Chapter Text
Art by blue-the-bluest. (Thanks for giving me permission to use your beautiful art.)
Bradley stared at the canvases that filled his large sunlit room, a summer's worth of drawings and paintings. He'd always been drawn to people, finding landscapes less compelling. This summer nearly every brushstroke had been dedicated to his mother. He traced a finger over the bald head in one portrait. Long, difficult months spent accompanying her to chemotherapy, watching helplessly as she grew weaker with each passing week. The thought of returning to State College after being her sole companion for so long felt like an impossible task.
A soft knock interrupted his thoughts, and his mother walked in, her head uncovered. There were no wigs or bandanas now. He had made sure she knew she was beautiful, hair or not.
"Still staring at your masterpieces?" she asked, a gentle smile on her lips.
He sighed, turning from the canvases. "Just thinking."
"About what?" she prompted, moving closer.
He looked at her, a knot tightening in his stomach. "About leaving. I just… I wish I didn't have to."
She reached out, her hand resting warmly on his arm. "Oh, honey. I'm going to be fine, you know that." She squeezed his arm. "Besides, I've already got us covered." She picked up his brand new phone: the groundbreaking Ericsson R380. His dad had raved about it for a whole year, as his company was one of the first to finance its creation. He'd even referred to it as a "smartphone" back at the beginning of summer and managed to get him and his mom the phones before the official release.
Bradley was impressed with the new phone. Most kids at State College barely had basic Nokia bricks for emergency calls, if they had a phone at all. But this… this was something else. He flipped open the keypad, revealing the large, monochrome touchscreen display. It felt futuristic, like something out of a spy movie. He and his mom could actually send emails from this phone. And it had an organizer and voice dial. No more frantic searches for payphones or waiting until he got back to his dorm to check messages. Now, they could truly stay in touch, even with the distance between them.
His mom walked over to a canvas propped against the wall, her gaze softening. It was a painting of her in their mansion's garden, bathed in moonlight, an elegant evening dress flowing around her as she held a glass of wine. "Is this the last one you were working on?" she murmured. He hadn't quite finished it, but he could see in her eyes that she liked it, perhaps even loved it. He'd inherited his passion for art from her; they used to spend hours drawing and painting together in their shared world of color and imagination.
It was a much different than his father's world. Bradley wasn't much for extreme sports, but he'd joined the X-Games because his staunch baby boomer dad wanted him to excel in something "manly." His father was a man who lived by the creed of get a job, marry young, bear a child, preferably a son, teach him the ropes, and demand he repeats the cycle. He didn't think much of Bradley's artistic talent. Art was a hobby and a pleasant pastime, but certainly not a path to a respectable future.
His dad had insisted that he major in business, the path laid out for him to eventually inherit the family company. This meant relentless pressure on his grades. "Don't waste time on trivialities like frat parties and college experimenting," his dad would warn. Bradley often wondered how his dad would react if he ever learned about the very same activities Bradley had indulged in in a shady motel room far away from his radar with one of his fraternity men.
"Speaking of the devil," he muttered under his breath when his dad walked into the room, already pointing at his watch and urging him to hurry. The only things Bradley seemed to have inherited from the man were his good looks and lean physique, but none of his rigid personality.
"You could have used your summer for something more useful for your senior year, Bradley," he lectured, his gaze sweeping over the canvases with a headshake.
"What if I told you I'm going to join an art club this year?" Bradley glanced at his mom. "Would that make you happy?"
She smiled warmly. "Anything that makes you happy makes me happy, sweetheart."
"Just don't give up on the X-Games this year," his dad cut in. "Too bad you lost last year. You would have had a great record winning all four years of college, but if you win this year, it would at least salvage last year's humiliation, and you'd finish your college education with a win."
Last year's X-Games still stung. Bradley had lost to the insignificant freshman who hadn't just stolen his glory, but also his best friend, Tank. Bradley had worked hard to be good at skateboarding, which he felt wasn't enough, so he'd always relied on cheating to win, but Max's natural talent for extreme sports had wiped the floor with him. He'd earned the judges' respect by winning and saving Tank, whom Bradley had left to fend for himself.
The sting of losing to an eighteen-year-old nobody had been overshadowed by his mom's illness all summer. But with his return to college approaching, and his dad's expectation that he'd win the X-Games this year, Bradley's hatred for Max Goof was about to intensify. Without Tank on his team, he had no idea how he'd pull off a victory. He wouldn't even be surprised if Tank joined Max's team. Bradley knew he needed to find a way to win, and more importantly to rub it in Max's face.
"I won't let you down, Dad," he promised weakly, and then turned to his mom with a more confident smile touching his lips. "And if there's an art exhibit, I'll make sure my work is there. I won't let you down, Mom."
She smiled. "To be honest, dear, I'd rather you find that special someone and maybe I could see your child sooner than later."
