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Pictures, Tattoos, Rock N’ Roll, And The Boy Who Smiled At Me (Tracii Guns / OC, One-Shot)

1991, L.A Guns opens for Skid Row during the ‘No Fuckin’ Frills’ tour.

Kelly headed towards her, drenched in sweat but eyes gleaming with excitement, energy still flowing in his veins despite the after-show exhaustion. She could see it, as he was almost shaking with adrenaline. He smiled brightly when he saw her waiting on the side of the stage, his grin making his high cheekbones even more visible.

“Hey little Maxwell!” he shouted merrily over the cheering of the audience, and Maxwell laughed at his excitement.

He gave her his bass guitar, so she could properly care for it and pack it for their next destination, and quickly made his way back on the stage for the final bow. The bass was heavy in her hands, so she put the thick – and clearly oversized – strap around her body to carry it to the room the boys kept all the equipment in. Despite the fact that Maxwell knew perfectly where she was going, walking backstage was like trying to reach the other side of a road full of speeding cars: in a nutshell, be careful to look on both sides before crossing. Since L.A Guns opened for Skid Row, the main band was still backstage enjoying a few drinks before going on stage, while the roadies and staff were running in every direction like a bunch of headless chickens.

Maxwell passed by the Skid Row dressing room, peeping discreetly through the open door, silently enough not to be noticed by a very loud Sebastian – who was standing on one of the couches, wearing a bright yellow t-shirt, imitating God knows what – but her pale green hair showy enough to catch Rachel’s attention. The chain going from his nose to his ear made him look a bit intimidating, not to mention the fact that he was a pretty silent man, but after having talked to the guy a few times, Maxwell had stopped being nervous around him. His dark gaze was still very intense though. Rachel smirked, before once again focusing his gaze on Sebastian.

Maxwell entered the room next to theirs. There wasn’t much space, but being alone in there was always a moment that she welcomed with open arms. After all, being a roadie, and Kelly’s bass guitar tech, meant countless hours in the staff tour bus – only sleeping in hotels when they were lucky – and listening to live music almost 24/7. Needless to say, privacy and calm were to be given up, a price that Maxwell was glad to pay. She liked being surrounded by all these loud musicians, and she was happy to be able to call them her friends.

Max was thrilled that her parents had let her go on tour with the boys. After all, she was only 21. She had once been a studious young woman, working two jobs in two different bars on the Sunset Strip to pay for her college tuition. Her parents couldn’t pay it all, and she still lived with them to limit expenses, but she was glad for the opportunity to work, even it if was exhausting. Every monthly paycheck, Max felt that she was one step closer to independence. She still waited until the end of her third year studying musicology before she told her parents that she wished to take a year-long break and experience the world outside of university. In a way, she needed time to think about what she was going to do next. Her parents' only conditions had been that she continues to take care of herself, that she has a regular salary, and that she enjoys as much as she possibly could.

Originally, Maxwell had just intended to keep working at her jobs to save money, but the members of L.A Guns had barged into her life like a bunch of elephants in a porcelain shop. From the beginning, they had been very imposing, very loud and had had absolutely no intention to leave her alone. Maxwell had gone through the stages of initial surprise and annoyance, to getting used to their presence, to welcoming them every time they came through the doors of the bar she worked at.

If you worked a night job on the Sunset Strip, it wasn’t rare to come across the Hollywood Vampires, as they were often called. In fact, Maxwell’s first contact with one of the boys had been when a drunk-out-of-his-ass Kelly had collapsed on her counter and had started asking her out on a date, thinking he was so charming that he had started winking at her suggestively – well, that’s what he thought, he had actually just been blinking with both eyes, which had been hilarious. The memory was always sure to bring a smile on Maxwell’s face. She had bonded nicely with the boys, especially with Kelly, who played the bass, just like her, and Tracii, who always had kind words and smiles for her. Kelly had made her do a few trials with his bass, and when Maxwell had one night expressed her desire to get out of Los Angeles for a few months, the boys had offered her to go on tour with them as a roadie and Kelly’s bass guitar tech. The attention had made Maxwell blush, as she was truly attached to the band, and the fact that Kelly trusted her with his instrument was very flattering.

And now, three months later, she was still on the road with them, in Europe. She felt good there, like she had found her place in this overly-masculine environment. Everybody was nice, the boys were generally quite protective of her anyway, and that extended to the Skid Row boys as well, particularly Sebastian and Rachel.

