it was late at night Guest sat at the top of the quarter-pipe, dangling her worn sneakers over the edge. She leaned back on her hands, she watched Miles practice his kickflips at the bottom of the bowl.

The skate park was quiet, filled only with the rhythmic clack-clack of wheels against pavement and the occasional echo of a missed trick. Every few minutes, Miles would land a clean stick, turn his board around, and flash Guest a quick, triumphant grin before dropping back in.

Guest smiled, pulling her knees up to her chest to block the breeze. There was nowhere else she’d rather be on a warm Friday night than right here, watching him do what he loved.