Rush

The park has always been my favorite place to be. It’s not exactly quiet, but it’s got just the right amount of noise to let you just think. You can sit and watch the people walk by, the people sitting in the grass having a picnic, the children in the park, the dogs running to catch flying objects.

That is until he appeared. I don’t know who the hell he thought he was. Just… appeared one day and basically took over the park. Spreading his equipment around for God knows what. Interrupting the scene; causing a racket. I wanted to grab him by his nice, leather vest and tell him to get the hell out. But instead, I tried ignoring him. After all, it was a park, and everyone is welcome.

But then he intruded into my area. Moving to my area. I looked up from my notebook and glared at him. He didn’t seem to notice. I moved over when he plopped a shitload of metal gear on the bench. My bench. He fiddled around and made so much racket, I couldn’t even think straight.

I endured this for several weeks until finally; finally I snapped my notebook shut (I haven’t been able to write anything for quite some time).

“Excuse me?”

“Mm.”

“Excuse me?” I said a little louder.

He looked up and smiled. “Yes darling?”

“Could you please not make so much noise? It’s kind of bothersome, and I haven’t been able to write anything for the couple weeks that you’ve been here.” I said as politely as I could. I wasn’t really the type of person to snap and be rude. “And honestly, you’re just fiddling around with a bunch of metal trash. No offense or anything.”

His smile broadened.

“Darling, this isn’t trash.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s art.”

“It’s what?”

“I’ve been hired by the park to create art. I’ll show you once I get done. How about that?”

“Uhm.”

He laughed. I didn’t believe him.

“I’ll prove it. Here.” He said, grabbing a thick, black binder and tossing it to me. I flipped it open. The first page was a deer, made completely of metal. It was beautiful. I didn’t know what to say.

“It’s so ugly, it’s fucking beautiful.”

I looked up at him, still flipping through the pages. He laughed. “Thanks. I’m glad you like it.”

He dropped the piece he was fiddling with, and then held up his hand in front of me. “I’m Quinn.” I let go of the binder and shook it.

“Nice to meet you Quinn.” I said, looking back down at the book. He stayed standing in front of me. I guess he expected my name. I looked up at him. “My name is whatever you want it to be.” I smiled, handing the binder back and standing. “I guess I’ll see you around Quinn.”

He bit his lower lip and shook his head, smiling gently. “Then I guess I’ll see you around too, stranger.”

~

So maybe he isn’t a complete asshole like I thought. The next day when I went back, there he was again, fiddling with his metal. But there was an addition to his collection. It was a big white sign, propped up against my bench. In big, capital, bold letters, it said, “Please excuse my constant racket. If it’s disturbing you, I’m terribly sorry. :)”

I laugh.

As soon as Quinn hears me, he looks up at me and his lips pull into a smile. He has a fag in between his lips and I wrinkle my nose. I hate smoke.

“Good morning darling.” He says. And then he notices my scowl and wrinkled nose, and he raises his eyebrows, pulling the cigarette out from his lips and stubs it out in the tray on the trash bin. “Sorry.” He apologizes.

“It’s okay. Good morning to you as well.” I smile, sitting down on the far end of the bench.

~

Four hours later, it’s only getting hotter outside, and I feel like the sun has situated right on top of me. Quinn has his jacket off, another cigarette in between his lips, his sleeves rolled up, and his clothes are sticking to his body. He swearing every twenty seconds. I’m sweating profusely as well and so my hoodie is off my back and on the bench, tossed carelessly aside, mixed in Quinn’s jacket.

It’s unusually hot outside for a normal day and I’m parched. But I also don’t want to leave because Quinn is very, very wet, and very, very sexy.

In five minutes, Quinn throws down his tools and swears loudly before dropping down next to me on the bench. “What the fuck. I don’t even know…” he mumbles, running his hands through his sweaty hair and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

Why do some men look so hot wet?

I really hope my bottom half doesn’t do something embarrassing. Maybe I should leave. Now would be a good time.

After knowing him for two days, I already like his cheeky, badass, smart attitude. I wouldn’t say I’m in love with him, but I will say that I have a crush on him. He’s the type of guy I would date if I wasn’t such a wuss and not say anything.

And then everything is awkward. Awkward and uncomfortable. He’s breathing heavily beside me, sitting too close for comfort, it’s way too hot now, and I want to stand up and walk away. I glance over at him. He’s looking at me. I blush. His hands are on his knees, and his knees are basically pressed against mine. Which means his thighs are also pressed against mine. I have an odd fetish for thighs. Especially Quinn’s thighs.

