Blackwell's Favorite Girl

It doesn't take long to get to the junkyard, as usual. It helps that they know shortcuts atvthis point, especially thanks to Max growing up in town, even if she left for 5 years. She was always saying how the town barely changed anyways. Rachel sighs and hops onto the hood of an old car, lying down. Her hair spreads out in a circle behind her head, almost looking like a halo, and she rests her hands on her stomach, legs dangling off the hood, feet unable to reach the floor unless she stretches, but that's just fine with her.

Without thinking, Max is already reaching for her camera. Once Rachel had made it clear she didn't mind having her picture taken whenever, it's hard to not find reasons to photograph her all the time. If it didn't sound so creepy, Max would almost call her a muse. She goes from a few different angles, but the top down shot she got from climbing on top of the cab of the car is her favorite, she knows it before the picture is even done developing. Absentmindedly, she wonders how many pictures of Rachel she could hang in her room without looking like a total obsessed freak.

Rachel poses in ways she knows are tantalizing, throwing a couple winks at Max. Somehow, having Max take pictures of her like this is as good as when he does it. Better, in all honesty, but she can't say why.

Max blushes all the way down her neck, freckles even more stark against her skin. It's hard to remind herself that Rachel's just doing this for her portfolio, especially with those faces she's making.

If she wasn't sure Max was unfortunately, horrifyingly straight, Rachel would probably be flirting with Max right now.

It is, but it's never really interested me. It's not the stuff I like to capture in my work, at least. A lot of pretentious people could talk your ear off about how it's the highest form of praise and worship for a model, but that's always felt pretty weird to me. Sometimes it's done with taste, but it's still a strange line to walk. But anyways, considering we're currently in highschool, and stuff like that isn't covered until college, it's not super relevant. I'd like to consider myself a little better than some sleazy jock with nudes in his locker or something

Hey, whatever floats your boat. I'm not really ashamed of my body, and it's not like I'm 17 anymore.

Mmm, I snatched one of my Dad's good whiskey bottles and stashed it in the hideout. Could go for getting a little wasted after fighting with Chloe like that.

i don't want to drink, but don't let me stop you. I don't have a problem with it, hanging out sounds good.

Well, they put her on the basketball team around the same time.

Ah. She always has been unreasonably tall, she used to tease me about it. Sorry, I'll quit asking about her now

Mmm, define "a lot."

More than once a week?

Depends on how shitty said week has been.

Fair enough. I guess I'm just a little worried

I promise not to completely kill my kidneys. Or liver. Whatever dies from over drinking.

It doesn't take long to get to the junkyard, as usual. It helps that they know shortcuts atvthis point, especially thanks to Max growing up in town, even if she left for 5 years. She was always saying how the town barely changed anyways. Rachel sighs and hops onto the hood of an old car, lying down. Her hair spreads out in a circle behind her head, almost looking like a halo, and she rests her hands on her stomach, legs dangling off the hood, feet unable to reach the floor unless she stretches, but that's just fine with her.

Without thinking, Max is already reaching for her camera. Once Rachel had made it clear she didn't mind having her picture taken whenever, it's hard to not find reasons to photograph her all the time. If it didn't sound so creepy, Max would almost call her a muse. She goes from a few different angles, but the top down shot she got from climbing on top of the cab of the car is her favorite, she knows it before the picture is even done developing. Absentmindedly, she wonders how many pictures of Rachel she could hang in her room without looking like a total obsessed freak.

Rachel poses in ways she knows are tantalizing, throwing a couple winks at Max. Somehow, having Max take pictures of her like this is as good as when he does it. Better, in all honesty, but she can't say why.

Max blushes all the way down her neck, freckles even more stark against her skin. It's hard to remind herself that Rachel's just doing this for her portfolio, especially with those faces she's making.

If she wasn't sure Max was unfortunately, horrifyingly straight, Rachel would probably be flirting with Max right now.

It is, but it's never really interested me. It's not the stuff I like to capture in my work, at least. A lot of pretentious people could talk your ear off about how it's the highest form of praise and worship for a model, but that's always felt pretty weird to me. Sometimes it's done with taste, but it's still a strange line to walk. But anyways, considering we're currently in highschool, and stuff like that isn't covered until college, it's not super relevant. I'd like to consider myself a little better than some sleazy jock with nudes in his locker or something

Hey, whatever floats your boat. I'm not really ashamed of my body, and it's not like I'm 17 anymore.

Mmm, I snatched one of my Dad's good whiskey bottles and stashed it in the hideout. Could go for getting a little wasted after fighting with Chloe like that.

i don't want to drink, but don't let me stop you. I don't have a problem with it, hanging out sounds good.

