༼real life༽
The best time to skate is at night, when nobody is around to judge me as I fall on my ass again and again. In all honesty, I think I've never been to a skate park during the day. And it's not cause I'm scared of the place as much as it is that I'm scared of the people. Or, cause I'm scared of one certain faction. Skater boys. With the floppy hair that's my literal kryptonite, tucked into a beanie, and the silent judgement that scares the shit out of me. Oh, and the fact that they're just so fucking attractive.
Let's just say I've gotten pretty good at running away from skater boys, and leave it at that.
∞
It's around midnight on a Tuesday, and I'm alone at the skatepark nearest to my house. It's cast in the glow of artificial lights, and I look up for a second, noticing that the moon is full tonight. I try to stop, wanting to keep staring at the moon. But, my board doesn't want to. So I keep going, gathering speed, before eventually slamming into a big concrete block.
And of course there has to be someone at the other side of the park, someone who I spot out of the corner of my eye moments before I'm thrown backwards. The person runs over, holding their board in their left hand. "Are you ok?" they ask, reaching a hand out to help me up. And holy god.
He's cute. Like, he's really cute. Like, I'm starting to question my existence cute. He has curly brown hair, in many different shades, and eyes that somehow sparkle in the crappy lighting. He has a white nasa hoodie and black jeans on, with a flannel thrown on over. And pearls. This boy is wearing literal fucking pearls.
I'm going to die.
I grab his hand, and he helps pull me up. "I'm good," I laugh awkwardly, even though my head is already starting to hurt. "I've had practice. It's the block I think you should worry about." He laughs too, a sound that surprises me. I like his laugh a lot more than I thought I would, and his voice, and everything that I know about him so far. You don't know him, I tell myself. But to be fair, that doesn't really change anything.
"I'm Vinnie." he smiles, and it's a seemingly real smile. We're still holding hands, neither of us even motioning to let go. Finally, after what feels like forever, I look away from his hazel eyes and let go of his hand to go grab my board. He skates after me, almost slamming into me. Instead, I turn around at the last possible second and slam into his chest.
"I'm Maxine." His lips are inches away from mine and it's making my breathing short, so my name comes out as a breathy whisper. "But you'd better call me max."
His eyes glitter, like he's about to play some kind of prank on me, so I'm incredibly surprised at what comes out of his perfect mouth next. "What do you say we get out of here, Maxine?" I blush when he says my name, not caring that he didn't listen to me because it sounds so fucking hot. I want to go with him, knowing what will most likely happen if I do.
And I've known this guy for all of five minutes, but of course I go with him. It's just basic instinct. You meet a hot guy, who wants to hook up with you, of course you go with him. Like, If I get kidnapped or some shit it'll be by a hot as fuck guy who can do literally whatever he wants with me either way.
∞
We don't just hook up, even though DAMN does it happen. And shit, I don't want Vinnie to just be some one night thing. Because we spend hours sitting in his hotel room, talking and drinking Champagne (because somehow this boy has Champagne in his fucking hotel room) and kissing. We do a LOT of kissing, and a lot more than just kissing.
yet, for some weird reason I feel like I can share the deepest secrets I have with him, and it's obvious he feels the same way. We have a connection, a weird and deep and confusing connection. But it's there.
We fall asleep at nine in the morning, when the sun has already risen and there are people all around, cuddled up together. It feels so perfect, and I can't help but wish that this could be different. That he didn't have to leave later today, that I didn't have to stay here.
I leave at two pm, moving his arm from where it's wrapped around me protectively. I slip away before he wakes up, stealing the hoodie that he was wearing when we met. It smells like him, and I know that I'll probably keep it forever.
i take a look at him one last time before closing the door, and a little voice in my head whispers you belong with him.
And right as I'm about to shut the door, I hear him turn over. And, in his sleep, he whispers "maxine...."
I shut the door behind me, and begin the long walk home. Half way there, for some unexplainable reason, I start crying.
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