Denim Jackets and Good Intentions

Chapter One

The music played through the speakers overhead, crackling with age. A youthful man with a butterscotch shaded complexion walked away from the little cutout window by the concession stand, grabbing a pair of skates that had been sitting on the old bench where a young girl spilled soda not even an hour earlier. A good percentage of it was now permanently uninhabitable and sticky, not even the strongest of solvents able to penetrate it, as if any of the employees had even tried to clean it yet. He sat down on the other end, sweeping off the chipping paint with a sigh. Tossing his shoes aside, he pulled on the roller skates, a solid blue color with one stroke of white on each side, and tugged the laces tight. They were the ones with two rows of wheels, he preferred them over the blades.

A pair of captivated verdant eyes watched the brunet lace up the skates, body bent forward and leg crossed over the other as he tied them, oblivious to the eyes on him. Eric had been here a few nights ago with some friends to skate, or rather, watch the high-ponytailed chicks skate, when he had first noticed him. He was nimble with his movements, each stroke and turn pulling Eric further out of his own mind, only reminded of where he was when his buddies were able to snap him out of it. He didn't know the other's name, but what he did know was that the dude was good, Hell, he was great at it. He'd come here the past few nights to check in on his new favorite in the rink.

Amy Bennett worked the concession stand, she had long, straight blond hair and the blue in her eyes was mixed with grey, but none of that really mattered when the metal of her braces blinded Eric any time he neared her. She always blabbed on about how she hated her braces, how bulky and annoying they were, and she wasn't wrong, either. Eric usually pretended to be interested to not hurt her feelings, but it got harder the more her words became jumbled with each second. Lisa Allen liked it here too, and Eric found himself watching her almost as much as he watched Mystery Boy. She had dark brown feathered hair, and she was almost always wearing a colorful turtleneck shirt and light pink lipstick. Her favorite jeans were the flared ones that were extra tight around her hips, Eric liked them too, probably more than she did.

But this boy, he was the one to catch Eric's interest that night, and ever since.

They didn't go to the same school, so the blond wondered idly if he lived over by Laurel Canyon, or maybe he was a little more high class in the Hills. He looked like it. The two times Eric had seen him, he would be wearing nice, button up cashmere sweaters and what looked like the same pair of khaki colored pants that tapered open as one's eyes traveled down the length of the legs. He had brown-rimmed glasses like the style that Eric's father sported, too big for his face but not taking away from his features too much.

His lips were a light shade of pink that mimicked cotton candy, a contrast from the slightly differing tint that the rest of his face was. His nose slightly pointed downwards, the curved bridge more evident when he was turned to the side. Eric brought a hand up and gently scratched his nose, almost bashfully. It was slightly crooked, indefinitely altered from a fight he'd gotten into a few years back. Some low-life had called his little brother a barrage of names, so naturally, he shut that down pretty quickly. When the boy stood, Eric perked up and chuckled softly at how the skates made Mystery Boy look a couple of inches taller. He was thin, but buff underneath the sweater, seeming to fit into it with just enough wiggle room.

He was handsome.

Eric looked down and away when the boy rolled past him and entered the ring, a bright smile stretched across those salmon shaded lips. The blond glanced up quickly and followed him with his eyes, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He knew he was playing a risky game. If anyone caught him staring, he'd end up like John Miller, the kid that got hooked up by his ankle to the back of a pickup and dragged through the mud for a few miles. The last anyone heard, the dude was in the hospital, barely clinging on.