A/N: Hi it's been so long since I've written on here, but I've missed writing so I'm back. I haven't updated "That's Life For You" in years, so I decided to pull the first three chapters and revise it and repost.
Disclaimer: I do not will I ever own the outsiders or the characters from the book.
Special thanks to my loves Lianna and Olivia for reading this over.
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The air is thick with smoke from people's cigarettes, and the music is blaring so loud that the whole house is vibrating. I draw in a deep breath trying desperately to calm my nerves, but all I inhale is smoke causing me to cough. The guy closest to me finds that amusing, and he laughs. I feel my face heat up in embarrassment, and all I wanna do at that moment is turn and run out of the house into the cool night air. I don't though. I force myself to push my way through the crowd and into the kitchen.
I spot him almost immediately. He's leaning against the wall, a beer in his hand. Suddenly, he looks up, and a slow smirk forms on his face when our eyes meet. He doesn't make a move towards me though, and I know, as usual, I will have to be the one to go to him, which I do.
Wordlessly, I take the bottle from his fingers and take a long drink, the unfamiliar liquid burning the back of my throat. He watches me with an amused expression and takes the beer back, drains the rest, and sets the now empty bottle on the counter.
"Aren't you out past your curfew, Curtis? What would big brother say?" He asks with that same smirk playing on his lips.
"He won't say anything," I retort back wrapping my arms around myself. Because he won't find out, I add silently. At least I pray he won't. I can only imagine what would happen if Darry ever did find out. He'd probably hand deliver me over to the state.
I watch as he grabs two more beers from the icebox, pops the top of one, and hands it over to me. Obediently I down almost half of it.
"That a girl, Curtis," he says, and I lap up his approval like it's water, and I'm starving in the desert.
Grabbing my hand, he pulls me through the kitchen and up the stairs. My stomach is starting to flutter when he pushes open a door and tugs me inside.
The room is dark, and it takes my eyes a minute to adjust. The palms of my hands are starting to get tingly; something they always do when I'm nervous. My heart is pounding so loud that I can hear it in my ears. The urge to flee is strong.
His hands are on my waist, and he's pulling me against his body. "Tim," I whisper before his mouth covers mine. I push every thought out of my mind and just focus on him. How his touch makes me feel. Wanted.
His fingers travel under my blouse causing me to shiver. Lazily, his fingers moved to and down my sides, his lips moving more roughly against mine.
His hot breath is on my neck, and my back hits the bed. This will be worth it, I tell myself when he begins to unbutton my blouse. I don't push his hands away like I usually do. I know if I stop him this time that will be it.
His hands are groping me roughly, and my skirts hiked up. I want to tell him to stop, but I can't make the words come out. It doesn't last nearly as long as I thought it would. He rolls off me, and I sit up slowly.
He flips the light switch, and the room is flooded in brightness. I blink rapidly from the harshness of the light and watch him button his jeans back up. I fumble with the buttons on my blouse and try to get them done up with shaky hands.
"Where are you going?" I hear myself ask when he pulls on his boots.
"I have stuff I need to take care of," he replies nonchalantly.
"Oh," I say trying to sound as careless as him but failing.
"Listen." His voice is causal and I look anywhere but him, already knowing what was about to come out of his mouth. "I don't think this thing between us is gonna work out."
"No?" I bite down hard on my bottom lip as it begins to tremble and will myself not to start crying. Not in front of him.
"Your brothers wouldn't be thrilled about it." I rolled my eyes at this. If he cared what my brothers thought than he would've never got me in bed.
"Besides," he went on, opening the door. "You were a pretty bad lay."
The tears are threatening to spill over, and I somehow manage to make it outside before the tears slip out of my eyes. I run down the street, the tears blurring my vision making it hard to see, but I want to get as far away from that house as I can. I don't stop running until I can't hear the music anymore. I lean against a street sign as the sob I've been so desperately trying to keep in escapes. I cry for a long time. The kind of cry that comes from deep in your stomach, and no matter how hard you try or how ridiculous you probably look, you just can't stop.
My face is wet, and the wind stings my cheeks. Despite it being the beginning of summer, the air still holds a bitter chill, and I shiver. I have no tears left, so I start my walk home. A gust of wind hits me, and I swear I can hear my dad's voice in it.
We raised you better than this, it seemed to say. And it was right. My parents did raise me better than to allow myself to be taken in by a no-good hood.
"I'm sorry," I whisper into the night air.
The streets are empty, but it's not long before I hear another set of foot steps behind me. I'm not sure if I should slow down and let the person pass or speed up. I hate to admit it, but I'm a little scared. It's not like Tulsa is the murder capital of the world, but we still have our fair share of weirdos lurking around.
I only get more scared when the footsteps get closer behind me, and I don't think about it before taking off in a run. Sure enough the person behind also begins to run.
I try to run faster, but an arm wraps around my waist, and I struggle against it, panic rising inside me.
"Let me go," I nearly scream out, continuing to struggle.
"Cassie calm the hell down, would ya?"
I stop struggling. Even though I haven't heard that voice in almost a year, I instantly recognize it.
"Curly, what are you doing?" I demand angrily, pushing away from him when he releases me. "Why were you following me?"
"Why were you running?" he replies, and I glare at him.
"Because you were chasing me!"
"Because," he says slowly like he's talking to someone stupid, "you were running."
My heart finally begins to return to normal, and my breathing is regular again after running.
I don't feel like arguing about why I was running anymore, so instead I say, "I didn't know you were back."
"Got out a few days ago," he says, falling into step beside me when I start walking.
I glance over at him, and even in the dark I could tell how much he changed. He was taller. And his cheek bones were more prominent. No boy should have cheekbones that nice.
"You shouldn't be wandering the streets alone at night, Curtis," he says, and I scoff.
"Is that why you're walking with me? To protect me?" I ask sarcastically. "And don't call me Curtis." He sounded too much like Tim when he did, and I didn't like it.
"Naw." He digs in around his pocket, and pulls out a carton of cigarettes. He offers me one, and I shake my head. Curly shrugs, and takes one out for himself and sticks it between his lips. "I was actually kinda hoping you'd protect me."
I roll my eyes, but a small smile tugs at my lips despite myself. "You're a real riot." We're almost to my house. "Why were you following me?" I ask curiously.
He shrugs and flicks his ashes. "Saw you run out of the party. You seemed upset, and if something happened to you I didn't want to have to be the one to explain to Darry why."
"You were there?" I ask, and he nods. He knows what I did with Tim, I think miserably. Is everyone gonna find out? I can't help but wonder.
We're at my house, and he leans against the chain link fence. "You gonna have to sneak in?" He asks and I shake my head no. "Darry's working late and Soda and Ponyboy went to the rodeo. They should still be out," I explain.
He flicks away his cigarette. "See ya around, Curtis."
"Cassie." I snap at him. "I told you not to call me that."
He just smirks, and I give him a dirty look before turning to go inside.
"Wait!" he calls after me, and I stop but don't turn around.
"What?" I ask feeling a little wary, and I wait for a snide comment that I'm sure is coming. Instead, I hear him say softly, "I was sorry to hear about your folks. They were good people."
I turned slowly, and watched his retreating back.