In classic Max fashion, she's tried to map it all out-- tried to figure out the days, times, the spaces in between the moments when holding hands stopped being just holding hands, and when the feeling of Chloe's breath on her skin stopped being to complain about and became something that made her feel things that all those shitty health class videos about puberty warned her about.

And also, in classic Max fashion, the entire thing had been an oddly fulfilling mess of trial and error. She's not good at jumping in head first and landing on her feet the way Chloe is; but she likes where they are, likes the way Chloe's arms feel around her.

"One day, Price." Max cranes her head to kiss Chloe in between her words. When she pulls away, but just barely. "One day, you're gonna run out of prime Arcadia Bay real estate to trash. And then you'll have to figure out where to take me on an actual date."

She presses herself close to Chloe, still. She's not quite kissing her, but the space between their faces is barely there.

"For the record? I'm partial to long walks on the beach, art museums, and gut busting greasy food."