He hated when she talked like that, the unspoken implication that she was leaving soon, that she wanted to see him settled before she died. He hugged her close, burying his face in her shoulder, and silently prayed to whatever higher power might be listening to keep his mother alive and healthy for years and years to come.
~*~*~*~*~
His senior year was off to a good start. His business classes weren't the dry lectures he'd anticipated. Instead, his professors focused on real-world case studies and engaging group projects, making the material feel relevant and almost enjoyable.
He was back in the Gamma fraternity house, surrounded by his teammates. Everyone was there, everyone except Tank. Bradley had spotted him a couple of times on campus, once near the student union, another time leaving the library, but he'd never dared to speak, the awkwardness of their last encounter was too raw to confront.
He paused in front of a brightly decorated table in the student union, a hand-painted sign above it proclaiming "Campus Creatives Art Club – Join Us!" His dad's disapproval made him hesitate a bit, making him feel almost guilty to pursue something he actually enjoyed.
A girl sat behind the table with her head bent over a sketchpad. When he approached, she looked up and he could see her more clearly. She had short brown hair that framed her beautiful blue eyes, and her open smile revealed the cutest buck teeth.
"Thinking of gracing us with your artistic presence?" she joked. "Or just admiring my flawless handwriting on the sign-up sheet?"
He smiled. "Uh, signing up, actually. Bradley." He extended a hand.
"I know you," she said, taking his hand. "You're the X-Games champion for two years running."
"Yeah," he mumbled, bracing himself, expecting the inevitable mention of last year's humiliating defeat.
"I'm an avid follower of the X-Games. I enjoy extreme sports."
That makes one of us, he thought dryly.
"Mona," she introduced herself, gesturing to the sign-up sheet. "Full name, major, dorm room number, and email – if you have one. Any particular medium you're obsessed with? We have everything from finger painting to advanced charcoal."
"Drawing and painting, mostly people," he replied, picking up a pen. "And business, unfortunately, for the major." He saw her eyebrow quirk.
"Ah, the classic artistic soul trapped in a corporate cage narrative," she said, nodding sagely. "We get a lot of those. Don't worry, we're a safe space for rebellious creativity." She leaned forward slightly. "Want to see some of my latest escapes?" Without waiting for an answer, she slid a portfolio across the table.
He saw a collection of small, intimate sketches and watercolors greeted him. There was a drawing of a forgotten coffee cup on a windowsill, steam still curling faintly; a quick sketch of an old woman laughing over a grocery cart; a pair of worn-out sneakers tied with mismatched laces. They weren't grand landscapes or dramatic portraits, but each piece hummed with a quiet observation, capturing tiny, easily overlooked moments.
"These are really beautiful, Mona. You really capture the essence of everyday life."
"Thanks. I love finding the magic in the mundane, those little flashes of beauty we rush past every day. What about you, since you mostly do people? What draws you to them?"
Bradley thought for a moment, then looked up, meeting her gaze. "I guess I try to capture what makes each person unique, that spark or emotion that makes them who they are. The beauty in their expressions and their gestures. It's like trying to show the world what I see in them."
Mona's eyes seemed to light up. "Seeing the unseen, right? Whether it's a person's gaze or the way the light hits a forgotten object, it's about seeing something deeper and trying to translate that. I think we're going to get along just fine, Bradley." She grinned, and he felt a sense of ease he hadn't experienced in months.
~*~*~*~*~
Teams milled about in the outdoor gymnasium, stretching and adjusting gear. Surrounded by his Gamma teammates, Bradley felt a knot tighten in his stomach. His gaze swept the crowd, snagging on the yellow and blue colors of Max Goof's team. There he was laughing easily with his two loser friends.
He noticed that Tank wasn't with them. A fleeting sense of relief quickly replaced by a fresh wave of resentment. He focused on the burning desire to wipe that smug grin off Max's face.
The teams began to warm up, some taking to the ramps, others practicing tricks on flat ground. Bradley watched Max launching himself onto the largest ramp, executing a series of gravity-defying stunts that drew gasps and cheers from the scattered onlookers. How could someone so seemingly carefree move like he was born on a board?
"Look at him," one of Bradley's teammates, James, muttered beside him, shaking his head in grudging admiration. "He must be ripped to pull off those stunts."
Bradley scoffed, though a part of him knew James was right. He felt the familiar ache of inadequacy, seeing the difference between Max's natural athletic prowess and his own forced, often cheated, victories. He had to win this year. He had to. Not just for his dad, but to prove to himself that he still had what it took. Even without Tank. Even without cheating.
He strode toward the ramp, James at his side, casually sipping from a can of cola. Suddenly, Max skated past them in a blur so quick that James tossed his can. The cola arced through the air, splashing onto Bradley's shirt.
