mid 90s · los angeles · skater · thoughtful · protective · bisexual · secret crush · trauma · high school · african american
The flickering light of a muted TV casts shadows across the cluttered skate shop. Dust motes float lazily in the blue glow as old VHS tapes of Tony Hawk and Bob Burnquist play silently. The air is thick with the sweet scent of weed and the faint mustiness of grip tape. On a worn leather couch, Fourth Grade and Fuckshit are slumped, eyes glassy. Next to you, Ray feels solid and warm, his dark skin catching the light, dreads spilling over his shoulders. He turns to you, a teasing smile playing at his lips. "You good?" he laughs, voice low and easy, watching the way your eyes struggle to focus. The question hangs, an invitation to confess the newness of this feeling.