Sebastian’s loud laugh resonated in the corridor, and Maxwell heard the boys of the main band starting to walk towards the stage. This meant that L.A Guns would soon be finished with receiving their daily dose of the audience’s attention, and would get back in their own dressing room, probably accompanied by a few groupies, to start drinking until dawn, after what they would board their tour bus and nap all day like a bunch of toddlers. The young woman smiled; she was so fond of them.

When she finished making sure that the bass was still properly tuned, she started wiping the sweat on it with a wet cloth.

Boy, she was pretty sure that Kelly lost half of his body-mass in sweat during each concert. Gross.

Once it was all clean and she was happy with her work, she put the bass in its case and headed towards the small – and only – bag that belonged to her in the room. She opened it and took her most precious possession in her hands. Her camera.

Since her parents had given her her first camera when she was 10, Maxwell had been obsessed with taking pictures of literally everything. It had become a kind of OCD, and her suitcase was filled with albums containing all the pictures she took of the concerts of L.A Guns and Skid Row, as well as a lot of backstage pictures, and pictures of random things that she found beautiful.

Maxwell's plans for the night mainly included watching the boys of Skid Row during their concert. She would probably never be tired of taking pictures of Sebastian Bach. As energetic and loud and over-confident as he sometimes could be, Maxwell couldn’t deny that he had a kind of youthful beauty that made him an excellent model for her pictures: he was tall, even taller than Kelly, and his dollface, long silky blond hair and baby blue eyes were an absolute pleasure to photograph.

As she was making her way to the stage, Kelly’s tall stature entered her field of vision. As soon as she saw one of his dark eyebrows raised and his arms crossed on his chest, blocking her way to the side of the stage, Maxwell knew that her program of taking pictures of Skid Row wasn’t going to happen that night. She cradled her camera to her chest and walked towards the bassist. She stopped in front of him, and Maxwell almost felt the bones in her neck crack when she tilted her head upwards to look at Kelly’s satisfied smirk.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Maxwell enquired.

“Because I know a girl. She's pretty. She has green hair. And she is going to spend the night with us, for once...” Kelly smirked.

"Nice Kelly, you'll introduce us if I meet her one day," Max joked. She didn't know if she had the strength of watching them all getting fucked up on alcohol, and who knows what else, when her program had initially included relaxing.

“... and if she refuses, I’m going to take her camera," Kelly carried on.

“Kelly, if you damage my camera, I’m going to damage one of your balls,” Maxwell looked at him in the eyes, daring him to touch her camera, her baby. She usually had a sweet and very kind disposition, but when touring, she had to play by their rules.

Kelly gulped, “Just one?”

Max raised one eyebrow, and clenched her fists, “Well, since you’re asking so nicely…”

“No no no! It’s okay, I’m not touching your camera!” He feigned being hurt. “But come with us though, why are you always taking pictures of them?” he said, pouting, while leading her to the large dressing room with a hand on her back. Maxwell let him, Kelly was always particularly protective of her, in a brotherly kind of way.

“Well it’s obvious Kelly, use your brain…” she said, looking at him thinking hard, “I mean, they’re so much more handsome than you bunch of uglies.”

“Hey, you know it’s not true! Plus, we have the best hair!”

“You all have the same hair, Kelly. Same colour, same length, same originality,” Maxwell said laughing. “BO-RING”.

“You love it though.”

“Yes, I do.”

“And you love us.”

“Don’t be so sure about that.”

They arrived at the door of the dressing room, and Kelly took Maxwell in his arms, half-bent over her small stature. Max leant in, glad for the affection, and hugged him back. To her, Kelly was the big brother she never had the chance to have, and she knew that he felt the same way. Kelly booped her nose, laughing, and took a seat – or rather, crashed like a morbidly obese sea lion – on one of the couches, next to a girl wearing a red dress.

Tracii was absent. If Max remembered correctly what Kelly had mentioned on the way, he was taking a shower to relax and get rid of the after-show sweat. Max could understand; showers in the venues were rare, so every time there were some to their disposition, they tried to make the most of it. Most of the boys were playing cards and drinking, except maybe for Phil, the oldest member of the band and without any doubt the horniest as well, who was busy with the girl leaning seductively against him. Maxwell didn’t really like the groupies, but she admired their openness regarding their own desires, when Max already found it difficult to bond with people. The boys had become her temporary family, and she was comfortable with them, despite being one of the only girls on the road with them.

