Kickflip | bxb

five: the game

"Hey, what're you doing after work?"

Quinn finished straightening the skateboard he had put back up on its rack before he looked over at Matt questioningly. "No plans. Why?"

Shrugging, Matt laced his fingers behind his neck and recrossed his ankles the other way on the counter. It had been another quiet shift. Quinn had brought a couple of his mix CD's to put on the speakers, and they had been listening to them all day. Some of it was weird stuff Matt never would have chosen to listen to himself, but he found he mostly really liked it.

"You wanna hang out?" Matt asked.

"It's raining," Quinn pointed out.

Matt rolled his eyes. "No duh. I mean at my house. We could play some Tony Hawk or something. I got Pro Skater 3 last Christmas, have you played it?"

"No." That slow grin crept across Quinn's lips. "Sounds sweet. I'm in."

So after they had locked up, they put their hoods up and skated back to Matt's house, several blocks closer to the river. The pavement was slick under their wheels, dark asphalt shimmering in the grey light. Despite the wet, Quinn spent the trip ollying over every obstacle he could find: the curb, low bushes, some milk crates. Matt didn't know how Quinn could even bend his knees like that in his tight pants.

Matt took a little detour to kick his board up into a one-eighty over a short flight of stairs outside the church. Landing, he cruised slowly away, grinning back at Quinn, who was still at the top.

Smirking, Quinn kicked off, ollied up, and kicked out his board, ignoring the rail and sailing over the stairs in a graceful backside one-eighty kickflip. He landed hard but straightened quickly, giving Matt a smug smile as he caught up, pulling up the hood that had fallen down on his shoulders.

"Dude," Matt said, grinning back. "Nice."

"Told you I could skate," Quinn said cockily.

"I never thought you couldn't," Matt laughed. "Mack's the one you need to convince."

"I don't have any interest in trying to convince Logan of anything," Quinn told him in a dry voice.

Puddles splashed beneath their wheels.

Matt said, "You know, my parents let me use their video camera, and Logan and me take it to the skate park a lot. I could film you sometime, if you want."

"What for?" Quinn asked curiously, shaking pale wet hair out of his eyes.

Matt shrugged and rode around a damp newspaper in the gutter. "It's pretty cool to watch yourself skate. And I'm making this video. But I wouldn't have to put you in it if you didn't want."

Quinn was quiet for a while, and then he said, "Yeah, that'd be cool. We should do that."

"Sweet."

Quinn followed Matt up into his driveway. As Matt kicked his board up into his hand, Quinn stared up at Matt's house.

"What?" Matt asked, nudging Quinn's shoulder teasingly.

"You live here?"

Matt rolled his eyes. "No, I brought you to a stranger's house for the shits and giggles. Breaking and entering is always a good time."

Quinn made a face at him, pale brows scrunching, lips pulling down. "You never told me you were rich."

Matt shrugged. "We're not rich."

"Dude," Quinn said incredulously. He pointed at the manicured hedges and landscaped yard, glistening now in the rain. "Rich." The sweeping, pillar-flanked entrance. "Rich." The broad stretch of the two wings of the building and the high, arched windows, in an expansive gesture. "Clearly rich."