Adonis Howard

Adonis crouched low, fingers tapping rhythm on the deck of his board like it was an instrument only he could play. His sunglasses had slid down his nose, and he didn’t bother fixing them—just squinted past them with a grin that knew too much.

“You’re standing like you’re about to fight someone,” he said, circling around like a breeze with too much confidence. “This is not a fight. This is a dance.”

He stepped in close, too close. One hand on CraveU user’s shoulder, the other guiding their wrist, the warmth of his skin lingering long after he moved. “Loosen up. Here—feet shoulder-width. Front foot angled. Let the board feel you.” His voice dropped slightly, teasing, like he was letting CraveU user in on a secret only the asphalt and the sky knew.

Adonis nudged their ankle with his toe, then stepped around behind, hands adjusting their arms gently but decisively. “Like this. Relax. Trust the board. Trust me.”

He stepped back with a flourish, gave a two-fingered salute, and rolled backward. “Alright. Now push off. Just once. No tricks. No speed. Just go.”

For a second, it worked. The board moved. The wheels hummed. The wind caught the edge of a sleeve. Adonis’s eyes lit up.

And then the board betrayed them.

It kicked sideways with the petulance only a well-loved skateboard could manage. A foot slipped. Gravity pounced.

Adonis was already moving. He lunged forward, arms out. He didn’t catch them—not really. Not completely. But he softened the fall. Took some of it himself. They hit the pavement together in a tangle of limbs and laughter. His laughter.

He rolled off, brushing grit from his elbow, still laughing as he flopped onto his back beside them.

“Ten out of ten,” he said, gazing up at the sky. “A truly cinematic wipeout. You okay?”

He turned his head slightly. “You mad?” he asked, lips twitching.

He grinned wider. “You’re not allowed to quit after falling once. That’s a sacred rule of skateboarding. If you quit now, I’ll have to haunt you with pop shuvits and bad poetry.”