Urban Catalyst
I imported this from my old LJ account. Originally dated Aug. 6, 2008.
I thought I had seen it all at what the city called a "skate park". A couple graffiti'd ramps and scarred iron railings. That was all it was. A skate park? Pfft. It didn't even have any quarter pipes, but most of the city's decent skaters hung out here because it beat the streets and definitely the backyard. Without it, we'd be tearing up the city; they would call us another catalyst of urban decay. Some people, mainly tourists and other outsiders, found beauty within the deterioration, but all I saw were blackened sidewalks, fulsome hobos, a miasma of smog, and piles upon piles of trash. But maybe we were also classified as city trash. I knew some people certainly thought so.
So we all thought we had seen it all, but just as scientists discovered new species of living organisms every so often, I found my own new, colorful creature. She stood out against us guys, even when she skated, weaving in and around us. Most of us stared at her, wondering where she came from and who she might have arrived with.
"Did you see that?" My buddy, Jon, nudged me.
"You mean the girl?" I asked.
"Yeah, she does a wicked pop shove it."
"Anyone can do a pop shove it."
"But she's so good at it."
"You think it's amazing simply because she's a girl." Jon shrugged. "Do you know if she came with anyone?"
"Yeah." He pointed at four guys. "Aaron and David."
My heart sank. Aaron and David were younger than Jon and me, but they were good, like hardcore-skater good. You didn't talk to them about random crap; they came here to skate, so if you spoke to them, you discussed skating, naturally--and maybe smoking. I had never talked to them, let alone made eye contact, but from what I heard, mainly from Jon, who skated with them once, they were chill but dead serious about skating. I couldn't go up to them and ask about the girl because that was tacitly restricted. I couldn't approach the girl either because a) I didn't want to risk a fight with Aaron or David, in case she "belonged" to either of them and b) I was a girl/make-out dwarf.
Most girls didn't expect sixteen-year-old guys to be sex gods, but they assumed that we knew how to kiss properly, which, by the way, I had no knowledge of. At parties Jon introduced me to girls and initiated coversations for me, and each time I thought I was doing well, I'd screw up somehow. Usually I said something stupid, or I acted so astute, I sounded like a smart ass. I also messed up the few times when luck rolled my way. One time I bit a girl's tongue while we made out, and I squeezed another girl's breast so hard that she screamed and slapped me.
I wanted to put those things behind me and make myself believe I could speak to the girl, even if it resulted in a quarrel with Aaron or David. If I did it, I would finally prove to myself that I might not be a girl/make-out dwarf after all. Either I did it now, while she sat alone on a stone bench at the side of the skate park, or I would never be able to do it. Other guys might approach her, and I-- I needed to stop think about it and just do it.
From far away she appeared to have jet black hair and dark brown eyes, but when I sat down and glanced at her, I realized her eyes were actually hazel. She smiled at me, and I felt the corners of my lips turn up a bit. From the corner of my eye, I watched her nice legs, crossing and uncrossing. She wore those skinny jeans most girls--and some guys--had nowadays, but if she wore shorts or a skirt, I bet her legs would look great. I forced myself to tear my eyes away from her legs and set them on her face instead.
"So," I said. She turned her body toward me and returned the gaze. "What kind of board do you have?"
She flipped it over and showed me the graphics on the bottom of the deck. "An Enjoi."
"Lots of girls have Enjoi decks."
I didn't know any girl skaters, but I heard countless guys complain about the "gay" Enjoi panda. Apparently they were popular among girls, though.
She shrugged. "My friend, David, gave me the board after he bought a new one."
"Oh."
I glanced at Jon, who shook his head and grinned impishly when he spotted me.
"I'm Travis, by the way."
"Steph." She smiled. "I was watching you skate earlier."
"You were?"
"Yeah, you messed up the tre flip."
Heat rose to my cheeks, and Steph laughed at my apparent embarrassment. She set her hand on my arm as she did so, her hazel eyes squinting from the smile. A goofy grin slid across my face, and I began to feel more relaxed.
"It's funny when you blush because your neck turns red, too," she pointed out.
"My neck? How come nobody told me before? I could only feel the heat in my face."
"It's really cute," she said softly.
I smiled a little, and she squeezed my arm.
