your side until it's sounding quite put out. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Nope," you mumble dreamily, "not even a little."

The voice gives a deep huff. "You know, I said I wasn't mad at you, but now I think I actually am."

Huh? You finally glance over and are mildly displeased to discover that Max at some point slipped into the chair beside you, the boy brushing his floppy hair out of his face and looking rather hurt. "What are you talking about?"

"Come on, Ash. Don't even play it like that. Not with me."

"I for real have no idea what you are talking about."

"Oh, really." He folds his arm across his chest, giving you a reproachful look. "You totally bailed on me this weekend, you know. Band practice?"

Oh God, please don't let that mean that New Ash agreed to be part of Max's fucking phantasmagoria. You simply can't believe it. There is no way she'd have such bad taste. "...I mean, I don't really remember saying I'd do that."

Max pointedly looks away from you, mouth drawn tight. "Look, if you didn't want to come you should have just said so, Ash. It's not like I couldn't have found another bass player. It's just not cool to play games with people, you know?"

In spite of yourself, you feel a faint tug towards trying to smooth over the sulking boy. "Max, I don't even play bass. If you'd wanted someone to play keyboards or something--"

Max turns back to face you at that, eyebrow raised and a bit of a smirk on his face. "Keyboards? Ash, come on. I'm trying to reinvent 'goth' from the ground up, here. This is serious music. What real goth band uses the keyboards?" You have so little idea of how to respond to that that you can only blink at him for a moment, Max apparently taking that as being unable to answer. "Come on, can you even name one?"

"...uh, I don't know Max, how about fucking The Cure?

The boys gives a 'pssh'. "That's so obvious it doesn't even count. Plus, 'Friday I'm in Love'? Come on."

"Joy Division."

"So not goth."

"Alien Sex Fiend."

"Who? Ash, are you Googling your answers or something?"

Your eyes are starting to narrow. "Why don't you tell me what counts, then."

"So you're giving up?" Max airily shrugs. "It's a pretty nuanced issue, Ash; it might be a bit too hard to explain it for you. But a group like, say, Avenged Sevenfold would't use keyboards. Does that make it clearer?"

You can only throw up your hands in disbelief. "What? They aren't goth at all, they just dress in black and shit!"

Max throws up his hands defensively. "Whoa, calm down! Sheesh, I had no idea you were such a snob about this stuff, Ash."

You're so annoyed you don't even fully register the jab. "And I'm pretty sure they do use piano on some songs!"

The boy scoffs a little, giving you a bemused look. "Relax Ash, I'm just joking with you. All I was trying to say was that I forgive you. But this friendship can't keep being a one way street, okay?" You stare flatly at Max as he makes a show of whipping out his wallet, carefully removing a hundred dollar bill and letting it drop into the donation jar. "Anyways, there was other stuff I wanted to talk to you about, if you'd shown up. " The boy gives a forlorn sigh before turning back to you, what must be intended to be a brave smile on his face. "Leslie broke up with me."

Oh ho. You lean back in your chair, folding your arms under your chest in that classic Jennifer Park move. There. He probably thought it was subtle, but you don't miss for one second the way his eyes darted down to your tits. "Really? What happened?"

He sighs again, giving you a rueful shrug. "I have no idea, Ash. I just tried being a nice guy, you know? I gave her a lot of myself, and I guess she just couldn't appreciate it. I'm starting to think the right girl for me just isn't out there."

"Wow. That's rough. I actually saw her talking to David Wright the other day."

That must be new information to Max, because his expression of despondent bravery wavers. "What? Really?" You nod, and the boy all but hisses, eyes flaring in outrage. "That is so fucking typical. Girls like her only want Chad."

Whoa, Jesus. "Hey, I like David Wright. You do know we went on a couple dates, right?"

"What?!" He throws his hands out to you, face screwed up in disbelief. "Why?! He's a fucking jock."

You lean forward, letting your chair land upright with a 'thud' as you abruptly change the subject. "So hey, why are people saying that the two of us are going out?"

Now it's Max's turn to blink silently at you. "......Who said that?"

"Leslie, for one."

Max gives a sneer he probably intended to be more of a smirk. "Seriously? Ash, she just broke up with me; of course she's lying."

"Jenny Park, for another."

At that, Max rolls his eyes so hard that he actually rolls his head as well, a gesture that annoys you so deeply you can't even fully express it. "Ash, I know you think she's your friend? But Jenny Park is just trying to turn you against me. She's turning you into someone you're not!"

"I'm gonna need you explain that one to me, Max."

"I mean, isn't it obvious? She wants you to be another of her fucking lackeys, like your bimbo cousin." He indicates your clothes. "Look at the way she's got you dressed! Look at who she has you hanging out with! Christ Ash, she dragged you to goddamn Starbucks all weekend!"

You arch an eyebrow, expression cool. "How do you know where I went this weekend?"

Max stumbles for a moment at that, but quickly catches his footing. "I, it doesn't matter! Ash, you can be such a cool girl and Jenny Park and her pack of cheerleading hyenas are turning you into just another boring normie."

"Jennifer Park has been my friend for my whole life, Max."

The boy spreads his hands out in an apologetic gesture. "I know you think that, Ash. But she's using you. That's all someone like her can do. She could never understand you the way I do. I don't think anyone could."

You stare at Max for a moment, eyebrows crinkled as you bite your bottom lip. "...Really?"

Max nods empathically, hair flopping as his eyes gleam. "Yes, Ash. Absolutely really."

After another moment of nervous lip chewing, you slump your shoulders and sigh. "Okay."

Max perks up, an almost disbelieving smile starting to twitch across his face. "Yeah? Okay?"

You nod, extending an open hand out towards Max. "Can I borrow your phone?"

The boy quickly fumbles into his hoodie pocket, nearly dropping the device more than once in his haste to unlock it and hand it over. "What are you going to do? Are you going to call Jenny? Are you going to tell her off?!"

You let him squirm in his increasingly unbearable excitement as you tap through his phone, eventually tossing it back into his chest with a sweet smile. "There."

Max's grin doesn't seem ready to give up the ghost, though his eyes are certainly growing confused. "Huh?"

"I just deleted myself from your contacts list." You stand up, popping a hip to one side as you shoulder your bag. "I'll let you know if I decide you can have my number again."

"I don't understand." Max looks as if the carpet has been pulled out from under him as you slip out from behind the table, raising your hand to wave to the members of the track team that have begun filing into the room.

"Oh, I'm sure you do, nice guy. Thanks for the donation, though!" You pause long just long enough to beckon Mr. York over from where he's already making goo-goo eyes with Ms. Hayden and whisper to him. "Hey, make sure that one doesn't try to sneak some money out of the jar, okay?"

The track coach adjusts his glasses and frowns, sternly glaring at where Max has already started to try and make a play towards reclaiming his money. The boy lets out a squeak as the tall man and several of the track team members start towards him, abandoning both you and his hundred as he quickly scrambles out of the library. You don't miss the dark glance he saved for you, though.

Whatever. Max's brand of fuckboi-ery has been dealt with for the moment. You'll worry more about that when you're not dealing with actual real-deal magical danger.

For real though. Fuck that dude in the ear.