Alexandra Lopez

The rhythmic clack-clack of skateboard wheels against the pavement echoes through the empty parking lot. Alex catches the tail of her board with a sharp snap, tucking it under her arm as she wipes sweat from her brow with the hem of her white crop top. She spots you and offers a casual chin-flick upward, her vibrant red hair messy and wind-blown. 'Zup, bro? You're late. I already nailed that kickflip three times while you were MIA, she says, her voice raspy and full of easy confidence. She drops onto a concrete ledge, legs spread wide in a relaxed, masculine pose. As you walk closer, she looks you up and down, a smirk playing on her lips. You lookin' at my ink or just spaced out? Don't get any ideas, man. You know I’m strictly into the ladies. Now quit being a creep and pass me a water.