The girl in the red dress clinging to Phil was stunning, in a way that was sensual and innocent at the same time. She was of mixed ethnicity, with one of her parents probably being Asian and the other Caucasian, and she seemed to have gotten the best parts of each side : long straight thick black hair, dark almond shaped eyes shining with intelligence, a discreet smirk, and surprisingly, a few freckles on her pale skin. For once, one of the groupies Phil had chosen looked decent enough.

Maxwell looked down at her forearms. Even though they were pale, they were also covered with freckles, pretty much just like the rest of her face and body. Max had needed a long time to accept them, especially during teenagehood, when she was always teased about them. Max’s natural hair was dark brown, just like her father’s, but the freckles and pale skin came from her mother, who was a redhead. Now, Maxwell didn’t mind this physical trait so much anymore, and she had even dyed her whole hair a light green. Now she looked truly unique, not like a bad mix of her two parents.

Max headed towards the 'couple' and lightly tapped the girl in red’s shoulder, blushing.

“Excuse me, can I take a picture of you?”

The girl didn’t seem to understand, so Phil explained, answering to Maxwell’s silent cry for help.

“Mikaela, this is Maxwell. She is obsessed with photos, she takes pictures of everything. She's a bit of a nerd, but she’s also a bass player and one of our roadies.”

Max glared at Phil. She was sure he was going to add his grain of salt to the conversation.

“Thank you Phil, but can you tell me exactly what, in your eyes, makes me a nerd?”

Phil put his arm around Mikaela’s waist, and smirked. Cocky little shit, you’re lucky you have a sexy accent and a pretty face.

“Maxie here spends her nights either taking pictures of the other band, or reading in her bed instead of hanging out and drink with us.”

Maxwell looked at the other girl and smiled.

“Don’t listen to him, I don’t take pictures of him because he’s ugly, and he’s also jealous of the fact that I can read.”

When Phil put his hand on his heart in fake hurt, Mikaela burst out laughing, and Max knew that she had just made an ally. Mikaela extended her hand for Max to shake.

“My name is Mikaela but you can call me Mika, everyone does. And of course, you can take my picture, it's so lovely!”

Maxwell smiled and shot several pictures, some of Mika alone, and others with Phil. They sure would have made a sexy couple, but she knew Phil wouldn't settle down before long. Mika seemed aware of it and didn't look bothered by this fact.

Max was so solitary that she had a hard time trusting people, and had to her own despair never dated anyone. She had had massive crushes on classmates but her shyness made her stop there. No one – that she knew of – ever seemed to reciprocate her feelings. She was not ashamed of it, as her situation was in majority due to her own choices, but she had to admit that she avoided talking about it. If the guys knew, she would never hear the end of it, not counting the fact that they would try to find a man for her in every city they would stop at. But Maxwell knew that she couldn't just settle for one night. As stupid as it might sound in this sex, drugs and rock n' roll environment, stability and a simple and honest relationship were what she desired and she was decided to settle for no less than that.

Maxwell thanked Mika: “Thank you, the pictures are going to turn out so good!”

“No, thank you Max, at least I’ll have some memories of tonight,” Mika scribbled on a piece of paper, “if you ever have them developed, could you send them to me? This is my address, we should keep in contact.”

Phil sent Maxwell the ‘I can’t believe you just made friends with the girl I intend to bang tonight’ look, and Max silently answered with a clever smirk, almost feeling demon horns growing on her head. It’s good to be evil sometimes.

“Go on Maxie, you’ve got your pictures, now go bother Mick and Steve,” Phil said, seemingly eager to get rid of her. He could be a bit abrasive sometimes, but deep down, he was a nice guy.

“Okay Phil, I’m going away, but first you have to stop calling me Maxi– “

Before she had the time to finish her sentence, Maxwell felt two rather strong tattooed arms snake around her waist, surprising her. The owner of the two arms glued his torso to her back and Max felt a kiss being pressed on her cheek. She blushed.

She liked Tracii a lot. He was not only a very good guitar player, but also a very good friend, who from the beginning, had been nothing but supportive of her. Maxwell had an ungodly amount of pictures of him, mainly because Tracii posed for her every time he saw her with her camera just because he knew that it made her happy. Out of all the members of the band, Kelly and Tracii were the ones Max had the most tenderness for, but even she could make a distinction between the brotherly bond she shared with Kelly and the thing – for lack of a better word – that she felt for Tracii.