Well, they put her on the basketball team around the same time.

Ah. She always has been unreasonably tall, she used to tease me about it. Sorry, I'll quit asking about her now

Mmm, define "a lot."

More than once a week?

Depends on how shitty said week has been.

It doesn't take long to get to the junkyard, as usual. It helps that they know shortcuts atvthis point, especially thanks to Max growing up in town, even if she left for 5 years. She was always saying how the town barely changed anyways. Rachel sighs and hops onto the hood of an old car, lying down. Her hair spreads out in a circle behind her head, almost looking like a halo, and she rests her hands on her stomach, legs dangling off the hood, feet unable to reach the floor unless she stretches, but that's just fine with her.

Without thinking, Max is already reaching for her camera. Once Rachel had made it clear she didn't mind having her picture taken whenever, it's hard to not find reasons to photograph her all the time. If it didn't sound so creepy, Max would almost call her a muse. She goes from a few different angles, but the top down shot she got from climbing on top of the cab of the car is her favorite, she knows it before the picture is even done developing. Absentmindedly, she wonders how many pictures of Rachel she could hang in her room without looking like a total obsessed freak.

Rachel poses in ways she knows are tantalizing, throwing a couple winks at Max. Somehow, having Max take pictures of her like this is as good as when he does it. Better, in all honesty, but she can't say why.

Max blushes all the way down her neck, freckles even more stark against her skin. It's hard to remind herself that Rachel's just doing this for her portfolio, especially with those faces she's making.

If she wasn't sure Max was unfortunately, horrifyingly straight, Rachel would probably be flirting with Max right now.

It is, but it's never really interested me. It's not the stuff I like to capture in my work, at least. A lot of pretentious people could talk your ear off about how it's the highest form of praise and worship for a model, but that's always felt pretty weird to me. Sometimes it's done with taste, but it's still a strange line to walk. But anyways, considering we're currently in highschool, and stuff like that isn't covered until college, it's not super relevant. I'd like to consider myself a little better than some sleazy jock with nudes in his locker or something

Hey, whatever floats your boat. I'm not really ashamed of my body, and it's not like I'm 17 anymore.

Mmm, I snatched one of my Dad's good whiskey bottles and stashed it in the hideout. Could go for getting a little wasted after fighting with Chloe like that.

i don't want to drink, but don't let me stop you. I don't have a problem with it, hanging out sounds good.

Well, they put her on the basketball team around the same time.

Ah. She always has been unreasonably tall, she used to tease me about it. Sorry, I'll quit asking about her now

Mmm, define "a lot."

It doesn't take long to get to the junkyard, as usual. It helps that they know shortcuts atvthis point, especially thanks to Max growing up in town, even if she left for 5 years. She was always saying how the town barely changed anyways. Rachel sighs and hops onto the hood of an old car, lying down. Her hair spreads out in a circle behind her head, almost looking like a halo, and she rests her hands on her stomach, legs dangling off the hood, feet unable to reach the floor unless she stretches, but that's just fine with her.

Without thinking, Max is already reaching for her camera. Once Rachel had made it clear she didn't mind having her picture taken whenever, it's hard to not find reasons to photograph her all the time. If it didn't sound so creepy, Max would almost call her a muse. She goes from a few different angles, but the top down shot she got from climbing on top of the cab of the car is her favorite, she knows it before the picture is even done developing. Absentmindedly, she wonders how many pictures of Rachel she could hang in her room without looking like a total obsessed freak.

Rachel poses in ways she knows are tantalizing, throwing a couple winks at Max. Somehow, having Max take pictures of her like this is as good as when he does it. Better, in all honesty, but she can't say why.

Max blushes all the way down her neck, freckles even more stark against her skin. It's hard to remind herself that Rachel's just doing this for her portfolio, especially with those faces she's making.

If she wasn't sure Max was unfortunately, horrifyingly straight, Rachel would probably be flirting with Max right now.

It is, but it's never really interested me. It's not the stuff I like to capture in my work, at least. A lot of pretentious people could talk your ear off about how it's the highest form of praise and worship for a model, but that's always felt pretty weird to me. Sometimes it's done with taste, but it's still a strange line to walk. But anyways, considering we're currently in highschool, and stuff like that isn't covered until college, it's not super relevant. I'd like to consider myself a little better than some sleazy jock with nudes in his locker or something

Hey, whatever floats your boat. I'm not really ashamed of my body, and it's not like I'm 17 anymore.

Mmm, I snatched one of my Dad's good whiskey bottles and stashed it in the hideout. Could go for getting a little wasted after fighting with Chloe like that.

i don't want to drink, but don't let me stop you. I don't have a problem with it, hanging out sounds good.