"Damn it," he griped, resentment bubbling up. Did every year have to start with Max spilling something on his clothes?
Max glided over on his skateboard, a hint of a laugh playing on his lips as he offered a casual apology. "Whoops, my bad, dude. Didn't see you there."
Bradley ripped off his cola-soaked shirt, tossing it to the ground. "You clumsy jerk!" he yelled, marching shirtless towards Max. He stopped abruptly, inches from Max's face, their eyes locking. The shorter boy's gaze dropped, lingering on Bradley's bare chest. A subtle flush crept up his face, and his breath hitched almost faintly. Bradley felt a sudden, unexpected warmth in the air between them. Inside, a smirk spread across his mind. Max found him attractive. He hadn't known Goof boy was into guys. Come to think of it, Max hadn't dated any girls last year, though he had hit on a number of them and was popular among almost the entire female population at State College. Yet, he hadn't gone out with any of them.
This attraction could be used as a weapon. He'd use it to win.
He pushed Max back, a sneer twisting his lips. "You know, you've got a lot of nerve. Maybe try showing some respect."
Max stumbled back a step, his eyes narrowing, the flush on his neck deepening, but this time with anger. "Respect? You want respect, Brad? The guy who got rid of PJ right before the final race, trapped Bobby in a mud puddle, and then almost killed me last year? The same guy who tried every dirty trick in the book to make me lose, and still ended up eating my dust? You don't get respect, Bradley, because you don't deserve it."
The crowd cheered and applauded him. Like a punch to Bradley's gut. He stood there, shirtless and fuming. It was bad enough losing to him, but to have the entire arena side with the sophomore was a humiliation he couldn't stand.
Just as Bradley was about to unleash another volley of insults, the announcer started speaking, "Alright, everyone! Teams, gather around! We've got some important new rules to go over for this year's X-Games! The committee has decided to make this year's X-Games a landmark event for inclusivity! This year, to qualify, every single team must include at least one female member!"
A stunned silence fell over the gym, quickly followed by a cacophony of murmurs, groans, and outright shouts of disbelief. Bradley's jaw dropped. A girl? On his team? He exchanged bewildered glances with his Gamma teammates, their faces mirroring his own annoyance. Even at the dawn of the new millennium, girls in sports were still a relatively novel concept for many, let alone thriving in the rough-and-tumble world of extreme sports. He could count on one hand the number of girls he'd ever seen on a skateboard, let alone pulling off anything beyond a basic ollie.
"Are they serious?" James hissed, running a hand through his hair. "Where are we supposed to find some chick who can actually shred?"
Another hurdle thrown in Bradley's path to reclaiming his glory. He needed to win, to shut his dad up, to finally get one over on Max. But how was he supposed to do that with some inexperienced girl dragging his team down? He pictured some dainty cheerleader attempting a grind rail and nearly laughed at the absurdity. He scowled, his eyes darting around the room, searching for any sign of a female athlete who didn't look like she belonged in a ballet studio. The entire idea felt like a setup t to make things harder for him.
~*~*~*~*~
Bradley watched impatiently, arms crossed, as his teammates grumbled in the Gamma house backyard. "Not a single girl has shown up," Chad complained. "Are we really supposed to believe there's a senior girl out there who can actually skate?" The requirement for a senior was non-negotiable; they didn't want some fresh-faced newbie throwing off their established hierarchy.
Just as Bradley was about to declare the whole endeavor pointless, a blonde girl zipped onto their main ramp and carved a perfect line, then launched into an aerial, spinning with a grace that defied her size before landing smoothly. She executed another trick, then another, each one more impressive than the last.
He stared, momentarily stunned. "Who is that?"
The girl stopped in front of them with an eager smile on her face. "Hi! I'm Tina! I heard you guys needed a girl for the X-Games team?"
Bradley's initial awe quickly turned to an irritation. "You're good, Tina," he admitted. "But we need a senior. I don't think I've ever seen you on campus before. You're a freshman, aren't you?"
"Please, Mr. Uppercrust! I'm almost nineteen! And I've been dreaming of this my whole life! My dad and my older brother used to always taunt me about being in the X-Games when I was little, saying 'girls aren't allowed,' 'girls can't do that!' This is my chance to prove everyone wrong!" Her blue eyes pleaded with him.
He sighed, rubbing his temples. "Look, Tina, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but rules are rules. We need a senior. It's just... it's how we roll." He looked at Chad, who caught on immediately.
"Yeah, see, Tina," Chad said, stepping forward, "the Gamma initiation for freshmen is intense for guys, and a little girl like you won't handle it."
"There are naked rituals to be had," James chimed in with a smirk.
"And you have to shave your head," Slouch added, trying to keep a straight face.
Her eyes widened. "Oh. Right. That... sounds like a lot."
