♕︎$☘︎ 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐓, 𝐖𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋 ☘︎$♕︎ ✔︎ ᴊᴀᴍᴀʟ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇʀ x ᴏᴄ!

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴇɪɢʜᴛ: ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴs, ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴs, ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴs

Pʟᴀʏ ===> Cᴀɴ ɪ ᴋɪᴄᴋ ɪᴛ?  ===> A ᴛʀɪʙᴇ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ǫᴜᴇsᴛ

Me, Ruby and Jamal rode ours bikes down the street as Monse and Cesar walked. As we rode I left the two boys in the dust, "SPEED UP, SLOWPOKES!"  I shouted at them, as we made our way to Ruby's place. I felt the breeze whip past, the coolness relaxing me and I breathed a soft sigh as Jamal surpassed me, "No time to rest beautiful, we've got places to be." Beautiful. And within seconds I lost my breath, then my balance as I fell off the bike. I lie on the ground as everyone comes to make sure I'm okay, looking up to see Monse, Cesar, Ruby, and Jamal all gathered around. Jamal kneels down in just slightly above me, "You okay, Cherry? You took a hard fall." He said, looking over me with eyes as brown as the world's finest chocolate. "I fell hard for you, Jamal." suddenly our faces got close in proximity before a snap pulled me back to my senses, "Hello, earth to Cherry! You okay? You feel like your head is leaking?" Jamal said, our faces close together. "Huh, uhm..no? I'm wearing a helmet. And you're awfully close, J." He quickly moved, as he helped me up to my feet as he handed me my bike, "I think it's best we walk for now. Don't want you falling off again." He smiled at me.

How is it that one smile, just one smile, can make someone's heart beat like an 808?And one string of words can make someone feel as though they're on drugs? And one hug can make you feel as though you're being wrapped in a nice, warm Tamale of love and- wait, Tamale? "You wanna help us make Tamales mija?"  I gave a distracted nod. Helping to make food in Ruby's kitchen, giving short, longing stares to Jamal who didn't look up all but once, never looking my way. Then there was a moment at school where we walked the halls just talking about any old random thing while trying to get to class; alone. Just the two of us.

Jamal and I were in class laughing about something random. We stopped laughing when the announcements came on however. "Attention, students. One last reminder to buy your tickets to tonight's Homecoming Dance. A magical evening full of wonder, excitement, and romance can be yours for only 10.99." Romance, huh? Why add that into HOCO advertising? "Hey, Jamal." He looked up to me at my seat, in front of him. "Yeah? What's up?" I saw him smile at me, and I felt my heart warm, and cheeks flush before responding, "You going to HOCO?" He nodded looking back to a glass vile in front of him, "Do you wanna-,"
At that exact moment I was cut off by announcements going off again, "However, this is not an opportunity to get freaky. Remember: if you're not responsible, you'll end up with responsibility." Just then Jamal looked up to a pregnant girl beside him sending a text, giving her an awkward smile. "So, there will be no twerking, yiking, getting crunk, lit, or turnt. For all you ladies, dress appropriately. Nobody wants to see your lower butt cheeks. And last but not least: no ID, no entrance. No exceptions."  As the announcements finally went off, Jamal looked back at me, "Sorry, you didn't get to finish, what you were saying?" He looked at expectantly, as if he was awaiting a certain answer. And yet, I could only think I was pushing it too far. "Ah, it was nothing important. I can't wait to see what you'll wear to the dance." He then smiled and went on about him and his 'Pimp Stick' or 'Pimp Cane' he was gonna accessorize his fit with. But I couldn't help but stare.

I would later be standing in the lunch line with Olivia and Monse, talking about the dance, though admittedly I only heard a few words. "--Bump and grind. Highschool dances are the worst!" Monse complained, talking to us both. I walked behind both girls listening intently after coming from my daydream, "Really? Dances in Houston are dope, and great opps to meet dudes." Olivia admitted raising a suggestive brow at the both of us, "Take a look around! Every hot prospect you see is today is gonna be sporting wood tonight. It's not pretty. Or impressive. Dances are basically sex fests." I nodded in agreement at that one, "In a bad way?" Olivia questioned, "Yes. They can expose you." I sighed at this, "Oh dear."

"How?" Olivia asked.

"You can get roofied or pregnant. And I'm not just talking about getting it in on the dancefloor, which happens all the time, I'm talking about slipping on something suspect on the way to the bathroom, and BOOM: you're immaculately concepted." Monse exclaimed