Well, they put her on the basketball team around the same time.

Ah. She always has been unreasonably tall, she used to tease me about it. Sorry, I'll quit asking about her now

It doesn't take long to get to the junkyard, as usual. It helps that they know shortcuts atvthis point, especially thanks to Max growing up in town, even if she left for 5 years. She was always saying how the town barely changed anyways. Rachel sighs and hops onto the hood of an old car, lying down. Her hair spreads out in a circle behind her head, almost looking like a halo, and she rests her hands on her stomach, legs dangling off the hood, feet unable to reach the floor unless she stretches, but that's just fine with her.

Without thinking, Max is already reaching for her camera. Once Rachel had made it clear she didn't mind having her picture taken whenever, it's hard to not find reasons to photograph her all the time. If it didn't sound so creepy, Max would almost call her a muse. She goes from a few different angles, but the top down shot she got from climbing on top of the cab of the car is her favorite, she knows it before the picture is even done developing. Absentmindedly, she wonders how many pictures of Rachel she could hang in her room without looking like a total obsessed freak.

Rachel poses in ways she knows are tantalizing, throwing a couple winks at Max. Somehow, having Max take pictures of her like this is as good as when he does it. Better, in all honesty, but she can't say why.

Max blushes all the way down her neck, freckles even more stark against her skin. It's hard to remind herself that Rachel's just doing this for her portfolio, especially with those faces she's making.

If she wasn't sure Max was unfortunately, horrifyingly straight, Rachel would probably be flirting with Max right now.

It is, but it's never really interested me. It's not the stuff I like to capture in my work, at least. A lot of pretentious people could talk your ear off about how it's the highest form of praise and worship for a model, but that's always felt pretty weird to me. Sometimes it's done with taste, but it's still a strange line to walk. But anyways, considering we're currently in highschool, and stuff like that isn't covered until college, it's not super relevant. I'd like to consider myself a little better than some sleazy jock with nudes in his locker or something

Hey, whatever floats your boat. I'm not really ashamed of my body, and it's not like I'm 17 anymore.

Mmm, I snatched one of my Dad's good whiskey bottles and stashed it in the hideout. Could go for getting a little wasted after fighting with Chloe like that.

i don't want to drink, but don't let me stop you. I don't have a problem with it, hanging out sounds good.

Well, they put her on the basketball team around the same time.

It doesn't take long to get to the junkyard, as usual. It helps that they know shortcuts atvthis point, especially thanks to Max growing up in town, even if she left for 5 years. She was always saying how the town barely changed anyways. Rachel sighs and hops onto the hood of an old car, lying down. Her hair spreads out in a circle behind her head, almost looking like a halo, and she rests her hands on her stomach, legs dangling off the hood, feet unable to reach the floor unless she stretches, but that's just fine with her.

Without thinking, Max is already reaching for her camera. Once Rachel had made it clear she didn't mind having her picture taken whenever, it's hard to not find reasons to photograph her all the time. If it didn't sound so creepy, Max would almost call her a muse. She goes from a few different angles, but the top down shot she got from climbing on top of the cab of the car is her favorite, she knows it before the picture is even done developing. Absentmindedly, she wonders how many pictures of Rachel she could hang in her room without looking like a total obsessed freak.

Rachel poses in ways she knows are tantalizing, throwing a couple winks at Max. Somehow, having Max take pictures of her like this is as good as when he does it. Better, in all honesty, but she can't say why.

Max blushes all the way down her neck, freckles even more stark against her skin. It's hard to remind herself that Rachel's just doing this for her portfolio, especially with those faces she's making.

If she wasn't sure Max was unfortunately, horrifyingly straight, Rachel would probably be flirting with Max right now.

It is, but it's never really interested me. It's not the stuff I like to capture in my work, at least. A lot of pretentious people could talk your ear off about how it's the highest form of praise and worship for a model, but that's always felt pretty weird to me. Sometimes it's done with taste, but it's still a strange line to walk. But anyways, considering we're currently in highschool, and stuff like that isn't covered until college, it's not super relevant. I'd like to consider myself a little better than some sleazy jock with nudes in his locker or something

Hey, whatever floats your boat. I'm not really ashamed of my body, and it's not like I'm 17 anymore.

Mmm, I snatched one of my Dad's good whiskey bottles and stashed it in the hideout. Could go for getting a little wasted after fighting with Chloe like that.

i don't want to drink, but don't let me stop you. I don't have a problem with it, hanging out sounds good.