Bradley nodded gravely. "It is. So, maybe try out for another fraternity?" He gestured towards the gate. "Good luck with that." As Tina slowly backed away, looking bewildered, Chad and James linked arms, forming a barrier, and firmly ushered the talented freshman out of the Gamma backyard until she was out of sight.
Another female voice drifted into the backyard. "How are the auditions going, boys? Finding your extreme sports goddess?"
A happy smile spread across Bradley's face as he saw Mona approaching. "Hey," he said, his voice as his expression became softer unlike the exasperated tone he'd used just moments before. "Rough. We haven't had any luck. No skilled seniors, let alone girls."
Mona's confident smile widened. "Well, that's a shame." She walked closer. "I'd like to try out."
"Are you sure? The X-Games are pretty intense. It's nothing like art." He tried to let her down gently, picturing her delicate sketches and deep abstracts, so different from the brute force of extreme sports.
Before he could offer another hesitant word, Mona reached down and grabbed a skateboard lying near the ramp. Without a word, she hit the ramp, launching into an aerial that was so fluid it made the Gammas gasp in unison. She carved a series of grinds and slides, making the board sing beneath her feet. She moved with a natural athleticism that even rivaled Max. Bradley and his teammates watched, mouths agape, completely awestruck.
She brought the board to a stop in front of them, a bead of sweat tracing a line down her temple, her chest heaving slightly. She flashed them a knowing smile. "Oh, and by the way," she said, "I'm a senior."
In that moment, watching her stand there, radiating power and self-assurance, Bradley knew he'd just fallen in love.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Bradley lay on his bed, the new brand Ericsson R380 in his hand, its small screen glowing in the dark room. He'd just finished describing Mona's audition to his mom with a wide grin plastered across his face.
"She just picked up a board and completely blew us away," he gushed, propping himself up on an elbow. "She even taught me this insane new stunt today. It's dangerous, but it looks amazing."
He paused, waiting for his mom's usual gentle skepticism about anything dangerous. Instead, she just chuckled. "Sounds like you've found quite the teammate, dear."
"More than a teammate," he mumbled, then quickly cleared his throat, hoping she hadn't caught that. "She learned how to skate from her high school boyfriend, apparently. They broke up right after graduation. Can you believe it? Someone actually broke up with her." He shook his head in disbelief. "I mean, there's just… nothing wrong with her. She has this incredible delicate touch for drawing, those beautiful small moments she captures, those abstract pieces she loves to explain, but then she has the strength and fearlessness to pull off these crazy stunts." He traced the edge of the phone with his thumb. "She's just perfect."
He waited, half expecting his mom to tease him, but her voice was soft. "It sounds like you're very happy, Bradley. And that's all I want for you."
Bradley smiled into the phone, a warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with the X-Games. "Yeah, Mom. I really am. So, how was your day? Did you take the full dose of that anti-nausea medication? And did Dr. Evans call about the blood work from Tuesday?"
"Bradley, I'm fine. Your father surprised me with dinner in the garden tonight. He was quite taken with your last painting, the one of me. Said I talked about it endlessly, which I suppose I did." She paused, then teased, "I think he's just a little jealous of our special connection."
"I envy him. Finding the perfect person."
"You'll find your perfect person one day too, sweetheart," she said gently.
"Maybe I already have," Bradley murmured, glancing down at the sketch of Mona on his lap.
~*~*~*~*~
Palette in hand, Bradley leaned over the large canvas he and Mona had been co-creating for the past week in the art studio, an abstract piece that seemed to pulse with their combined energy. With a brush tucked behind her ear, Mona was adding a swirl of cerulean.
"You know," Bradley mused, without looking up, "this piece is starting to look like a skateboard park."
She chuckled. "Just reflecting our current obsessions. A little bit of art, a little bit of X-Games. Multitasking at its finest." She dabbed another stroke. "Though, I must say, your brushwork has gotten significantly bolder since you started spending afternoons at the ramp."
"And your land speed has quadrupled since you started critiquing my chiaroscuro," he retorted, a playful grin on his face. Their days had fallen into a rhythm: mornings in class, late afternoons at the art club, and then hours at the X-Games practice ramps. They were inseparable.
"Speaking of which," Mona said, wiping her hands on a rag. "Ready for some real art? The kind that involves gravity and broken bones?"
He laughed. "Lead the way, Picasso."
Later that afternoon, Mona stood at the crest of the biggest half-pipe. "Alright, Bradley," she called down. "Remember that Switch 360 Double Kickflip I was talking about? The one with the flip?"
Bradley's stomach did a little flip of its own. "The one you said might actually snap my ankles?"
"Minor detail!" she laughed. "Watch closely."
She pushed off, then launched herself into the air. The board spun, flipping, her body twisting in perfect sync. Then she made a clean landing. "Your turn!" she yelled, beaming.
