It was Friday night.
You and L. Joe were at the bright basketball courts with Teen Top. Their other friends/acquaintances were there also. All of them appeared gang-like with tattoos, scars, silver necklaces, caps, etc. They were all laughing and chatting busily on the bleachers.
But you and L. Joe were actually playing basketball. He was wearing a gray shirt halfway with a white wife beater underneath. A chain was attached to his faded baggy jeans and his white Nikes were pristine clean. A lollipop was in his mouth. L. Joe was teaching you how to play basketball. You were in front of him as he taught you how to dribble. With a flick of his wrists, the ball easily landed in the hoop. You clapped. He smiled and handed you the ball, “You try.”
You bit your lip, jumped, and threw the ball. But it bounced off the edge.
L. Joe chuckled, “It’s okay, baby. Try again.” He gave you the ball but you failed again. “Watch. Like this.” L. Joe pulled you in front of him and positioned you in the right stand to throw the ball.
“What’s this?” A girl asked. The two of you looked up. 2 girls in miniskirts, high heels, and off-shoulder tops were popping their gums in a delinquent manner with their arms crossed. “So it’s true? You have a girlfriend, L. Joe oppa?” “Yes.” He went back to helping you with the ball.
The girl with the long hair came over, “Omo, oppa. You smoke now. Naughty you.” She gave him a wink. He took out his lollipop and flung it behind him, “It’s a fucking lollipop. And why are you calling me oppa when you’re older than me?”
The girl pushed you away and leaned close to him. She traced her long, red nail up his chest, “Cause you’re so sexy. But if you want, you can call me noona.”
L. Joe slapped her hand away, “Get your paw off of me. And you just shoved my girl.” He pulled you back in front of him.
The girl frowned, “I’m disappointed in your taste in girls.”
“I’m disappointed you’re still hitting on a high school student when you’re 23. Cougar.” L. Joe spat next to her 7 inch stilettos.
The girls left in a huff.
“Don’t mind them. They have no life.” He put the ball in your hand and helped you throw it. It landed in the hoop. “YEAH, BABY!” L. Joe held out his hands. You laughed and high-fived him. He laced his fingers through yours and smiled.
You smiled and searched his eyes. You asked, “Why don’t you smoke?”
He blinked in surprise at your sudden question but leaned close to your face and smiled, “Do you want me to taste like ashtray when I kiss you?”
You shook your head, “I’m just asking because you hang out in that environment a lot. None of it…influenced you?”
L. Joe smiled and shook his head, “I was never for ruining my own body with toxic. I’ll tell you now that I have never put a cigarette to my lips. All those drug rumors are false. I would never ever do any of that bullshit. One. It’s nasty. Two. It’ll ruin my handsome face.” You rolled your eyes. “And three.” L. Joe softly brushed your cheek with the back of his fingers and curled a strand of your hair behind your ear. He cupped your chin and gently tilted your face up, “You are my anti-drug.”
You felt your knees weaken.
L. Joe deeply kissed you and you willingly kissed him back.
“Ugh.” The jealous girls rolled their eyes and crossed their arms.
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