being Ray’s girlfriend
• he always has an arm around you. sitting on the curb with his skateboard next to him, your legs over his lap. one arm lazily slung around your shoulders with constant cheek kisses. walking behind you, skating up to you, dropping a quick kiss. you like to play with his chain when you’re curled up with him. twisting it between your fingers, lightly tugging it so he looks at you, and when he does you cup his face with both hands and kiss him. Ray always pulls away from that kiss grinning hard, like he’s never gonna get over you
• he loves dressing you in his clothes. oversized polos that hang off your shoulder, baggy jeans that you have to fold at the waist to keep up. he looks you up and down with that slow grin, eyes lingering on your thighs completely covered in denim or the way your hands peek out of his long sleeves. “Shit baby… you look good” he mumbles, bottom lip tucked into a smile as he tugs you into him by the belt loops of the jeans
• anytime you tug on his sleeve and go “Ray I like your hoodie” he looks down at it like he hadn’t even noticed what he was wearing, then smirks and shrugs“Oh yeah?” he’ll say, casual as ever but hours later, you’re wearing it
• out of all his friends, Ray’s the most thoughtful. while the others are talking shit or are doing something dumb, Ray’s the one with his hand on your knee, letting you lean into him, not afraid to say things like “I fuckin’ love you, you know that?” out loud where everyone can hear
• his friends tease him constantly “She got you goin’ soft” but Ray just shrugs it off
• Ray doesn’t bring you around his friends not because he’s hiding you, never that. but because he respects you. he knows how they talk, how they act, the dumb shit they do when they’re high or skating reckless. the kind of guys who run their mouths and push boundaries just to see who’ll flinch. you’re not like that. you’re good, thoughtful, a little shy sometimes and Ray knows damn well his group wouldn’t know how to act around someone like you. he’ll tell you gently, one night when you’re curled up next to him on the edge of his bed “It’s not you” he says “I just… I don’t want you around that shit. They’re not like you baby.” you nod, because you get it. you’ve heard the stories, seen them from a distance, but you also know how much they mean to Ray
• with his friends, he’s cool, collected, guarded. but with you he softens. you see parts of him no one else gets to. he shows up to your place with his hoodie in his hands already, he sends you videos of the tricks he’s working on, voice in the background asking “You think that one’s clean?” you always answer yes. always support him, even when he’s frustrated after hours of failed tricks and busted palms
• “You’re gonna go pro one day” you tell him, even when he’s doubting himself. you hold his scraped hands, clean his cuts “You believe in me more than I do” he says. you see the part of him that wants more out of life, out of skating, out of love
• he tries hard to balance skating, friendships, and you. he doesn’t always get it right, but he’s trying. you see it every time he lets a call from fuckshit go to voicemail, or when he skips a skate sesh to walk you home even. sometimes he disappears for a few hours, skating, not texting back until later
• and when you rest your head on his shoulder, playing with his chain or the strings of his hoodie, he’ll kiss your temple and mumble “You’re too good for me, you know that?” but you never let him say that for too long. you remind him he deserves someone who believes in him, someone who loves him. even if you never meet his friends he still tells you, in small ways, you’re the only one who really knows him
• you knew from the jump how he was. you knew about the parties, the weed, the late nights. so when you started dating, and he got serious about you, he started asking even if he already knew the answer
“Hey… fuckshit got this party-” your eyebrows immediately knit together. he doesn’t even get the sentence out “No.” he stops mid thought, lips twitching at the corner “Alright” he says easily, tossing his phone onto the bed like it was nothing. “Wasn’t tryna go anyway.” instead, he crawls over to where you’re sitting, tugs you into his lap, kisses the side of your neck
• later that night, you’re curled up next to him, legs tangled in his while he edits a clip of his skating on your phone. you’re playing with the chain around his neck again, and he murmurs “They don’t get it, you know…” you look up at him. “What don’t they get?” he glances at you. shrugs and smiles slow “Why I’d rather be here with you.” and maybe he is going soft but for once, he’s okay with that
• Ray didn’t want to meet your parents. he never outright said no, but the first time you brought it up, he shifted uncomfortably and mumbled “I don’t know baby…” he looked everywhere but at you, at the seam of the couch, the scab on his knuckle. he wasn’t scared of much, but parents, grown ups judging him before he even got to say a word made him feel small. but it mattered to you, so he showed up. he tried his best, truly. cleaned under his nails, put on the one polo shirt that didn’t have a stain on it. still wore his baggy jeans, but pulled a belt tight so they sat right. he came on his skateboard, of course but chucked it behind your parents’ bushes before walking up to the porch. you saw him do it from the window and had to bite back a laugh. inside, he was polite. awkward as hell, but polite. “It’s nice to meet you, sir… ma’am” he said, standing too straight like someone told him once that’s what you do in front of people’s dads. he didn’t touch you, even though he wanted to. he just let you sit close while he nervously answered every question your dad tossed his way. your mom gave him a once over look like she was still deciding. your dad was even more of a brick wall. but Ray didn’t backdown. he listened, nodded, gave honest answers about school, skating, even admitted he’d had a few “rough patches.” he didn’t pretend to be perfect but he made sure to say “I really care about your daughter. a lot.” it took time. at first, your parents weren’t sure. but slowly after seeing how gentle he was with you, how he opened car doors without being told, how he always said thank you when your mom made dinner they started to come around.
𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 ᴗ͈ . ᴗ͈