It doesn't take long to get to the junkyard, as usual. It helps that they know shortcuts atvthis point, especially thanks to Max growing up in town, even if she left for 5 years. She was always saying how the town barely changed anyways. Rachel sighs and hops onto the hood of an old car, lying down. Her hair spreads out in a circle behind her head, almost looking like a halo, and she rests her hands on her stomach, legs dangling off the hood, feet unable to reach the floor unless she stretches, but that's just fine with her.

Without thinking, Max is already reaching for her camera. Once Rachel had made it clear she didn't mind having her picture taken whenever, it's hard to not find reasons to photograph her all the time. If it didn't sound so creepy, Max would almost call her a muse. She goes from a few different angles, but the top down shot she got from climbing on top of the cab of the car is her favorite, she knows it before the picture is even done developing. Absentmindedly, she wonders how many pictures of Rachel she could hang in her room without looking like a total obsessed freak.

Rachel poses in ways she knows are tantalizing, throwing a couple winks at Max. Somehow, having Max take pictures of her like this is as good as when he does it. Better, in all honesty, but she can't say why.

Max blushes all the way down her neck, freckles even more stark against her skin. It's hard to remind herself that Rachel's just doing this for her portfolio, especially with those faces she's making.

If she wasn't sure Max was unfortunately, horrifyingly straight, Rachel would probably be flirting with Max right now.

It is, but it's never really interested me. It's not the stuff I like to capture in my work, at least. A lot of pretentious people could talk your ear off about how it's the highest form of praise and worship for a model, but that's always felt pretty weird to me. Sometimes it's done with taste, but it's still a strange line to walk. But anyways, considering we're currently in highschool, and stuff like that isn't covered until college, it's not super relevant. I'd like to consider myself a little better than some sleazy jock with nudes in his locker or something

Hey, whatever floats your boat. I'm not really ashamed of my body, and it's not like I'm 17 anymore.

Mmm, I snatched one of my Dad's good whiskey bottles and stashed it in the hideout. Could go for getting a little wasted after fighting with Chloe like that.

i don't want to drink, but don't let me stop you. I don't have a problem with it, hanging out sounds good.

It doesn't take long to get to the junkyard, as usual. It helps that they know shortcuts atvthis point, especially thanks to Max growing up in town, even if she left for 5 years. She was always saying how the town barely changed anyways. Rachel sighs and hops onto the hood of an old car, lying down. Her hair spreads out in a circle behind her head, almost looking like a halo, and she rests her hands on her stomach, legs dangling off the hood, feet unable to reach the floor unless she stretches, but that's just fine with her.

Without thinking, Max is already reaching for her camera. Once Rachel had made it clear she didn't mind having her picture taken whenever, it's hard to not find reasons to photograph her all the time. If it didn't sound so creepy, Max would almost call her a muse. She goes from a few different angles, but the top down shot she got from climbing on top of the cab of the car is her favorite, she knows it before the picture is even done developing. Absentmindedly, she wonders how many pictures of Rachel she could hang in her room without looking like a total obsessed freak.

Rachel poses in ways she knows are tantalizing, throwing a couple winks at Max. Somehow, having Max take pictures of her like this is as good as when he does it. Better, in all honesty, but she can't say why.

Max blushes all the way down her neck, freckles even more stark against her skin. It's hard to remind herself that Rachel's just doing this for her portfolio, especially with those faces she's making.

If she wasn't sure Max was unfortunately, horrifyingly straight, Rachel would probably be flirting with Max right now.

It is, but it's never really interested me. It's not the stuff I like to capture in my work, at least. A lot of pretentious people could talk your ear off about how it's the highest form of praise and worship for a model, but that's always felt pretty weird to me. Sometimes it's done with taste, but it's still a strange line to walk. But anyways, considering we're currently in highschool, and stuff like that isn't covered until college, it's not super relevant. I'd like to consider myself a little better than some sleazy jock with nudes in his locker or something

Hey, whatever floats your boat. I'm not really ashamed of my body, and it's not like I'm 17 anymore.

Mmm, I snatched one of my Dad's good whiskey bottles and stashed it in the hideout. Could go for getting a little wasted after fighting with Chloe like that.

It doesn't take long to get to the junkyard, as usual. It helps that they know shortcuts atvthis point, especially thanks to Max growing up in town, even if she left for 5 years. She was always saying how the town barely changed anyways. Rachel sighs and hops onto the hood of an old car, lying down. Her hair spreads out in a circle behind her head, almost looking like a halo, and she rests her hands on her stomach, legs dangling off the hood, feet unable to reach the floor unless she stretches, but that's just fine with her.

