Page 100 of All of You

Langdon

Happy Wheels is the local skate joint. Tonight is Galactic skate night—they turn off all the normal lights and only use black lights. Cheesy eighties music will blare while the smell of fried food at the snack bar hangs thick in the air.

I haven’t skated in a couple years and I’m not sure I’m any good anymore. I don’t know why I thought this would be a good date night at all. What if I fall? What if Delia does? I twist my fingers around the steering wheel rain splatters the windshield.

Delia’s hand rests on my thigh. Every now and then she squeezes, and it makes me want to pull the truck over and do dirty things to her. Really dirty things.

“I’m nervous,” she says.

“Why? It’ll be fun. There’s food and music and terriblelighting.”

“I mean in theory it sounds amazing. But what if I fall flat on my ass in front of everyone?”

I snort out a chuckle. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

“Rude!” she laughs.

“No—about me, well and you, too. So what? We’ll help each other back up I guess.” I put my hand on top of hers. Delia’s skin is irresistibly smooth and silky. I like that it makes her smile too.

It’s loud. Like overwhelmingly so. Delia’s eyes are wide as she takes in all the chaos. The glowing décor, the throngs of people, the music. I take her hand in mine and tug her toward the skate rental counter.

“Size?” The voice comes from behind the counter, but they’re ducked down, face out of sight. “Ten,” I answer. Delia tucks herself behind me.

“Hey, hey!” The voice says standing. “Langdon my man.” Campbell. Ugh. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I forgot you worked here. Date night.”

Delia steps to the side of me and gives him a shy wave that he doesn’t return. Campbell slaps a pair of skates on the counter before me.

“Size?” he asks again. Good God, he is such a rude shit sometimes. I want to reach over the counter, grab the collar of his shirt and smack his face off the smooth, solid surface.

“Eight please,” Delia says. He sets a pair in front of her then runs his tongue over his teeth.

“Thank you,” she says.

Delia taps my arm which startles me from my murderous thoughts. I flip Campbell off while grabbing my skates. We sit on a bench, shuck off our shoes, and pull on our skates.

“You looked ready to throw down back there, everything okay?” she asks while lacing her skates up.

I slap a smile on my face. “Uh, yeah. Everything’s good.”

“We can do something else if Campbell is bothering you.”

“I’m more concerned at how he treatsyou,”Isay.

She waves a hand through the air. “I don’t care how he treats me. I don’t think about him at all honestly.”

I wish I could be like her. Campbell—for all his pranks and stupidity is—was—a friend and it irks me that he’s judging Delia simply for not being part of the popular clique. Even worse, it makes me hate myself for potentially ever being so shallow over the years.

Delia stands. Rolls one skate forward and back followed by the other—testing her balance—and grins at me.

“Come on, Will Smith, let’s go.”

I push to my feet, take her hand, and tug us toward the rink. “Will Smith?”

Delia laughs. “You looked like you were about to smack him just for looking at me.”

I shake my head. “It wasn’t cause he was looking at you. It’s because he was rude to you.”