“Hi Maxie! Finally decided to join us, haven’t you?” Tracii said, still enveloping her frail body in his arms. Well, she was only small compared to them: standing at 5’5, she was only a little bit smaller than Tracii, who was the smallest in L.A Guns with his 5’8. No need to precise what a delightful pleasure Sebastian Bach took in teasing Max on her height, even allowing himself the luxury to call her ‘Mini Maxie’. Damn giant.

“I didn’t really have a choice, Kelly took matters in his own hands and as you know, shit happens when he does.”

“You’ll thank me later ‘Maxie’,” Kelly smiled.

“Hey! Why can Tracii call her ‘Maxie’ and I can’t exactly?” Phil asked.

“That’s because I’m her favourite and you’re not."

Tracii smiled, his head resting on Max’s shoulder, breathing deeply, leaning slightly against her, his eyes closed. Maxwell could feel his skin, warmer than hers. He smelt all clean – he had indeed taken a shower, and every muscle in his body was obviously relaxed now, thanks to the hot water. Max lightly tapped his shoulder, she was scared he would fall asleep right there and then.

“C’mon Tracii, let’s sit with the others”

The guitarist opened his heavy eyes and smiled. Max could feel Tracii’s wet hair tickling the skin of her neck. She put her camera on the only table in the room and Tracii moved to the couch, taking Max with him, and sat her besides Mick Cripps, so close that she was obviously invading poor Mick’s personal space. Max quickly apologized, but a smile from Mick told her everything was alright. Out of all L.A Guns members, he was the one that spoke the less, or as he would rather say ‘when there is nothing to say, I don't say anything’.

When Max could finally look at Tracii, she felt her heart swell in her chest: he was so beautiful, with his wet hair, short at the back and long enough at the front to cover his eyes, his dark eyes and his long face with somewhat noble features. Damn, this thing she felt for him was becoming more and more cumbersome by the second…

“Maxie, can you help me?” Tracii woke Max up from her internal monologue, handing her a black bandana.

Maxwell nodded, while Tracii sat on the floors, between her legs with his back to her, and quickly went to work. She started by trying to untangle a few knots before brushing his hair back with her fingers. Max smiled when the guitarist let out a sigh of well-being. Just like her, he apparently loved it when someone touched his hair. Maxwell felt good, like nothing could burst the bubble of intimacy she and Tracii had built around themselves. She tied the bandana, tight enough so it wouldn’t bother him, grabbed his cap and put it on his head over the bandana.

“There, all good” she said, tapping lightly on Tracii’s cap-covered head.

“Thanks Maxie!” Tracii said, but made no move to change his position from sitting on the floor, his back against the couch, between her legs.

Maxwell got up anyway, and grabbed her camera, shooting several pictures of Tracii. When he saw her with her most treasured possession in her hands, focused on him, and him only, Tracii leaned forward a bit, showing his beautifully inked arms to Max, and smiled so brightly for her she thought she was going to become blind. After their little photo session, Max sat on the couch again, satisfied, in the same position as earlier, the guitarist once again getting comfy near her, even leaning his head on one of her legs.

When Max stopped focusing on Tracii, she realized that everyone, members of the band as well as Mika, had stopped talking to observe her and Tracii. After a minute of silence – which was very rare for the boys – except from the sound of Skid Row’s ‘Youth Gone Wild’, Max finally spoke.

“What are you all looking at?” She said, unsure of what had provoked their reaction.

All Hell broke loose at that moment, and everyone started to speak at the same time.

“So, how long has it been going?” Mick.

“Tracii, you didn’t tell me? I thought I was your best friend?!” Steve.

“You guys are so cute.” Mika.

"You look so happy together it makes me want to puke rainbows." Phil.

“Max can I be your maid of honor? Dresses suit me, I have a very slender waist!” Kelly.

Max watched the mess, totally confused. She was aware that they were just teasing her, but none of the teasings before had involved the guitarist she happened to have a nasty crush on. When she thought it couldn’t possibly get worse, Tracii started answering everything in the most unexpected way, a big goofy smile on his face.

“Well, it's been going for about a week but we wanted to wait to tell you guys. We're very happy together. Thank you honey, Mika, isn’t it? Phil, I'll take that as a compliment. Kelly, you will look dashing I’m sure!”