Without thinking, Max is already reaching for her camera. Once Rachel had made it clear she didn't mind having her picture taken whenever, it's hard to not find reasons to photograph her all the time. If it didn't sound so creepy, Max would almost call her a muse. She goes from a few different angles, but the top down shot she got from climbing on top of the cab of the car is her favorite, she knows it before the picture is even done developing. Absentmindedly, she wonders how many pictures of Rachel she could hang in her room without looking like a total obsessed freak.

Rachel poses in ways she knows are tantalizing, throwing a couple winks at Max. Somehow, having Max take pictures of her like this is as good as when he does it. Better, in all honesty, but she can't say why.

Max blushes all the way down her neck, freckles even more stark against her skin. It's hard to remind herself that Rachel's just doing this for her portfolio, especially with those faces she's making.

If she wasn't sure Max was unfortunately, horrifyingly straight, Rachel would probably be flirting with Max right now.

It is, but it's never really interested me. It's not the stuff I like to capture in my work, at least. A lot of pretentious people could talk your ear off about how it's the highest form of praise and worship for a model, but that's always felt pretty weird to me. Sometimes it's done with taste, but it's still a strange line to walk. But anyways, considering we're currently in highschool, and stuff like that isn't covered until college, it's not super relevant. I'd like to consider myself a little better than some sleazy jock with nudes in his locker or something

Hey, whatever floats your boat. I'm not really ashamed of my body, and it's not like I'm 17 anymore.

It doesn't take long to get to the junkyard, as usual. It helps that they know shortcuts atvthis point, especially thanks to Max growing up in town, even if she left for 5 years. She was always saying how the town barely changed anyways. Rachel sighs and hops onto the hood of an old car, lying down. Her hair spreads out in a circle behind her head, almost looking like a halo, and she rests her hands on her stomach, legs dangling off the hood, feet unable to reach the floor unless she stretches, but that's just fine with her.

Without thinking, Max is already reaching for her camera. Once Rachel had made it clear she didn't mind having her picture taken whenever, it's hard to not find reasons to photograph her all the time. If it didn't sound so creepy, Max would almost call her a muse. She goes from a few different angles, but the top down shot she got from climbing on top of the cab of the car is her favorite, she knows it before the picture is even done developing. Absentmindedly, she wonders how many pictures of Rachel she could hang in her room without looking like a total obsessed freak.

Rachel poses in ways she knows are tantalizing, throwing a couple winks at Max. Somehow, having Max take pictures of her like this is as good as when he does it. Better, in all honesty, but she can't say why.

Max blushes all the way down her neck, freckles even more stark against her skin. It's hard to remind herself that Rachel's just doing this for her portfolio, especially with those faces she's making.

If she wasn't sure Max was unfortunately, horrifyingly straight, Rachel would probably be flirting with Max right now.

It is, but it's never really interested me. It's not the stuff I like to capture in my work, at least. A lot of pretentious people could talk your ear off about how it's the highest form of praise and worship for a model, but that's always felt pretty weird to me. Sometimes it's done with taste, but it's still a strange line to walk. But anyways, considering we're currently in highschool, and stuff like that isn't covered until college, it's not super relevant. I'd like to consider myself a little better than some sleazy jock with nudes in his locker or something

Hey, whatever floats your boat. I'm not really ashamed of my body, and it's not like I'm 17 anymore.

It doesn't take long to get to the junkyard, as usual. It helps that they know shortcuts atvthis point, especially thanks to Max growing up in town, even if she left for 5 years. She was always saying how the town barely changed anyways. Rachel sighs and hops onto the hood of an old car, lying down. Her hair spreads out in a circle behind her head, almost looking like a halo, and she rests her hands on her stomach, legs dangling off the hood, feet unable to reach the floor unless she stretches, but that's just fine with her.

Without thinking, Max is already reaching for her camera. Once Rachel had made it clear she didn't mind having her picture taken whenever, it's hard to not find reasons to photograph her all the time. If it didn't sound so creepy, Max would almost call her a muse. She goes from a few different angles, but the top down shot she got from climbing on top of the cab of the car is her favorite, she knows it before the picture is even done developing. Absentmindedly, she wonders how many pictures of Rachel she could hang in her room without looking like a total obsessed freak.

Rachel poses in ways she knows are tantalizing, throwing a couple winks at Max. Somehow, having Max take pictures of her like this is as good as when he does it. Better, in all honesty, but she can't say why.

Max blushes all the way down her neck, freckles even more stark against her skin. It's hard to remind herself that Rachel's just doing this for her portfolio, especially with those faces she's making.

If she wasn't sure Max was unfortunately, horrifyingly straight, Rachel would probably be flirting with Max right now.