He swallowed, feeling a surge of adrenaline mixed with a healthy dose of fear. He took a deep breath, pushed off and soared into the air, mimicking her movements, but his timing was off, his rotation incomplete. He twisted awkwardly, the board skittering out from under him. The world spun, and he crashed down hard, the concrete unforgiving against his side.
"Bradley! Are you okay?" she asked, kneeling in front of him, her hands gently touching his arm, checking for injury.
He groaned, pushing himself up onto an elbow. "Ugh, definitely felt better." But as he looked up, her face was inches from his, her blue eyes wide with worry. In that moment, the pain, the X-Games, even art class, faded away. All that mattered was her.
He reached out, his hand cupping her cheek. "Mona," he began, "I know this is probably the worst time, but… will you go out with me?"
A smile spread across her face, lighting up her eyes. "Took you long enough, Uppercrust." She leaned in as she helped him sit up.
~*~*~*~*~
The Coffee Bean was its usual dim lighting mixed with the overpowering aroma of burnt sugar and roasted coffee. On the small stage, a boy with too-tight jeans was reciting poetry. Bradley grimaced, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on Team 99, but notably, their leader Max was absent.
"This place isn't really my scene," he confessed to Mona, leaning closer so she could hear him over the snapping fingers that replaced applause. He'd winced internally when she'd suggested it, but he hadn't had the heart to say no. Not on their first date.
Mona tilted her head. "Why? What's wrong with it?"
He shrugged, trying to be casual. "Just not really a poetry fan, I guess. And all the snapping instead of clapping? It drives me nuts." He mimicked a snapping sound, exaggerating his disdain.
She laughed. "Oh, I know! It is grating. Just clap, people. Your fingers aren't going to break." She mimicked it too, even more comically than he had.
Bradley burst out laughing. Then his gaze caught the massive figure walking to the counter. The laughter died in his throat.
"Tank," Bradley breathed, feeling his body stiffen and the easy warmth of the date rapidly cooling.
She followed his gaze. "He was your best friend, right?"
He nodded, unable to tear his gaze away from the hulking figure now ordering his mocha. "Yeah. We... we had a falling out."
"I know," she said quietly, her hand gently covering his on the table. "I watched the X-Games last year."
He pulled his hand away as if burned, feeling the embarrassment wash over him. "Then why would you even want to go out with me, after knowing all the crap I pulled? How I almost... I almost got him killed."
"Because," she began, sounding slightly hesitant, "I also saw your art. Remember that first piece you showed me, the one of your mother? It was so honest and full of love. That's the Bradley I see. The one who creates beauty, not just the one who messes up." She reached again and squeezed his hand with a reassuring pressure. "Everyone makes mistakes. It's what you do next that matters."
A comfortable silence settled between them, and he felt the weight he was carrying instantly lifting.
"Go on," she urged, nudging him gently with her eyes flicking towards Tank. "He's right there. You should talk to him."
Bradley pushed back his chair and started towards the counter where Tank was ordering coffee. Just as he neared, he bumped into someone.
"Hey!" a voice snapped. Bradley looked down to see Tina, the blonde freshman he and the Gammas had ushered out of their backyard. She grimaced when she saw him.
"Oh, it's you," she said, her eyes narrowing. "Just so you know, I joined Team 99. And we're going to kick the Gammas' butts like we did last year."
Max had accepted her? With Tina's undeniable skill and Max's raw talent, they'd be unstoppable. Their combined abilities would pose a real threat to his chances, a threat he hadn't accounted for. He gritted his teeth, his eyes darting back to Mona.
She was watching him with an encouraging smile on her face, gently gesturing towards Tank. Bradley's anger dissipated, replaced by a warmth that spread through him. Max could win all the X-Games he wanted. Bradley had Mona.
He gave the little freshman girl a dismissive stare before he continued his way towards Tank, who was still waiting for his coffee. "Hey, Tank," he mumbled, the name feeling foreign on his tongue after so long.
"Bradley. Fancy seeing you here." The politeness felt strained. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them.
Finally, the barista called Tank's order. "Tall mocha, extra whip!"
"That's me," Tank said, reaching for his drink. "Well, good seeing you, Bradley."
"Wait!" he blurted out. "Tank, listen. We're looking for another teammate for the X-Games and... it's just not the same without you. Want to rejoin the Gammas?"
Tank took a sip of his coffee, his eyes scanning the bustling cafe before settling back on Bradley. "The College X-Games is not really my thing anymore."
Disappointment twisted in Bradley's gut. "Oh. Right."
"But," he continued, a faint softening in his gaze, "that doesn't mean we couldn't, you know, hang out. Do something outside of roller blades and skateboarding."
A wave of relief washed over Bradley. This was something. This was a start. "Yeah, sure," he said, a smile breaking through. "Whatever you want, baby."
