Wendy starts having second thoughts about all of this.

She wipes the sweat off her forehead with the sleeve of her plaid shirt, the noon sun burning down a blazing trail on her neck. She squints across the skate park, the hot asphalt creating a mirage before her very eyes.

Not a soul in sight. Not in this hell of a heat.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

And now her arm cast feels stifling and itchy. She starts picking at the fraying fiberglass.

“I’m this close to breaking this cast off." Wendy drawls out, distracted. "It’s itchy as .”

“Don’t you dare.”

The girl casts a sheepish, apologetic glance at her companion. Among the cracked, shining concrete, Irene is beautiful. Ripped jeans. Loose tank top. A faded nike cap on top of a messy ponytail. Despite her snarky tone, the look Irene gives her is unbelievably soft and open.

Wendy swallows and looks away, afraid of being caught staring.

“You’re lucky I’m even letting you do this.” Irene snips, flipping her hair as she carefully adjusts the camera on top of the stabilizer. “Imagine if your mom finds out.”

Wendy lets out a low whine. “Geez, it’s been more than a month! I've got some thick bones. I can handle this.”

“I know.” Irene smiles despite herself. She lazily rolls her skateboard- its deck chipped and scratched- beneath her washed-out vans. “After all, with that thick skull of yours-”

“Hey!”

“I meant that as a compliment!”

Even Irene’s laughter is beautiful, as it echoes across the empty park. Wendy’s cheeks burn and burn and burn.

“So, are you ready or not? Time is ticking.”

“Right, okay. Yeah. Sure. I got this.” Wendy takes a deep breath, fixing her beanie over her damp hair. Anxiety and adrenaline rushes between her ears, drowning everything out. She tests her trucks one last time, the board creaking underneath her feet.

“I’m ready.”

And so the next hour is a blur, mixed in dirt-covered knees, wheels against concrete and sun sweat. Wendy tries every trick in her arsenal: the 360 flip she’s been practicing for two weeks. A messy backside air that almost costs her another arm. She is most of all crazy proud of a smith grind she pulls off last-minute along a rough, sloping rail. All throughout, Irene follows, recording every cruise and slide and slip.

“!”

So it was inevitable, really. Wendy finds herself staring at the blinding sky, sprawled on the scorching, rough pavement after a nasty spill. The sting of gravel against the bloody, raw skin of her elbow blows out her senses.

Irene is by her side instantly. Breath hot against her face. The camera lies forgotten on the ground.

“You okay?! Wendy?”

Irene- beautiful, wonderful Irene- swims in and out of her vision. She closes her eyes, overwhelmed. Truthfully, Wendy doesn’t know if she’s more dazed because of the fall, or of Irene being so, so close. Maybe it’s both.

“I’m more than alright,” she finally murmurs a breath later, blonde-brown locks plastered across her sweat-covered forehead. She cracks open an eye and smiles at Irene unabashedly. “You totally swept me off my feet, by the way. You’re an angel.”

Irene scoffs, shoving the younger woman lightly as she rolls her eyes. “Gravity didn’t knock the greasiness out of you, it seems. Too bad.”

“But you love me for it,” Wendy grins, before grimacing in pain. “Okay, . This is gonna sting like a tomorrow morning, I’m dead sure.”

Irene gracefully gets up to her feet, and offers a hand. The skateboarder accepts it gingerly. She can already see the worry lining the edges of the other girl’s face as she notices the blood. Wendy softens at the sight.

“I’m sorry, unnie. I'm okay. That was my last trick