Imperfectly Perfect

10.

"What did we just do?"

"Oh my god."

I look at our creation. We just spray painted a school window that no one goes to. Although, a giddiness still fills my lungs, I can't help but feel somewhat guilty.

"We've accomplished so much. I taught you how to vandalize and how to steal!"

I roll my eyes at his idiocy.

"Technically speaking, you didn't teach me anything. You kinda forced me to do this."

"Okay. What do YOU want to do?"

"Let's go to town center."

He looks at me questioningly, but does so anyways, as we get into his mom's car.

"You drive."

I leave no room for argument, I reach into the back pocket of my ripped jeans to pull out the car keys and drop them into the palm of his hand. He closes his fingers around them, after giving me an intense, hard look and he gets in the driver's side, while I get in on the passenger side.

The drive is quiet as he drives, the silence seems to be almost deafening, so I turn on the radio. I stop turning the dial, changing the stations as I hear familiar song play. A small smile forms on my lips.

"Scarlet," I murmur.

I see him glance at me through the corner of his eye, before looking back at the road.

We finally arrive at TC and we step out of the car in exact sync. Alfonso turns around the car and laces his fingers with mine. And I can't help but wonder, what's going on with him? He was cold at first with me but now all he does is act like he wants to be in a relationship with me or something. . .

"Let's go to the fountain."

I look at him sideways, I end up relenting, agreeing, curious of what our plan is going to be. Along the way, Alfonso stops suddenly by the side of a building.

"What are you doing?"

He stands up and I see that he's picked up a Sharpe from the ground and I'm not sure if I should be disgusted or confused. I'm mostly disgusted, imagining all the germs that were on the marker being transmitted to the tips of his fingers.

"What's that for?"

I silently eye the permanent black marker.

"You'll see," he says with a slight smirk.

"Uhhh. . ."

~*~

I stand up admiring our work, our initials and the small plus sign could almost be mistaken for the shadow of the crevice between the concrete seams. In small lettering it reads our initials, in each of our handwritings.

AD + AM

"I like it."

It was our small sign of something new and something different. It's . . . us.