though romeo had not anticipated it, he certainly did not have a problem with sitting next to you in one of those silly little bumper cars that they have at almost every fair. him and his friends had only gone so they could ride cool rollaercoasters and maybe sneak into the tent where they offered beer, but somehow - it had been maxim who had suggested it - the group if boys ended up in the line to the bumper cars; behind your friend group

and maxim, being the extroverted 'for the plot'- dude he was, had immediately tapped your shoulder, after thoroughly counting all the heads he was sure belonged to your friendgroup, and had observed that there were enough of you to each sit in one of their cars. apparently everybody deemed that an awesome idea - not that romeo didn't like it, no, he was tipsy enough to not care, he was simply taken aback by the speed it had all been arranged - and only three minutes and four dollars later the boy found himself in a small car with you

people knew romeo, he was popular at school and around his hockey colleagues, amongst the youth of his small town and the elderly people whose dogs he walked occasionally. a social butterfly was what people had titled him, and it was true; small talk came easy to him, equally did not-so small talk or comfort, he was friendly and polite and incredibly helpful; perfect, that was what he was

you were not a face of his town's youth; which was good, these popular groups only consisted of shallow, attractive people or try-hards attempting to be tough by smoking at the age of thirteen. the lack of connections was likely the reason you hadn't recognized him; he wasn't a celebrity, after all, but close enough

"turn, turn, he's tryna crash into us!", romeo warned you with a hearty laugh and reached over to tug the steering wheel over and escape a menacingly racing sammy

"so," he began when you had turned the car to chase after maxim who had his arm slung around your bestfriend flirtatiously, "I don't think I caught your name"