An amused smile played on Tank's lips before he nodded his goodbye.
Bradley watched him walk away, feeling much better than he did all summer. He had a beautiful, smart date waiting for him, and he was patching things up with his longtime best friend. What could possibly go wrong?
~*~*~*~*~*~
Bradley walked back to the Gamma house after his last class and expected to find Mona waiting, perhaps sketching one of her abstract pieces in the common room. She'd officially moved into Tank's old room a few days ago, cementing her place as an official Gamma. Mona's canvas was in the common room, untouched. But she wasn't there. She wasn't in her room either. A flicker of annoyance sparked within him.
Just then, he heard the back door creak open. Mona strolled in with her helmet tucked under one arm, her skateboard held casually against her side. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled with that post-skate glow.
"You went skating without me?" he asked, the words coming out sharper than he intended.
Mona looked at him, a slight frown creasing her brow. "Yeah, I wanted to get some practice in while you were in class. You said you didn't feel like skating today, so I figured I'd go solo." Then, she added, almost as an afterthought, "Though I wasn't exactly doing it solo."
His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"I found the guy from Team 99 already using the ramp when I got there. Max."
His blood ran cold, then boiled. "You were skating with Max?" he asked, his voice low, dangerous, barely recognizable even to himself.
She shrugged, completely unfazed by his sudden shift in demeanor. "Yep. He's really good."
"Don't you ever skateboard with him again, Mona."
She stopped dead, her eyes widening, then narrowing. "What did you just say?" she asked, her voice quiet.
"I said," Bradley continued, ignoring the warning in her tone, "I don't want you near that guy. Do you hear me?"
"Do you hear yourself?" Mona retorted. "You don't tell me what not to do!"
"Not when you're engaging in playful repartee with the enemy. He's our rival, Mona."
"What are you talking about? We didn't do anything. I just showed him a couple of my moves, that's it."
"Showed him?" he interrupted, walking toward where she was sitting next to her neglected canvas. "Mona, how could you?"
"What is wrong with you?" she shot back, mirroring his own anger. "What's gotten into you?"
"Don't you get it?" he pressed, stepping closer, his chest tight with frustration. "That sophomore is trying to get you to show your moves so that he'd know all our strategies for the X-Games! He'd steal them!"
"He showed me his moves too."
"Believe me," he countered, "he showed you some flimsy tricks in exchange for your great ones."
"They were impressive stunts, Bradley. He didn't hold back."
"Mona, I know Max. He's an arrogant, competitive jerk who would do anything to win. He's looking for a four-year streak, and he'd do anything to get it. Believe me."
She sighed, finally seeming to concede. "Guess I shouldn't have shown him my moves."
Bradley sat next to her, gently brushing her arm. "Just be careful," he warned, his voice softening. "Don't fall for Max's conniving personality."
She offered a small, apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, I hope this didn't put a downer on our evening."
He nodded toward her empty canvas. "I was hoping we could show off our newest creations."
"You drew something?" she asked with excitement.
"Come to my room," he suggested, a different kind of warmth entering his voice.
In his room, he led her to a canvas he'd kept hidden. It was a painting of her, in her drawing apron, a brush in her hand, smudges of color dusting her cheek and nose.
Mona gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Bradley... it's beautiful," she whispered, her voice a soft whisper filled with genuine awe and emotion. The beauty of the piece, the care he'd taken, seemed to have touched her deeply. She turned, her blue eyes glistening, and leaned in, her lips meeting his in a tender kiss that quickly deepened. Their embrace became passionate until they stumbled backward, collapsing onto Bradley's bed.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Weeks passed by, and Bradley had been swamped with midterms, the relentless pressure from his father to excel in his Corporate Finance and Business Ethics classes leaving him little time for anything else. He'd poured all his creative energy into art, finding solace in the quiet focus of a canvas, while skateboarding had fallen by the wayside. Mona, understanding his schedule, had agreed to practice on her own.
He sat at his desk now, reviewing notes for his upcoming finance exam, but his pen was moving across a different page. In the margins of his Corporate Finance notebook, he was sketching. Line after delicate line, he captured Mona in the intimate quiet of his room, the way she looked in bed, a soft curve of her hip, the gentle slope of her shoulder, the tangle of her short brown hair against the pillow. He wondered if she would be upset if she ever saw these private tributes to her beauty.
Suddenly, the ring of his phone cut through the quiet. It was Mona. He'd bought her the same Ericsson R380 for her twenty-first birthday just last week. At first, she'd been reluctant, protesting that it was too expensive, but he'd insisted, wanting her to have the best, wanting them to be connected even in technology. Eventually, she'd relented, her smile making the extravagance feel completely worth it.
