Page 25 of Jagged

"Later," peeped Tati, gulping after.

Wyatt just stared, pale-faced and horrified.

I snickered as I dropped in, then rolled away from putting my two friends on blast.

When I turned back, their body language completely changed. They sat angled toward each other, with Tatiana anxiously tucking her hair behind her ear, and Wyatt's narrowed shoulders much more relaxed than before. I couldn't keep the smile from my face as I kick-flipped my way down the flight of stairs.

We spent most of the afternoon in fluid rotations of talking and skating. Tatiana watched Wyatt's tricks with the intense attention of someone beyond smitten. It was a different thing to fall for someone who was a long-time friend. Not that I would know personally, but from what I've seen in others. All of a sudden, they begin looking at each other differently. It could've been ten years of friendship, then one day things change and the way their eyes meet becomes some kind of twinkling moment. Tati's eyes glistened with enjoyment as she watched Wyatt bail on his boardslide and take a graceful tumble. She didn't panic for him as if she knew he'd done it on purpose. Which he had. Because Wyatt would never bail on a simple slide like that. Sweat beaded his brow after a while, and he lifted his shirt to wipe his face. In revealing his taut stomach, we also caught a glimpse of the healed scarification that peeked out above his pelvic bone. Wyatt wore his number one talent on his skin and on paper for others at the tattoo shop. Tatiana saw it all over the years, but now, she seemed much more attentive.

When I planted myself by the bench again for a drink, Tatiana smiled up at me.

"Smitten," I said. "He ask you out?" I glanced over to make sure Wyatt still rode a few yards away.

She nodded, her gaze flickering in his direction. "Tomorrow night after work. Can you pick up groceries—"

"Of course. Pajama party for one." I grinned at the thought. "I'll buy me mac and cheese. The golden shells kind."

Tatiana laughed hard. "Gross."

"Listen. I have few indulgences in this life—"

"You have about twelve." She scowled and pointed at my energy drink. "Caffeine."

"Yeah, and that's—"

"Cheese. Of all kinds—"

"So what?"

"Soda—"

"It's not that bad—"

"Skateboarding—"

"Hey now…"

"And the seventy cans of spray paint in the attic." She cocked a brow at me, and I laughed. "I'm not wrong."

"No." I smirked and shoved her shoulder. "You're not." I looked over to Wyatt as he launched himself onto a tall rail. "I'm gonna bail and leave you two here awkwardly alone, cool?"

"Yeah." She snickered. "No complaints. You going to Jordan's?"

"Yeah. Gotta manage this undergrowth. It's awful." I ran my fingers through my hair then tossed it all over to one side. "Look."

"Help." Tati gasped, clutching her chest. "Send help."

I laughed and shoved her shoulder. "Later." I whistled and Wyatt looked up from his coasting through the bowl. "I'm peacin'."

"Later!" he shouted, then saluted me.

I waved, then hopped on my board to head out.

The salon wasn't far. Most places where we all hung out tended to be within walking distance. The Mermaid Salon, Wildrose, The Crystal Mug Café, and now the new Painted Mug. Queer landmarks popped up all over Seattle these days, and I was here for it.

I found Jordan in the salon, quiet in the late afternoon of a Friday, standing with Finnley by one of the chairs. Riley sat in the chair, and Jordan instructed Finn on how to use the electric razor. Riley's bright smile radiated in the mirror as he watched his friend learn. He didn't seem to harbor any fear about Finn shaving off his messy locks.

"So just curve?" asked Finn.

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