Hatchetfield.

Nail Me (On The Cross)

A/N: Well, Max Jägerman and Grace Chasity smut. Except Max IS ALIVE-

One little date.

Famous last words she dared to try ignoring. They  rang in her ears, that sentence. Those words, clearly spoken with the intent of breaking her, had now led her to that exact moment in time where she was certain that she had died. The exact moment which were destined to kill her had been when she'd heard those words. She just knew that. She just knew that all of this was a mistake.

One little date.

That was all it was supposed to be. One little date. One little date which, actually, had been shockingly okay. Not that she knew what to go off of, she didn't know what a date was supposed to feel like. She was saving herself for dates to wait for the man she'd marry, and the man she'd marry would be the only person she'd ever date. The only thing she knew to go off of was what her parents told her on the odd occasion, about how they spent hours at the library on weekends reading their personal copies of The Bible that they'd snuck in, or from TV shows and movies. She knew that she was supposed to feel good on that date, though, and she told herself that if she decided she hated it, she would turn around, leave, and hope he never bothered her again. After all, he had been the one asking for one little date. He'd understand.

So she went.

He'd come up to her in the hallway of Hatchetfield High while she was protesting against the co-ed dance. Very foolishly, he had asked her what she had been doing, like it hadn't been obvious from the massive sign she had made. She shoved one of her pamphlets into his hand, asking him to tell her team to start rallying. If people listened to him then she would be taken seriously. So, they had talked, and it had been then he had dropped that bombshell on her. One little date. She couldn't exactly remember agreeing to it, more so asking him that if she went he'd leave her alone. He agreed, and so, their plans were swept into motion.

The night had began when Maxwell Jagerman pulled up to the Chasity estate in the golden carriage that was his red BMW. He was wearing a navy raglan shirt underneath his Nighthawks varsity jacket. He was wearing jeans like he usually was and, undoubtably, was wearing those beat up white sneakers of his. She was dressed to oppose him. She was wearing a white shirt with small flowers on it, orange and yellow in colour. Over the top, she wore a lilac coloured cardigan and, to match, wore purple, flowy trousers. On her feet, she was wearing platform Mary-Jane shoes, black in colour with a two inch heel. It was devious to her, to wear something so eccentric her. She had at least attempted to make herself look nice, having curled her hair to give it a bit of a wave.

Suddenly, she was dropping her small cream-coloured rucksack down by her feet as she sat in his passenger seat. Max was busy shouting something out the window to her father about how he'd take good care of her, how he'd bring her home by a certain time and whatever else. She didn't care. Then, with that smirk on his face, he'd pulled away.

One little date.

She had no idea what he had meant by that, no idea what he actually had planned until they arrived. Of course, she was more than aware of the fact that someone like her being seen with someone like him would raise eyebrows, spark rumours. Gosh forbid what'd happen if that kind of rumour got back to her parents. Merely, this was going to be a nice date. Again, what defined "nice" was something she was unaware of. It truly was something she had no idea of until she was there, in the moment, living it out for the first time.

He took her to Miss Retro's right an hour before closing. It was practically empty, and she had argued against it, but he had insisted. What she found endearing was how he profusely apologised to Miss Retro herself for coming in so late. He ordered them a meal, got himself a coffee and got her a milkshake.