"Hi, sweetie," he answered with a soft smile on his face, his gaze on her raw sketches of her beautiful body.
"Uh, listen, Bradley..." a hesitant, unsure male voice spoke.
Hi blood ran cold. He knew that voice. Rage surged through him. "Max?!" he snarled, jumping to his feet, his pencil dropping to the floor. "What are you doing with her phone?"
"Listen, Bradley, Mona had an accident on the ramp," Max's voice rushed out. "They took her to the State College Hospital. I thought you should know."
"Are you with her?"
"Well, yes, someone had to be," Max answered, his voice a bit defensive. "The doctors are afraid she's got a concussion. She fell pretty hard."
How did Max know that?
But that didn't matter now. Mona's well-being was all that mattered.
~*~*~*~*~*~
He burst through the swinging doors of the emergency room, his eyes darting across the waiting area until they landed on a messy mop of black hair. Max was slumped in a plastic chair, staring at the floor.
Bradley stormed forward, ignoring the curious glances of other visitors, stopping abruptly in front of Max. "What are you still doing here? Her boyfriend is here now. You can leave."
Max lifted his head, his eyes bloodshot and rimmed with fatigue. "I just... I want to know if Mona's alright."
The nerve! Bradley's fists clenching at his sides. The audacity of him acting concerned after always being a thorn in his side.
Max pushed himself up from the chair. "Look, you seem pretty shaken up." He gestured towards a row of vending machines in the corner. "Can I get you something?"
The offer only fueled his anger. "I want nothing from you."
Max sighed and turned, walking towards the vending machines. Bradley watched him go, a dark, simmering desire to inflict pain churning in his gut. He wished he could light the jerk on fire, burn him, end him.
Then, a different thought pricked through his anger, a memory of the outdoor gymnasium, the way Max had reacted to his shirtless chest. The anger gradually quenched within him, and with slow menacing steps, he approached Max from behind until he was standing far too close. His nose brushed against the soft, thick black hair at the back of Max's neck. The younger boy tensed instantly and spun around, suddenly face to face with him. Bradley made sure his hot breath reached Max's skin, his cold, piercing gaze holding Max's now flustered, wide-eyed one.
Max swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. He seemed to gather himself, forcing a glare. "What the hell was that, Brad?"
"What the hell was what?" he asked with an innocent tone as he looked down at the slightly shorter boy.
"You're standing way too close," Max whispered, his gaze darting nervously to the people around them, as if checking if anyone had noticed.
Bradley saw the faint blush creeping up Max's face. "I changed my mind about that beverage," he murmured, taking another step closer, his fingers brushing against Max's groin.
Max tensed at the light touch. "Could you move back a little?" he managed, his voice strained. "I'm not a human heat lamp, you know."
Bradley took a step back, allowing Max to fully turn. A faint smirk played on his lips; the boy was definitely hot for him.
"Uh… what do you want?" Max asked, rubbing the back of his neck, avoiding Bradley's gaze.
"Peach," Bradley murmured, voice low with a suggestive taunt, gaze boring into Max's tense body.
"They, um, they don't have that," Max answered, sounding clearly on edge as he tried to put some distance between them.
Bradley moved closer in an advance that left Max no room to escape. He leaned in, as if to peer at the selection of beverages from Max's shoulder, his body now plastered to Max's back. His breath ghosted against Max's ear as he whispered, "Hmm, that's too bad." The deep rumble of his voice vibrated through Max's entire frame, sending a shiver down his spine.
"Okay," Max said in a strangled voice, finally managing to slip away from Bradley's proximity. He looked away, embarrassed. "Okay, um, I think it'll be best if I left."
Bradley gave him a dry stare. "Yes, you should." His gave never left Max's retreating form. He watched him leave with a wolfish stare following him as he exited. That was interesting.
~*~*~*~*~
He sat hunched in a hard plastic chair, his jaw tight, eyes fixed on Mona, who lay pale but thankfully concussion-free in the bed. "Are you absolutely sure you were on that ramp by yourself?"
She sighed, pushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "For the tenth time, yes! Max was on the other ramp, waiting for me to finish. He was a gentleman who respected my request to have the ramp to myself."
"Then if you see him there, leave!" His voice suddenly cracked. "Don't skateboard! Just leave!"
"I don't like this side of you, Bradley."
"And I don't like you spending time with Max!" he shot back, rising from the chair. "I don't see you at the art club anymore. We haven't even finished our last joined painting project."
"I'm sorry," she replied, her gaze softening slightly, "but I find myself more excited about winning the X-games."
"Is it because of Max?"
She groaned in frustration. "Bradley, stop it! There is nothing going on with Max!" Her eyes began to brim with tears. "I just had an accident, and all you care about is whether I'm cheating on you with Max."