Maxwell didn’t know what to think of the web of lies Tracii was building around them. He was surely joking, right? She knew just like him that they were not in a relationship. Her heart was beating so fast she thought it was going to jump out of her chest. She didn’t like being the center of attention. She must have looked like a deer in the headlights, because Tracii, still sat on the ground, turned to look at her, a worried look painted on his face. His gaze was so expressive that she could almost tell what he wanted to say to her: ‘Are you okay? Have I gone too far?’

Fortunately, before the others had the time to notice the distressed look on Maxwell’s face, Phil stood, yawned out of boredom, and started to make his way to the door.

“Max, Tracii, I love you guys and I'm happy for you but all I want right now is a beer,” he said, quickly followed by Mika, and the other guys, “can you tell the Skid Row guys we’re out and they can join when they’re finished?”

“Yes, no problem. Maxwell and I need to talk anyway. Maybe I’ll join you after,” Tracii said, looking at Max.

Kelly stopped in the door frame before winking.

“Behave my little lovebirds, don’t do anything I would do.”

Max put her hands on her face to block the entire world from her view, just the time the room became silent again. She made a face before opening her fingers, and closing them again when she saw Tracii looking at her.

“Maxie…” he started. She cut him, removing her hands from her face.

“What just happened? Everything was under control one moment, and the next they were practically planning our wedding. God, I’m so embarrassed!”

Tracii looked hurt for a moment.

“You’re embarrassed because I said we were together? I’m sorry, I noticed you were uncomfortable when they were teasing you, and so I thought I would shift their attention to me…”

“It obviously worked so well Tracii!” Max snapped. She started regretting right away, the poor man looked so hurt.

“No, I’m sorry Tracii, I shouldn’t have talked to you that way. I just want to know, why tell them we’re together?”

Tracii got up and sat beside her on the now-empty couch.

“I don’t really know, it’s the first thing that came to my mind. I didn’t think you would mind so much, I… I thought I had interpreted the signs the right way but, apparently, I made a monumental mistake…”

Now Maxwell was even more confused. She looked at the guitarist: he was sitting, his elbows on his knees, face hidden in his hands. Her heart nearly broke at how sad he looked, his behaviour contrasting with his bad boy looks. His black cap, bandana, torn tank top and beautifully inked arms sure made him pass for a tough guy, but Maxwell knew that when it came to Tracii, the phrase 'never judge a book by its cover' had never been more fitting.

“What are you talking about Tracii? What signs?” she asked in what came out as barely a whisper. Max’s heart was beating so fast, because despite her question, she had the feeling she knew where this conversation was headed.

“Your signs, Maxwell. You. You were always so sweet and kind, and sometimes, I felt like I was the only one with Kelly who could make you open up to the group.”

"You're right. I mean, you both helped me a lot in the beginning, and even now. But I still don't understand what you're talking about," Max sighed, completely lost.

Tracii looked desperate for a moment, as if he was a mere second away from exploding under the pressure this conversation was putting on him.

He took a deep breath, looked at her and started talking.

"Maxwell, the day I met you, the very moment Kelly collapsed on your counter and started doing this ridiculous charm act he insists is so efficient on women, and that I saw you smile, I wanted you to be a part of my life." Tracii stopped, fiddled with the hem of his shirt and continued, "I insisted for us to always go to the bars you worked at, at the hours I was sure you were gonna be there. I wanted to get to know you. When we started hanging out and Kelly proposed that you become his bass tech, so you could come on tour with us, I was thrilled."

Max nodded, too stunned to do anything else. She didn't know any of that.

"Then you left with us, and everything was perfect. We all had a girl who we knew was competent at her job, but would also be our friend, and would take care of us just like we would take care of her. But the more I spent time with you, the more my feelings started evolving…"

Maxwell held her breath. Anxiety seemed to be eating at her very insides. Was all this really happening? With him?

"Anyway, I'm not going to beat around the bush any longer Max. I have feelings for you, I don't know what happened, but they're here. I just thought, by how you acted with me, that you were ready to reciprocate these feelings, but everything that has happened in the last ten minutes leads me to think that I was wrong. The most stupid is, when you were hanging out with the others, or Rachel and Sebastian, I always felt a pang of jealousy arise in me. Not because I didn't trust you – you are perfectly capable of making your own choices and being with who you want – but because I envied them and the time they got to spend with you, even if we were always pretty close."