“I uh… I’m… Erm… Mm… Nghhh… I-it’s unusually h-hot, isn’t i-it?” I stutter, swallowing hard, wiping my forehead with my skinny arm.

“Fuck yeah. And I can’t focus on this goddamn sculpture. I’m ready to just give up.”

“I-I think it’s p-pretty gg-good for, uhm, whatever i-it is.” I mumble. Honestly, I haven’t got the slightest idea what the hell it is.

“I don’t even know what it is. I don’t even remember my idea. Shit.” He mumbles. And then he turns his whole body to face me. His white dress shirt is open about one third of the way, and I can see his chest. He hasn’t got any chest hair, and sweat glistens off the bare skin. Sweat trails down his face and he licks his chapped lips. If I pop a boner now, I think I’ll die.

I don’t know what to do.

“Erm, h-hello.” I blush. I want to punch myself in the dick for saying “hello”.

Quinn smirks at me. “It’s so bloody hot out here. How about we go get a drink?”

“S-sure.”

And then we’re no longer in the park. Now, we’re in a pub that’s two blocks away. He orders two beers. I tell him I don’t drink. He orders me a Coke. I ask for a Diet Coke instead. I feel embarrassed, but he only smiles at me, and unbuttons another button on his shirt and fans himself with one hand.

I look at everything but him.

“Come on now. It’s alright. Don’t be shy. This isn’t the same stranger I met yesterday. What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing.”

I hate stuttering. It makes me feel so useless.

And then his hand is on my thigh, rubbing my skin through the jeans lightly, drinking his beer unfazed at what he’s doing. My cheeks are on fire. I’m not sure if he’s aware to what he’s doing, but it’s driving me nuts. He glances over at me, and smiles. My eye twitches.

“Wha-“

He squeezes hard on my thigh before letting go. I don’t know what to do. I sit there dumbfounded. He goes back to drinking his beer.

“I uh, need to use the restroom. I’ll be right back.” I mumble, getting up and practically running to the men’s room. I push the door open and lean against the wall, breathing heavily.

Did Quinn just hit on me?

No.

No he didn’t. It was just a friendly squeeze. That’s all. Don’t be so full of yourself.

I go over to the sink and splash some water, wiping it quickly with a towel. When I open my eyes, hands grab my waist and someone spins me around, slamming me against the counter. My eyes widen, and Quinn is standing there, towering some six feet- a good head taller than me, before slamming his lips against mine.

I can’t think or breathe. His breath is intoxicating, his cologne is enthralling, his skin is soft under my fingers when they run up on their own and cup his cheeks. And for an ironic moment, I think of that Boys Like Girls song, ‘Love Drunk’, and the line,

“Hot sweat and blurry eyes. We're spinning on a roller coaster ride, the world stuck in black and white…”

Quinn is pressing feverish kissing along my jaw and then back up to my lips, probing them open with his tongue and invading my personal space. My fingers twist in the fabric of his shirt and I pull him closer. The kisses are more desperate, needier, and then he has his hands wrapped around my thighs, and he’s pulling them up around his waist, his groin desperately thrusting against mine. The arousal is startling, but I’m not complaining. I go along with it- my hands falling down to his chest, unbuttoning the top buttons that aren’t already unbuttoned, slipping inside, almost like a child finding a new prize, greedily claiming it.

His head drops against my shoulder and he turns to face my neck, sucking, and moaning softly when I tweak the nipples gently. His hands fall to my crotch, rub once, and then he’s fumbling with the zipper quickly.

And then the door bangs open, there’s a pause, a yell, and then,

“Fockin’… oi mates, ‘m realleh fockin’ sorreh.”

Two seconds later, the door bangs shut again, and the man is gone. Quinn rests his forehead against mine breathing heavily, as am I.

I open my eyes and look at him. “I-it’s probably for the best. Don’t want to go t-too far, yeah?”

He eyes slip open and he looks at me, smiling and breathing through his nose. “Yeah, probably.”

“You cheeky monkey.” I mumble. He only chuckles.

Then we’re not in the men’s room anymore. We’re not even in the pub anymore. We’re walking back towards the park almost as if nothing happened.

We’re not even walking close to each other. It’s a good two feet apart. I feel disappointed. Is that all he wanted? A quick shag? I nibble on the inside of my cheek and glance over at him. He isn’t looking at me at all. He’s just walking.

And then, a warm hand laces into mine. I look down, and then next to me. Quinn smiles his warm, arrogant, you-know-you-want-me, cheeky, sweet, adorable smile.

“You never told me your name… stranger.”

For a moment I forget where we are, what day it is, what time it is, or what my own name is. But he squeezes my hand, encouraging me, and then I remember.

“Luke.”

But I remember just for him.