(excerpt)
Zack slips expertly off the back of his skateboard and it flies away into the grass. He shoves his chest out and walks right into Craig, bouncing him back in a forceful chest-bump, then grabs him tightly by the arms and pulls him into his face. Opening his mouth like a fish and tilting his head to the side, he lets out a raucous belch, all the air shoved out of his guts right into Craig’s face: French fries, Coke, pizza and that funky unidentifiable odor of a 19 year old.
“You’re so fucking faggoty, Craig!”, he snarls, then pouts his lips out like some emo porn star, his black lanky hair down in his eyes and trailing down the back of his neck in what could only be described as a Goth mullet.
Craig, in cutoff khakis and sunburst tie-dye T-shirt, smears his hands across his face in feigned disgust.
“Gross, you asshole!” He shakes his head and his blonde locks bounce around his head like springy antennae.
“Where the fuck have you been? I’ve been waiting for you forever.”
Retrieving his skateboard, “Who fucking cares? I was at Jay’s trailer smoking pot.”
Craig throws his hands down by his sides. “Great! Thanks for inviting me. Why didn’t he come with you?”
“Karla was coming over to see him, I don’t know.”
Zack sits down on his skateboard and hangs his jet bangs down in his face, his red lips forming the words.
“He said we can come over later, if we want.”
“Cool. I guess.” Craig sits down on the pavement, facing Zack and slides the toes of his sneakers under the skateboard. “Did they say they could get some weed?”
“Yeah, fag, they have it already!”
“Stop calling me a fag, you hypocrite.” Craig shoves Zack off the skateboard backwards into the grass. “You look more like a fag than me!”
He crawls on top of Zack, his blond locks bouncing down over his face. Zack’s jet black bangs have fallen over the top of his head, and his deep, beautiful dilated brown eyes are both enraged and bewildered by loads of pot.
Craig sticks out his tongue and allows a viscous stream of spit to roll down off of it towards Zack’s face, then rapidly sucks it back into his mouth. There is a brief pause and the empty park seems caught in slow motion, even the birds chirp slower.
“What if I kissed you right now, right here?”
“I’d kick your fucking ass.” Zack’s voice rises, but his eyes are still the same, simultaneously languid and energized. His red lips pout even more, but his passive body suggests opportunity.
Craig leans down and puckers his lips, draws closer and closer to Zack’s face, then right as he’s almost to Zack’s lips, stops. Both of their eyes are closed. Craig can smell and feel Zack’s breath on his face. Even he knows better than to do this here… even in this empty park so late in the day, so he bends closer and presses his nose against Zack’s forehead, and inhales long, sensually, taking in every sweaty pheromone.
“Fuck, I hate this place!”
“Yeah…” Zack, utterly calmed now and strangely tender, delicately nuzzles back, then surprisingly gives Craig a quick peck on the mouth. “We’re gonna get our asses kicked,” he whispers, “but I don’t give a fuck. Let’s go back to Fuller.” And flashes a wicked grin.
“Okay, fag.” Craig mocks.
But they don’t make it back to the dorm. By the time they start walking, the summer dusk has settled and the light has started to dramatically fade, and as they pass an overgrown azalea bush, Zack pulls Craig… or Craig pulls Zack… the action is so fluid and undefined...and they are suddenly tucked inside it’s boughs like a little cave a foliage and their lips latch onto each other and they are sloppily making out like real lovers.
Zack drops his skateboard and moves his hands up Craig’s back and digs his fingers deep into Craig’s curls and pulls his face in tighter, their lips almost painfully squishing together. Craig hugs Zack’s thin waist against his, their hard dicks pushed against each other, and his heart is pounding. He slides his hands down the back of Zack’s shorts and feels his soft butt muscles and whimpers.
Suddenly, the make-out stops and they stand together in the bushes, holding each other, panting and heaving, eyes still closed, now even more sweaty in the steamy summer heat, coming back to reality. A few fireflies begin flashing in the depths of the bushes.
“This is so fucked up,” Craig whispers.
“Yeah,” answers Zack. “REALLY fucked up!”