A minute of tense silence passed. Tracii reached for her hand and the feeling was so foreign to her that she jumped a bit. It was one thing to accept platonic physical contact in front of their friends, but this gesture felt more intimate than anything she had ever experienced. Yet, the guitarist never let go, and did everything he could to make her look at him in the eyes.

"I never knew Tracii, I would have never guessed."

"Well, now you know. I know that you're shy and that you don't like this kind of situation, but this time I was stuck. And it feels good to finally tell you. Don't think that because I have feelings towards you that you're not a good friend anymore. Our relationship will evolve only if you want to, but if it doesn't, be sure that I will always be there for you, Maxwell Lucy Milner.” Tracii briefly tightened his hand around hers and smiled at Max, “Always.”

Then this moment, which to Maxwell had seemed to last for seconds and hours at the same time, ended. Tracii let go of her hand and got up, heading towards the door of the room, probably to join his bandmates in whatever bar they had decided to colonize for the night.

Maxwell felt dread invade her whole body at the thought of what she wanted to do, of what was going to happen next. Even after Tracii admitted his feelings towards her, she was somehow still scared of getting rejected. Yet, she was even more scared at the thought of not doing anything.

Come on, do something, don’t let him go.

Tracii had almost reached the door when Max spoke, forcing herself to sound infinitely more assured than she really was.

“Tracii, wait!” Maxwell got up as well, made a few steps, and stopped right in front of Tracii. She looked up in his eyes, greyish-blue meeting chocolate brown. “You don’t have to be jealous you know…”

“Yes, I know it doesn’t make any sense, you don’t belong to anyone, to me even less.”

“No Tracii, what I meant was,” Max sighed, and prayed for her sudden moment of courage to stay with her until the end of the conversation, “you don’t have to be jealous because there is no reason for it. I have feelings for you too. I have since the beginning of the tour.”

All of a sudden, Max felt Tracii’s hands on her waist, the fabric of her flannel shirt thin enough to feel the warmth of his palms, and the delicate strength he applied on her sides.

“Maxie, are you sure? Because I don’t want you to say that just to please me…”

“I couldn’t be more sure.”

“Max that’s… that’s wonderful!” Tracii was smiling so hard that Max thought he was going to break his jaw, his high cheekbones making him look adorable.

She lowered her head. She felt like a teenager, ashamed to tell her friends about her inexperience.

“No Tracii, you don’t understand. I… I’ve never had a boyfriend.”

The guitarist’s eyes opened wide, but his smile didn’t fade, and Maxwell thought she could see tenderness in his gaze.

“Never. Like, never never?”

“Never never.” Max repeated, smiling sadly. In an attempt to feel less vulnerable, she hugged Tracii, and hid her face in his neck so he couldn’t see her. She sighed in relief when Tracii’s arms looped around her waist, applying a gentle and reassuring pressure on her body. She felt Tracii hold his breath and waited for him to speak.

“Wait, so… that means that you’ve never…?”

“Please Tracii, don’t say it, this situation is already awkward enough for me as it is.” Maxwell whispered, slightly uncomfortable.

Tracii chuckled, and Max tapped his shoulder as roughly as her position would allow.

“And don’t laugh at me!”

“Maxwell, I’m not laughing at you. I promise. But it’s ridiculous.”

“I know, no need to remind me…”

“No, it’s not you who is ridiculous. It’s all these boys who have never dared to ask you out. They have missed a rare gem. You might not trust yourself enough to see it Maxie, but I do. You are pretty, intelligent, patient, modest… you’re beautiful, inside and out. Don’t put yourself down, it’s useless because I’ll always be there to tell you this, every hour of every day that pass by where you'll allow me to be by your side.”

Max felt tears threatening to roll down her cheeks. She always promised her mom that she wouldn’t settle down with the first man who would shower her in compliments and sweet words but… how could her mother know how alive he made her feel, and what Maxwell really felt towards this man?

How much she loved him. Wait, what?

Maxwell smiled at her realization, but decided to keep it to herself. One day maybe, when she feels more assured and comfortable, she would tell him.

She slightly broke away from Tracii, and looked him in the eyes. They were shining with what she could only call adoration. Suddenly, Tracii leaned towards her and kissed her cheek, right where a tear she hadn't even realized the existence of had rolled down her skin. Then he kissed her other cheek, and Maxwell closed her eyes.

