Steve Randle has been dumped. His confidence is shattered -- and when he attempts to rekindle it, his best friend steals the girl. But eventually, he meets another girl. She's very pristine, very proper -- but is she truly as innocent as Steve thinks?
Setting: Set shortly after The Outsiders. Johnny and Dallas are dead. Soda was never dating Sandy. Steve was dumped by Evie.
Please R&R. This is my second fic. My first was a simple one-shot about Soda&Sandy.
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Steve Randle had been dumped—and not just "we'll-get-back-together-eventually" dumped. But honestly, forevermore, "slapped-across-the-face-first" dumped. And it sort of hurt, too. He'd never been dumped before, and the only way he could describe the feeling was an ache, as though something was tugging on his heartstrings. It wasn't a gentle sort of tug, either. It was a hard tug.
But despite the aching tug, Steve was able to recover. He didn't know if he'd been in love with Evie—but he did doubt it. He didn't know what love felt like, but whatever it did feel like had to be stronger than what he'd had with Evie. But still…although his recovery was relatively quick, he was embarrassed—and he had good reason to be, too. Being dumped for the first time ever didn't make him feel real hot.
"Hey, Steve—Steve Randle—quit your spacing out and hand me a wrench, will you?" Sodapop Curtis, Steve's best friend, nagged. Steve reached for the heavy wrench slightly reluctantly, but gave it to his companion nonetheless.
Soda surveyed Steve's expression as he accepted the wrench. It was stuck somewhere between the line of irritated and ashamed, and it had been that way for several weeks now. Soda was beginning to get anxious.
"A breakup's never hit you so hard, buddy," Soda commented, leaning over the hood of the blue Mustang he was fixing up.
Steve heaved a groan of exasperation and leaned up against the car, his muscled arms pressed against his chest. He really wasn't enjoying this aching feeling.
"I ain't ever been broken up with before," Steve grumbled, lighting up a cigarette and taking a long drag on it. Sodapop could only nod in subtle agreement, knowing that his friend's words were true. Steve had never been broken up with by a girl—he had always ended relationships with his female partners.
"And you know Evie was a real catch, too," Steve continued. His words grew more venomous with every syllable. Despite being embarrassed, he was also downright pissed.
"Yeah," Soda murmured, wiping a sheen of perspiration off his forehead with his filthy sleeve. Soda had learned over the years that agreeing with Steve was a way to avoid any conflicts. If he said "yeah" to most everything, there'd be no room for arguments.
"Anyway…" Steve went on, satisfied with Soda's quick agreement. "I gotta find myself a new girl, Soda. I've been without Evie for three weeks and it's killing me." Steve released his grip on his chest and tipped his head to the side, groaning a little at the absence of a broad. He hadn't accompanied himself to that girlfriendless feeling, nor did he want to. He and Evie had been together for a while and he didn't feel like watching flirtatious girl's crowd Soda like honey attracted flies without having a chick of his own to lean on.
"Yeah," Soda said, complying once more. He wasn't actually listening—usually he really did listen if Steve seemed upset about something, but for now he was mostly focused on the Mustang in front of him.
"Yeah…" Steve's sentence drifted off as another customer, a petite, female customer, entered the garage. His body gave a sudden jolt towards her, which he assumed was because he hadn't laid eyes on another broad in nearly a month now. But he'd picked a good one to start with. As he'd already noticed, she was somewhat petite—definitely shorter than him, reaching no higher than five-foot-two. And she was a fiery girl, meaning a red-head. He hadn't ever been with one of those—mostly blondes and brunettes laid their sites on him. Fire heads and darker-haired girls were yet to come, but there was a first time for everything.
"Soda…" Steve tapped his friend on the shoulder, but Soda shooed him away for the moment.
"Hold on, Steve…" he grumbled, fiddling with the insides of the Mustang. Steve sighed quietly and walked over to the pretty-looking girl, taking matters into his own hands. After all, it was his place. He did work here, and she did look like she wanted to ask a question.
"Hey, can I help you?" he called, pacing himself as he reached the girl. He didn't want to seem too forceful—even walking over to a girl oddly could set her off. Some of them were sensitive little broads.
"Oh...hi." The unidentified girl looked up at Steve, although she wasn't showing even the slightest trace of interest in him. Usually if a girl was into Steve, she'd naturally size him up. She wasn't. "Do you work here?"
"Yeah." Steve smiled toothily and scratched the back of his neck innocently. The girl only scarcely returned his grin. She had her sights set on Soda out of the corner of her eye, and Steve's fingers twitched enviously. Nine out of ten times, the chick Steve was into would be interested in Soda—that's why he always tried to hook up with girls when Soda wasn't around. Sure, he liked double dating—it sort of took the pressure out of being "romantic", especially if he wasn't in the mood—but picking up on girls was almost impossible when Soda was around. Who would pick Steve over Soda, honestly? He couldn't blame the broads. Soda was just naturally more…beautiful. Though he and Soda always had good times joking around together, it was sometimes difficult being friend's with Soda.
"Well…" The fire-head's eyes were fully focused on Sodapop by this point, and Steve was now completely let down. This girl was obviously not interested him in the slightest, although Soda was all the way on the other end of the room. "I…I think I want that guy's help," the broad said politely, pointing across the room to Steve's best friend, "but thanks…anyway." She offered Steve a tiny smile and strode off. Steve almost wanted to slap her, despite her being a girl and all. Almost. But only because her smile had been almost sympathetic. He didn't need any sympathy. He could be just as charming and smooth with the ladies as Soda could, and he didn't need Goddamn movie star good looks to do it. All he needed was some booze, a bar, and some willing broads….
That meant it was time to call Two-Bit.