•͟U͟N͟D͟E͟R͟S͟T͟A͟N͟D͟ ͟c͟a͟r͟t͟i͟u͟z͟i͟•͟

VII

I came outside to see Symere talking amongst a group of people, only two of its members I knew: Symere's "parents" Amala and Rakim. I recognized the other two as the dude with red braids and guy with face tats that were sitting beside Symere on the day I saw him staring at me in the cafeteria. The face tattoo guy seemed to storm off pissed, while the guy with red braids put a hand on his shoulder before chasing after the other guy, who went off to the exact place that Caleb had warned me against traveling to: the underside of the stands. But whatever, if he was gonna get chlamydia from some overly active sixteen-year old, he could go for it.

I approached Symere after the two other people left, and only him, Amala and Rakim remained. "Hey Amala," I introduced, "hey Rakim."

"What's good, Jordan?" Rakim asked, dapping me up. "Nothing much, you?" I asked. Both of their gazes returned towards Symere. "We can talk about it later, bud." Amala, told him, brushing her hand along the side of his face, which made him smile. "Sounds good, mom." he replied, giggling.

They both waved and smiled as they walked away. "You alright, Sy? I saw some other people walking away from you sorta pissed looking." I asked. The last thing I wanted to see was his cute little face legitimately sad. "Oh, yeah, don't worry about that." he replied, reluctantly. I raised an eyebrow, "Don't lie to me, Symereeeeeee." I told him, ruffling his dreads.

"Jordyyyyyyy, I would never do thattttttt." he said, trying to jump up and reach my dreads. Montero finally seemed to finish his potty break, and we returned to the stands. We spent the second half of the game doing almost the exact same thing, just talking about school and our life and past experiences, not paying much attention towards who was rushing how many yards, or what end zone the latest touchdown had been scored in. I occasionally looked down at my phone to see if either Travis or Caleb had responded; each time was met with no response from either of them.

The final score of the night was settled upon the score board:

LITHIA SPRINGS:

28

NORTH COBB:

42

It may have been a loss for us, but at the same time, we had agreed upon the fact that since it was an even bigger loss for Jonathan, due to the fact that he could've changed it, truly made it a win for us. I checked my phone for the last time, and still zero response from either. I opened Snapchat, and looked on that really weird/creepy/stalker-esque map feature called Snap Map to see if either of them had been active recently. Caleb had his disabled (smart idea, to be honest), but Travis' reported that he had last been seen two and half hours ago in the parking lot. I had just given up, and was gonna just walk back to the Cadillac and spam Caleb with messages.

Montero got a ride home with Nayvadius and Summer, who had parked Nayvadius' Grand Cherokee on the opposite side of the school, so we parted ways at the stadium. Symere and I walked back to the main lot together, just talking about the most random shit. As we ventured into the asphalt ocean, I noticed there was no white Cadillac parked under the tall lightpost it was parked under earlier. Wether it had been moved, or Caleb just fucking dipped and left me here, or if it had been towed or impounded or something, I didn't care at this point.

"Hey, Symere?" I asked. Symere turned his head towards me and tilted it in a "what is it?" look. "I hate to be that kind of person, but do you think I could get a ride? Caleb hasn't answered my texts for the past hour, and the Cadillac sorta isn't here either." Symere laughed, "Of course you can have a ride," he told me, "you literally didn't even have to ask, Jordy." I got really excited internally at the thought of being in the car with Symere. Maybe I should make a move for just a kiss? No. Not yet, at least.

I followed Symere to his Acura. It managed to live up its name, the Acura Legend. The thing was nearly twenty five years old, and still looked pretty cool. Hell, Ludacris has a fucking Legend, so that just proves its legendary status. Ok, fine, I'll stop. We fell into both front seats, where Symere started the car, and put on Frank Ocean. God, I love him even more now.

"Sy," I began, "you sure as hell were right about these things being fun." Symere looked over smiling, "When am I wrong?" he asked. "You were wrong when you deadass almost ran me over this morning in this exact car, and blamed it on me." I replied.

"Blame is a strong word, Jordy," Symere reasoned, "I would've preferred the term 'accused'" I looked at him confused, but also smiling, "Fine, you accused me of almost getting hit."

"Seeeeeee?" he replied, laughing, "That sounds so much better." We were both laughing while sitting at a red light, when all of a sudden, Symere asked, "Would you maybe want to just like hang out for the rest of the night?" The proverbial butterflies within me began to flutter, and all my mind was thinking was, "SAY YES SAY YES SAY YES! DO IT DO IT DO IT!"

"I like that idea, Sy." I replied. He looked over and smiled, "Sounds good, Jordy."

Yes.

It was finally happening.