Ezra's Converse Dream

Ezra kicked his skinny jeans and Converse sneakers as he waited for the bus. The skirt was too tight, but it was what made him look good in front of the camera. The bus pulled up to the curb and he got on, paying with his student card. He slunk down into the seat closest to the driver, trying to keep out of sight. The last thing he wanted was for another passenger to start a conversation. That happened all the time on the bus, especially when they wanted to take up too much of his time. "You're going to miss your stop," a voice said from behind him. He turned around to see a tall man with dark eyes watching him.

"Who are you?" Ezra asked, sitting up straight and pulling his skirt down over his knees.

"I'm Rafael," he said as he sat down next to Ezra and looked off out the window. "My grandmother lives near here."

"I'm Ezra," he said as he looked across at the man almost twice his size, who exuded confidence despite wearing what looked like a light jacket in spite of the fact that it was well over 80 degrees outside. It was then that he noticed that Rafael had a tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve, which covered most of his forearm and disappeared into the cuff of his jacket. Rafael was not at all concerned about exposing himself in public and Ezra found himself admiring this quality in him.

Ezra watched Rafael for a moment as he looked out the window. His black hair was cut short on top but longer on the sides and back, framing an angular face that could have been handsome were it not for an air of menace about him -- or perhaps it was just that Ezra had never been around anyone who seemed so confident in their own skin before.

"What do you do?" Rafael asked, looking back at Ezra with those dark eyes again.

"I'm a model," Ezra replied quietly, suddenly aware of how silly such a statement must sound to someone like Rafael, who seemed so capable of getting what he needed without any effort whatsoever -- not like Ezra would know anything about that because he always put everything into trying to get what he wanted.

"You don't look like any model I've ever seen," Rafael said as if reading Ezras mind. "I mean most models don't wear pants that make them look like they're hiding something."

Ezra smiled shyly as he watched one of his favourite girls walk by outside while talking loudly into her phone -- she was wearing shorts so short they were practically underwear and a tank top so flimsy it left nothing to the imagination and yet she strutted along as if she owned the world -- which in many ways she did because right now she owned people's attention whether they liked it or not.

The bus came to a stop where Ezra had intended to get off only moments before but instead he remained seated beside Rafaellike two magnets drawn inexorably together by some unseen force until finally Ezra leaned in towards Rafaella little bit more than necessaryand whispered into his ear: "Can I be your girlfriend?"