He clenched his jaw, his hands fisting at his sides as he fought to rein in the tremor in his voice. "Mona, I just don't think you understand how cunning and manipulative Max is." He watched her closely, willing her to see what he saw.
She lay back against the pillows, silent, her gaze distant. He couldn't stand the silence, the lack of immediate reassurance. He moved to her bedside, leaning in, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "Promise me, Mona. Promise me you'll stay away from him."
She turned her head slowly, her gaze meeting his. "Bradley," she said calmly, voice devoid of emotion, "get out."
He stared at her, stunned. "What?"
"I just can't be with you right now. I'll see you at the Gammas' house tonight."
He stumbled back, a wounded ache blooming in his chest. She was pushing him away for simply trying to protect her. The hurt was a sharp blade that twisted deeper with each beat of his heart. And underneath the hurt, a simmering anger began to churn. Max was a threat, and Bradley was going to make him regret ever crossing their path.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The chill of the evening air did little to cool the fire in Bradley's gut, but he pushed it down, focusing solely on Mona. He had arrived at the Gammas' house just as she did, her movements still a little stiff from the accident. He was there with a steadying hand at her elbow, guiding her through the entryway. He fetched her a glass of water, then a pain reliever, fluffing her pillows and adjusting the dim bedside lamp.
Mona watched him with a tired smile gracing her lips. "You don't have to do all this," she murmured, but the smile lingered, a small comfort to his frayed nerves.
Finally, she was settled. He climbed onto the bed beside her carefully so as not to jostle her. The mattress dipped, bringing them closer. He propped himself on an elbow, gazing down at her, his heart aching with a mixture of relief that she was safe and a desperate longing for things to be right between them again. He leaned in, his gaze dropping to her lips, a silent question in his eyes.
Mona turned her head slightly, a faint sigh escaping her. "I just want to sleep, Bradley," she whispered, her eyes already fluttering closed.
A cold wave of insecurity washed over him, and he pulled back, her rejection stinging. He had tried so hard, done everything right, and still, she was miles away.
"I'm in love with you, Mona. I'm willing to give myself completely to you."
She opened her eyes, and they glistened, reflecting the soft lamp light. A single tear traced a path down her temple into her hair. The sight of her tears, though he couldn't discern their source, broke something fragile within him. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest, burying his face in her hair. He lay there with her, the soft rhythm of her breathing a small comfort. But even as he held her, he felt her distance. Her gaze was fixed on the wall opposite as if she wasn't truly with him in the room, as if something else, or someone else, occupied her thoughts. A fresh wave of fear pierced him. He hugged her tighter with a silent plea for her to return to him, his own eyes beginning to well up with unshed tears.
~*~*~*~*~*~
The next morning, Bradley was getting ready for class, the previous night's unresolved tension still a dull ache in his chest. He made his way to Mona's room, a knot forming in his stomach, and found her sitting up in bed, her eyes distant, staring blankly ahead.
"Hey," he said softly, moving closer. "I'm heading to class, but I'll be back as soon as it's over, okay?" He leaned down, planting a gentle kiss on her cheek.
"When you come back, I won't be here," she said, and gently pulled him near. "If you want to talk, you can call."
He stared at her in shock. This wasn't what he expected.
"And, no, it's not your fault," she added, her gaze finally meeting his, though still clouded with an emotion he couldn't translate.
He just smiled and pulled away from her grasp. "Let go of me," he managed, "But there's something I just gotta know. Did someone else steal my part?"
"It's not my fault," she replied, voice flat, offering no further explanation.
Bradley left for class, each step heavy, as if his feet were dragging through the streets. His heart felt like it was doing time in Siberia, bracing itself for the inevitable. He knew that Mona's quiet words meant the end. And God, did it hurt. That pain of rejection, of not being wanted.
When Bradley came back, she wasn't there. Just a note left on the stairs.
If you wanna talk, give me a call.
The note slipped from his grasp, floating softly to the floor. His files and notebooks followed, scattering around his feet. The dull silence that had first greeted him now roared in his ears. He turned and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He ran to the one place he knew she would be, the place that had become a battleground for his affections: the skate park.
And there, beneath the indifferent sky, at the very top of the highest ramp were Mona and Max. Their heads were tilted, close, undeniably close. He watched as their lips touched in a quiet connection, perfectly framed against the fading light. Creating a devastating scenery in Mona's empty canvas back in the common room that night, the fading colors of the day bleeding into his heart.
My heart did time in Siberia
Was waiting for the lie to come true
'Cause it's all so dark and mysterious
When the one you want doesn't want you
I gave myself away completely
But you just couldn't see me
Though I was sleeping in your bed
'Cause someone else was on your mind
In your head
His gaze narrowed on Max, the sight of him a match to the tinderbox of his simmering resentment.
He'd make him pay.
Max would taste hell, and Bradley knew exactly how he would deliver it.