Next to Enzo, he felt plain and ordinary, unable to compete with the star moves on the soccer field or the precise hip hop dance steps that Enzo could perform with ease. He couldn't compete with how Enzo used food to make friends. Made it a thing. The thing everyone knew him for. When Steve thought of his own mediocre skateboarding skills, his grommet status when out surfing, his averageness, all of it made him grimace internally.
Although he and Serene were almost inseparable, he'd somehow managed to fall into a friend zone that he didn't know how to climb out of. Lately, she wore her hair in braids. Lots of tiny braids that some girl, Lanesha or Lakesha put in for her, turning Serene's understated beauty into jaw-dropping good looks. The girl who braided Serene's hair lived in Crenshaw on Santo Tomas Drive. The Jungles, they called it. It made his blood run cold to even think of stepping foot in that neighborhood. Yet Serene had no problem. She hopped on the bus with her skateboard and spent the day, sometimes the night––it took that long to put in all the braids.
She'd been scouted one afternoon at the park, jumping a rail and landing bolts, catching everyone's attention with the daredevil move. Her lankiness and lack of curves meant that her center of gravity on a board was not too different from a boy’s. Her physical proportions gave her an edge when it came to the physics of what she could pull off. Steve had stood by her side when the scout gave her his card, Serene tucking it in her back pocket, wiping the back of her hand under her nose.
"Come by La Brea Skate Shop," the scout had said, taking off his knit cap and stuffing it in his front pocket. He had thinning scruffy blond hair and wore baggy jeans, the cuffs puddling over his Converse. His eyes had flicked over Steve dismissively before he sauntered off, leaving Steve trying to grapple with jealousy that he knew Serene didn't deserve.
"Want to head home?" She'd asked with a lift of her chin. He'd nodded silently. They'd skated back to the house only to run into Enzo, who'd beckoned them over with the promise of a seafood pasta dish he'd whipped up.
When Serene went into the bathroom, Enzo cornered Steve, asking for pointers on how to get Serene to take notice of him.
"You're cozy, no?" He said, eyes squinting into narrower slits. He looked Steve up and down. "Just tell her I like her." He grinned and heaped pasta on Steve's plate, ladling clam sauce over it and topping it off with a sprinkle of parsley.
"She's hard to read sometimes," Steve said. Thinking of Enzo's hands roaming over Serene dampened his appetite.
Enzo laughed and slapped his back. He gestured toward the plate. "Mangia."
Maybe it was out of morbid curiosity that he wanted to know how Serene felt about Enzo. They'd gone back to his place after the pasta and stilted conversation. His dad was out playing golf and his mom and sister were at the mall, shopping. After some negotiating over a selection of three rented videos, they'd settled on watching Congo. Serene had wanted to watch Dolores Claiborne, a movie Carrie picked out and abandoned midway through, saying it was too slow.
"Enzo's a pretty good cook," Steve said.
Serene opened the plastic box and pulled the cassette out, sinking to her knees to slip it into the VCR. "Yeah. I like his cooking," she agreed.
"What do you think about him?"
She glanced over her shoulder at Steve, her beauty stopping his thoughts. He took in the angles of her, straight broad shoulders, a slim toned arm. Her dark eyes assessed him.
"He's alright."
"He likes you."
Serene looked down, long lashes naturally curling up. "I know."
Her voice was so low that Steve had to strain his ears to hear.
"You think you'd go out with him?" He could feel his pulse in his ears and a flush of heat to his cheeks.
Serene glanced back up at him. "No."
The no was delivered swiftly. She had not even paused to think about it, and Steve felt the relief flood through his system. His face still flamed from the flush of embarrassment over talking about such a thing with Serene. Yet he couldn't help himself from prodding more.
"Why not?"
Serene ran her tongue under her top lip. "He's not my type."
"What's your type?" He knew he was pushing it now, but couldn't stop.
Serene shrugged. He scooted closer to the edge of the sofa, their eyes locking. She returned her focus to the VCR, slipping the videotape in, the moment over.
"I haven't seen this one yet," he said, trying to rescue the situation and wondering what had just happened. "Dylan says it's like Indiana Jones set in Africa. "
"That's cool." Serene grinned. She pressed play before coming to sit next to him.
They never really watched the movie that afternoon. Steve had let his fingers graze hers lightly, and she'd returned the gesture, pushing her head back against the sofa. As if in a dream, he moved closer to her and Serene turned toward him, eyes moist. He kissed her then, his mouth touching hers gently, and the light moan that escaped her lips set a fire of longing through his body, their tongues meeting instinctively. They had squirmed and rubbed against each other for an hour, mouths locked. The sound of a key being inserted into the front door drew them apart, the movie more than halfway over.
They made love everywhere. The first time was in Serene's room, their sex raw and voracious, with none of the preening and seductive teasing that Steve got from Taylor. Serene flew at him, a hurricane of energy. She gnawed his lips bloody, sucking at his tongue
