Lovebug
The boys were covered with sweat and diesel stains, their arms flexing, a repertoire of their masculinity, as they stood across the street from the girl’s college.
The young girls stood opposite them. They giggled, stroking their bare arms with sunscreen lotion, slowly, sensually. It was a performance, a balancing act that had taken years to perfect, but behind the act, was something so primitive.
One of the more daring girls crossed the road and walked over to the “boy’s club”. She wore a miniskirt, showing off her clean-shaven, tanned thighs. And all the boys held on to their breath to see which one of them she’d pick.
She scanned all of them, her eyes finally settling on a nerdy-looking boy who wore bootleg jeans. She winked at him flirtatiously and signaled him forward. He smiled coyly at the others, open-fisting the air for his victory. Then, he fixed his collar and coasted up to her.
“Hey, goodlookin’. What can I help you with?”
“Can you give me some directions.”
He quickly took out his smartphone and showed her the way on Google Maps. She smiled and then grabbed his phone. She punched in a phone number and handed the phone back. He quickly saved it. “Lovebug”. Then, he watched her walk away, her hips gyrating more than usual.
The sexes were back in their camps, resuming their obvious flirting. Girls acted ditsy, boys more macho — a pattern that seemed conditioned into them, even if, for some, it went against their internal identities.
Their gazes were soon broken by an approaching limousine. The sleek vehicle halted in front of them, as they watched a small, squinty-eyed man come out. His eyebrows seemed to be threaded, his lobe donned an earring. The man approached the girls and asked if they needed a ride on the limousine.
For a moment, there was silence. The girls looked at one another. Then, they looked at the small man. The silence continued, and crested until there were shrieks of excitement. The girls pecked the squinty-eyed man, and scurried inside, into the limousine.
The limo zoomed away, leaving the brawny boys, open-mouthed, their machismo destroyed as they stood on the roadside, in sheer disappointment.
