Under | stephen curry

number

Weekends had gone by since the Friday confrontation with the school's principal, as both parties involved were completely bothered and sleep-deprived of what things had come to be.

Protagonist's 

 I've made up my mind to not be a coward and just do it.

♫ FML by Arizona Zervas - playing

"There's no telling where this might go but I'll take my chances either way." I talk to myself as I skate through campus, manning myself up.

Come and fuck my life up baby, fuck my life up ♫

I finally come to a stop, rubbing my hands together and slapping myself on the face. C'mon Lovi, nothing will happen if you don't initiate.

I start walking up to the usual crowd of students; they just can't stop following them every damn where, can they? Squeezing my way through the people, I raise my whole right arm.

"Excuse me, what's with the big clog!?" I exclaim, making sure to gather people's attention, enough for them to turn to me and naturally make a path towards the group of hoopers. 

I then firmly stopped and held my ground right in front of the one and only Mr. Forehead Curry. "you—" I start off with a mean tone; quickly realizing this, I cough to adjust my voice.

"So, I know it's been all too chaotic and we've been at each other's throat since the very first day but—" "IS THIS A CONFESSION!?" screamed one of the juniors from the crowd, completely cutting me off and causing havoc to the students in the scene. Some of the girls were ready to pull my hair whilst some of the guys were trying to stop them; some were fighting amongst the sea of people; and some were cheering for us.

"Fucking hell. . ." was all I could say with a face of disbelief and disgust. It was not long till the pushing got to the front, causing me to stumble back and onto someone's chest. 

"—but?" he calmly asks despite the situation we're in, his mates trying to make their way into the sea of people to stop the war from way back the line. "man. . ." I mutter out, and he seems to notice my struggle with trying to push and balance the guy in front of me, stopping a possible situation in which I get flattened onto the ground. Grabbing both of my shoulders firmly and turning me around, I was now practically being squished by his man boobs.

"Let's get outta here," he says before embracing me with his left arm and shielding the back of my head with his right, seemingly protecting me from any possible danger as he makes our way out of the mess of a crowd. 

. . .Why does he smell like baby cologne?

As we finally made our way out of there, he switched his hold from the protective embrace to pushing me off of him softly, even dusting his polo and tie as if I had dirtied him or something. "You done?" I ask, quite irritated as he looks my way, grinning smugly, knowing that he was winning by annoying me.

Breaking our contact, he turns around and starts walking off to class, hands in his pockets. I watch as his figure slowly gets smaller and further in disbelief; I expected him to drag us out of there to talk properly, yet why'd I even hope for such a thing with your local egoistical and popular kid cliché in high school?

"Lee~ ain't you coming? Bell will almost ring." he calls out to me as I break from my trance, looking over in his direction only to see him approaching me. "C'mon now, you don't wanna be late or something, especially with what the old man said," he says, catching me completely off guard. "I bet he'd also connect our tardiness or some shit." he adds, rubbing his nape and averting his eyes from mine as he now stands in front of me.

"You're not so bad yourself, Curry." I blurt out, making his head snap towards me. "Did you just—"

Ringggg

"five. . . eight. . . " "Wait, what are you—" "two. . ." I continued, gesturing to him my phone, to which his eyes widen as he panickily pats his pants for his phone. "four. . . four. . ." "Fuck—ah, hey! You got a pen I could borrow?" he reaches out to a random passerby with a small smile as the latter hands her pen without hesitation, visually fangirling and fake fainting on her friends from behind once Curry turned to run to me.

"five eight two, five eight two—" he keeps repeating as he attempts to write it down on his sweaty palm. "ARE YOU FUCKING," he let out angrily as he decided to write it on his sneakers instead.

"four. . .pfhJD—" I almost let out a laugh at his struggle, trying my best to suppress it by covering my mouth. "five eight two four four four. . ." he recites, now sitting in the middle of the hallway on the cold, tiled floor, writing my damn phone number on his seemingly brand new, shining white sneakers.

"Yeah, sixfivethreeone." I purposely rapped the last part, making him snap his head upwards to look up at me. "SIX FIVE WHAT NOW, SIX FIVE THREEN? THE FUCK IS THREEN?" he asks, still scribbling on his white shoes as a droplet of sweat drips down from his temple.

"Yep, message me when you're available to study." I say, trying my hardest not to show a smile or a single trace of laughter, and with that, I quickly skate away from the scene because I am about to bust my lung out any second.