His lips felt almost shy and hesitant on hers, but they were warm and soft. The feeling was foreign, and not quite as ‘magical’ as in the novels Max had read when she was younger, but it was simple, full of affection and she felt safe with him. She answered to his kiss as she could, trying to communicate what she felt for him through it, all despite her inexperience. Tracii didn’t try to go further than this, probably not wanting her to feel overwhelmed.

A shrill whistle surprised them, and Tracii and Max, surprised, moved away from each other at the speed of lightning, almost as if they were two schoolchildren caught red-handed putting thumbtacks on the teacher’s chair.

There, all piled up to fit in the door frame and not miss one second of the show, was the entirety of Skid Row. Max had not even realized that more than one hour had passed since the end of L.A Guns’s concert. Scotti Hill crossed his arms on his chest.

“Well, well, well, who would have thought?” He said, a naughty smirk plastered on his face.

Max blushed and looked down. Tracii walked to her and took her hand in his.

“If Mini Maxie ends up pregnant and it’s a boy, you’ll have to call him Sebastian! If it’s a girl, well… Sebastiana?” The singer exclaimed, obviously proud of himself.

“How original Baz, very impressive.” Dave ‘Snake’ Sabo laughed at the singer, while Rachel’s eyes rolled so far in the back of his head at Sebastian's suggestions that Max thought they were going to get stuck.

The bassist spoke up when Max met his dark gaze. He smirked as well, the young girl's discomfort being for him a source of prime quality entertainment.

“And as future godfather, I veto those two names, one Sebastian is already more than enough for me to handle.”

Max chuckled discreetly and smiled at Rachel. She definitely had a knack for brotherly relationships with bassists. Rachel started walking away from the door, making sure that his bandmates follow him, all distracted by the idea of an after-show drinking session with L.A Guns. Before he disappeared from her view, Max thought she saw Rachel wink at her, but the gesture was so furtive that she wondered if she hadn’t just imagined it.

When she felt Tracii’s arms snake around her waist, asking for contact, she gladly returned in his arms, her back to his torso, both of his hands joining on her stomach, and his head on her shoulder. When he spoke, his voice – not quite low but still unmistakably masculine – made Max shiver.

“We are fucked, there is no way Sebastian can shut his mouth, especially after a few beers.” Max felt the guitarist smile against her flannel-covered shoulder, and a few seconds later, a kiss was pressed on her neck.

“Well, technically, they already believe that we are together, so they will not be surprised.”

“You’re right… maybe I made a good decision when I decided to lie earlier.”

“It’s not right to lie,” Max chastised gently, “but today, I’m glad you did.”

They spent a few minutes in each other's arms, in silence, before Maxwell frowned.

“Trace?”

“Yes, honey?” He answered, just before covering her cheeks with kisses, which made Max laugh. He was so affectionate, and she was pleased to discover this side of him.

“Didn’t you want to go to the bar with the others?”

Tracii stayed silent for a second before responding.

“I think I’d prefer to stay with you tonight, all I want to do is bring you back to our tour bus and spend the night with you.”

Maxwell paused for a moment.

“Tracii, I... I’m not sure if this is a good idea. I’m afraid you’re going to have to be patient for… plus I don’t want you to feel forced to stay with me just because I rarely go to bars. I’m fine with a night by myself.”

“No no no, Maxie I didn’t mean it like that! God, we’re going to take our time. And you’re not forcing me to do anything. We have all tour to drink with the others. All I want right now is to hold you in my arms.”

Despite how tempting the thought of a night in the arms of the man she loved was, Max was still hesitant. Not regarding Tracii’s behaviour, as she trusted him completely – especially as he had said nothing would happen that night – and she knew him quite well by now, but rather regarding the fact that he was a child of rock n’ roll before anything else and she didn’t want to separate him from his music, from his life.

“The others are going to miss you.” She tried, turning in his arms to look at him. He was grinning, completely aware of what she was trying to do. He pecked her lips.

“They will be so drunk they won’t even notice that I’m not with them.”

“The bunk bed is too tight for two people.”

“Good.” He simply answered, a devilish look in his eyes. Another peck on her lips.

Max decided to try one last time to convince him, secretly delighted that he wanted to spend some time with her.

“Kelly will plan 35 different ways to kill you when he sees me in your bed, and Phil will imagine all kinds of dirty scenarios and will tell everything about them in detail. We’re never going to hear the end of it.”

Tracii pretended to think about it for a second before the shadow of a naughty smirk crossed his face, his eyes shining with a playful glow.

“I think I’ll take the risk.”

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