"Do you think you're good at skating?"
I shrugged. "I'm okay. David and Aaron are better."
Her gaze softened. "You shouldn't compare yourself to them."
"But everything is relative," I argued. "How do I know whether I'm good or not if I don't compare my skills to theirs?"
My voice sounded loud in comparison to the constant clacking of wood against cement, but nobody glanced at our direction. Steph was quiet, and she had removed her hand from my arm.
"There will always be someone better than you," she murmured.
"But I'm just as good as the rest of this city's trash."
She shook her head. "Don't say that."
"I already did."
A somber expression settled on Steph's face. Her lips were parted, as though she wanted to say something.
After a long pause, she muttered, "You're not like the others."
I glanced at her disconcertingly. "What others?" I was beginning to feel annoyed, but she still looked so pretty.
"The other guys." She gazed at the scene in front of us. "The city trash."
I didn't really know what happened, but suddenly her lips crashed against mine, both hungry and thirsty for the little I had to offer. As she grabbed the sides of my face with her warm, soft hands, I placed mine on her waist. Steph thrust her body closer to mine, her small chest rubbing up against me. I slid one of my hands on her leg, and she led it to the higher, inner part of her thigh. My insides burned with passion; I wanted Steph more than any other girl I had seen or touched.
Nobody stopped us as I expected, but when I pressed my lips harder against hers, gums meeting teeth, she pulled back quickly. Then I realized why. A dribble of blood oozed down from her bottle lip to her chin, and I tasted the metallic flavor on my own lips. I was doing fine, and I just had to bite her.
I reached out to wipe the blood away, but she raised her hand to her mouth before I could do anything.
"I'm really sorry," I said.
She shook her head and waved me away.
"I--I better go," I stuttered, walking briskly toward Jon.
As we left the skate park, he said, "You two looked like you were having a great time. Why didn't you say good bye to her when we passed by?"
"I already did," I lied.
I regretted not telling her goodbye because she didn't return the next day. The guys wondered why, but only I knew. It didn't seem as though her friends had any idea either, and that was fine with me. Part of me wished for her to stop by again, and another part didn't want to deal with the humiliation. But with her gone, trash was all that remained.
I thought I had seen it all at what the city called a "skate park". A couple graffiti'd ramps and scarred iron railings. That was all it was. A skate park? Pfft. It didn't even have any quarter pipes, but most of the city's decent skaters hung out here because it beat the streets and definitely the backyard. Without it, we'd be tearing up the city; they would call us another catalyst of urban decay. Some people, mainly tourists and other outsiders, found beauty within the deterioration, but all I saw were blackened sidewalks, fulsome hobos, a miasma of smog, and piles upon piles of trash. But maybe we were also classified as city trash. I knew some people certainly thought so.
So we all thought we had seen it all, but just as scientists discovered new species of living organisms every so often, I found my own new, colorful creature. She stood out against us guys, even when she skated, weaving in and around us. Most of us stared at her, wondering where she came from and who she might have arrived with.
"Did you see that?" My buddy, Jon, nudged me.
"You mean the girl?" I asked.
"Yeah, she does a wicked pop shove it."
"Anyone can do a pop shove it."
"But she's so good at it."
"You think it's amazing simply because she's a girl." Jon shrugged. "Do you know if she came with anyone?"
"Yeah." He pointed at four guys. "Aaron and David."
My heart sank. Aaron and David were younger than Jon and me, but they were good, like hardcore-skater good. You didn't talk to them about random crap; they came here to skate, so if you spoke to them, you discussed skating, naturally--and maybe smoking. I had never talked to them, let alone made eye contact, but from what I heard, mainly from Jon, who skated with them once, they were chill but dead serious about skating. I couldn't go up to them and ask about the girl because that was tacitly restricted. I couldn't approach the girl either because a) I didn't want to risk a fight with Aaron or David, in case she "belonged" to either of them and b) I was a girl/make-out dwarf.
Most girls didn't expect sixteen-year-old guys to be sex gods, but they assumed that we knew how to kiss properly, which, by the way, I had no knowledge of. At parties Jon introduced me to girls and initiated coversations for me, and each time I thought I was doing well, I'd screw up somehow. Usually I said something stupid, or I acted so astute, I sounded like a smart ass. I also messed up the few times when luck rolled my way. One time I bit a girl's tongue while we made out, and I squeezed another girl's breast so hard that she screamed and slapped me.
I wanted to put those things behind me and make myself believe I could speak to the girl, even if it resulted in a quarrel with Aaron or David. If I did it, I would finally prove to myself that I might not be a girl/make-out dwarf after all. Either I did it now, while she sat alone on a stone bench at the side of the skate park, or I would never be able to do it. Other guys might approach her, and I-- I needed to stop think about it and just do it.
From far away she appeared to have jet black hair and dark brown eyes, but when I sat down and glanced at her, I realized her eyes were actually hazel. She smiled at me, and I felt the corners of my lips turn up a bit. From the corner of my eye, I watched her nice legs, crossing and uncrossing. She wore those skinny jeans most girls--and some guys--had nowadays, but if she wore shorts or a skirt, I bet her legs would look great. I forced myself to tear my eyes away from her legs and set them on her face instead.
"So," I said. She turned her body toward me and returned the gaze. "What kind of board do you have?"
She flipped it over and showed me the graphics on the bottom of the deck. "An Enjoi."
"Lots of girls have Enjoi decks."
I didn't know any girl skaters, but I heard countless guys complain about the "gay" Enjoi panda. Apparently they were popular among girls, though.
She shrugged. "My friend, David, gave me the board after he bought a new one."
"Oh."
I glanced at Jon, who shook his head and grinned impishly when he spotted me.
"I'm Travis, by the way."
"Steph." She smiled. "I was watching you skate earlier."
"You were?"
"Yeah, you messed up the tre flip."
Heat rose to my cheeks, and Steph laughed at my apparent embarrassment. She set her hand on my arm as she did so, her hazel eyes squinting from the smile. A goofy grin slid across my face, and I began to feel more relaxed.
"It's funny when you blush because your neck turns red, too," she pointed out.
"My neck? How come nobody told me before? I could only feel the heat in my face."
"It's really cute," she said softly.
I smiled a little, and she squeezed my arm.
"Do you think you're good at skating?"
I shrugged. "I'm okay. David and Aaron are better."
Her gaze softened. "You shouldn't compare yourself to them."
"But everything is relative," I argued. "How do I know whether I'm good or not if I don't compare my skills to theirs?"
My voice sounded loud in comparison to the constant clacking of wood against cement, but nobody glanced at our direction. Steph was quiet, and she had removed her hand from my arm.
"There will always be someone better than you," she murmured.
"But I'm just as good as the rest of this city's trash."
She shook her head. "Don't say that."
"I already did."
A somber expression settled on Steph's face. Her lips were parted, as though she wanted to say something.
After a long pause, she muttered, "You're not like the others."
I glanced at her disconcertingly. "What others?" I was beginning to feel annoyed, but she still looked so pretty.
"The other guys." She gazed at the scene in front of us. "The city trash."
I didn't really know what happened, but suddenly her lips crashed against mine, both hungry and thirsty for the little I had to offer. As she grabbed the sides of my face with her warm, soft hands, I placed mine on her waist. Steph thrust her body closer to mine, her small chest rubbing up against me. I slid one of my hands on her leg, and she led it to the higher, inner part of her thigh. My insides burned with passion; I wanted Steph more than any other girl I had seen or touched.
Nobody stopped us as I expected, but when I pressed my lips harder against hers, gums meeting teeth, she pulled back quickly. Then I realized why. A dribble of blood oozed down from her bottle lip to her chin, and I tasted the metallic flavor on my own lips. I was doing fine, and I just had to bite her.
I reached out to wipe the blood away, but she raised her hand to her mouth before I could do anything.
"I'm really sorry," I said.
She shook her head and waved me away.
"I--I better go," I stuttered, walking briskly toward Jon.
As we left the skate park, he said, "You two looked like you were having a great time. Why didn't you say good bye to her when we passed by?"
"I already did," I lied.
I regretted not telling her goodbye because she didn't return the next day. The guys wondered why, but only I knew. It didn't seem as though her friends had any idea either, and that was fine with me. Part of me wished for her to stop by again, and another part didn't want to deal with the humiliation. But with her gone, trash was all that remained.