A/N: This is 3 years in the making. Thanks to somebluedecember, EspressoShot, and Mars on Fire for reading the earlier draft, encouraging me to finish it, and beta-ing the final piece, respectively. You all rock.
Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders. I promise to put them back when I'm done.
Sylvia Taylor wrinkles her nose in disgust. Her boyfriend was supposed to pick her up for Jimmy's party at seven o'clock. Granted, he is usually ten minutes late since he always has to borrow someone else's car, but it's just past seven thirty and he still hasn't arrived. He doesn't even call to let her know that she needs to wait for him. Then again, he usually doesn't bother to call anyway.
She wonders why she puts up with it all.
"Damn you, Dallas Winston," she curses, grounding her fourth cigarette out on the steps in front of her house.
She huffs and stands up, fanning out her new skirt that she picked out to wear specifically for this party. Her hair managed to curl perfectly - not a strand out of place - and her make-up is flawless. The only thing she is missing is her date.
Sylvia and Dallas have a fairly good relationship. She's sturdier than most girls; she doesn't cry, doesn't whine and doesn't protest when Dally plays it rough in bed. He has a tough reputation and an attitude to back it up. If another guy is bothering Sylvia, she can always count on Dallas. Those are the moments she likes the best. When Dallas is considerate of how she's feeling and willing to do something about it, she sees a side that's usually shielded from the rest of the world.
He shows her compassion that he doesn't let anyone else see. Lying on the couch watching an old black and white movie, he would run his hand up and down her arm and lightly kiss her temple as she lay on his chest, smiling. When driving her to the Dingo or Jays, he would rest his hand on the back of the seat, playing with a strand of her blond hair. During an afternoon at the park, he would sigh happily as she massaged his back, her fingers digging into the course muscles under his skin.
In fact, the only time she ever sees him show that type of compassion to anyone but her is with the horses. In particular, Lady, the palomino mare that Dally usually rode, receives a lot of his attention. But when he looks over at her and gives her that smirk, she knows that she is more important than anything else.
It's a wonder, really, why if they get along so well they are broken up half the time.
Usually it has to do with his attitude. His tough reputation is a double-edged sword, because he always ends up getting arrested for fighting, intoxication or some other disorderly conduct in order to maintain his rep. When Dallas is in jail, Sylvia doesn't really have anyone to hang out with. Sure, there's Kathy, Evie, Sandy and a couple girls who date some of the boys in the Shepard Gang, but it's never any fun to be the third wheel at a party. And even if he isn't in jail, if his buddies are around you can be sure that Dallas isn't going to play the role of the "good, doting boyfriend".
She looks down at her watch and groans. Speaking of parties, Dally is now forty-five minutes late. For whatever reason, she knows he isn't going to show. He's going to pay for this, but for now, she needs to get a ride to that party. She'd be damned if it's Friday night and she stays home.
She walks inside, attempting to come up with an idea in order to get to Buck's roadhouse. Her father has the car tonight, so borrowing his vehicle is out of the question. On the other hand, she could always call Tim. Whenever Dallas got his ass thrown in jail, she would often hang out with the Shepard gang leader. She knew it riled Dallas up inside, but in the end she and Dallas get back together so there's never any harm.
In the kitchen, her younger sister is on the phone, gossiping to her middle school friends.
"Yeah," Janet says, smiling into the earpiece. "I totally think that she is way out of her league- hey!"
Sylvia grabs the phone away from Janet and holds it up to her ear. "Sorry, I need the phone, hon," she says, before hanging up, not waiting for an answer.
"Sylvia, you are such a bitch!" Janet screams. "I was talking to Grace!"
"And I need to call someone to find a ride to the party. You can talk to her later," Sylvia reasons. She dials the seven digits for Tim's number and waits for someone to pick up. Janet stomps out of the room while Sylvia taps her foot against the linoleum floor in anticipation.
"Hello?" Shit. It's the younger Shepard brother, Curly.
"Curly, it's Sylvia. I need to talk to Tim."
"Tim's not here, what do ya need?"
"I need to talk to Tim. Dallas hasn't shown up tonight and I need a ride to Jimmy's party."
"Oh, I guess you didn't hear, huh?" Sylvia can practically see the smirk growing on his face.
"What happened, Charles?" She sneers his name.
"Don't call me Charles, bitch. Tim and Dallas got arrested earlier for fighting outside of the Dingo. They're probably gonna to be in for the night."
"Damn," Sylvia mutters. Now how is she supposed to get to the party?
"You want me to give you a lift, baby? You can always pay me back … later." He practically oozes into the phone.
Sylvia sticks out her tongue in disgust, even though she knows Curly can't see her. "No, I'll find my own way." She hangs up the phone before she can hear Curly's reply.
She leans against the wall and sighs.
How the hell is she going to get to Buck's?
"I dunno, you guys. I'm not much of a partier. Too busy, ya know? Lots of people."
"C'mon, Johnnycakes! Ya gotta live a little, man. Tell you what, I'll get you a beer, we can find a nice lady friend and then- ."
"No, Two-Bit. I don't need a lady friend." Johnny frowns. "I'm perfectly happy the way I am, thanks. Don't want no beer neither." Johnny has seen what alcohol does to his folks, and even though with his friends it seems harmless, it isn't something he looks forward to.
Besides, he's tried it once or twice, and he doesn't really get what the whole fuss is about. Beer doesn't taste that good. Whiskey and the harder stuff aren't much better. He prefers a coke at the Dingo over alcohol any day.
"Johnny, don't worry. Just have fun. You don't have to drink if you don't want to. And you can admire the ladies from afar if you want." Sodapop smiles.
"What do you mean, admiring ladies from afar? Sodapop Curtis, have you been ogling?"
Soda turns around and grins at his girlfriend, Sandy. "No, baby. Just tryin' to help Johnny, right fellas?" He turns around and winks at his friends.
"Sandy, if I were you I would be more worried about other girls watching Soda instead of vice versa." Evie says, walking side-by-side with Steve's arm wrapped around her waist.
The group of friends had just left the Curtis house, leaving a tired Darry and a left-out Ponyboy. Usually Johnny would have stayed with Ponyboy – either to watch a movie or just hang out – but tonight the guys had insisted he come along.
"It's all right, Johnny. I have some homework to do, anyway," Ponyboy had told him, giving a glance to Darry who was in his room having his back rubbed by Soda. "Maybe we can catch a movie this weekend? There's this really cool one coming to the theatre – Gone with the Wind. I read the book once and it was really good."
"Sure, Pony. We can do that."
"C'mon, Johnnycakes! The ladies and booze are waitin'!" Two-Bit called from the door as Soda walked out, pulling on his jacket.
Johnny looked at Ponyboy one last time before he leaves. "It's probably not going to be any fun, anyway. Y'know how these parties are."
"Don't get too crazy, y'hear, Johnny Cade?" Ponyboy slapped Johnny's shoulder.
"Nah. I'll be fine. See ya tomorrow, Pony." Johnny waved and then headed outside the door.
The sound of Hank Williams is nearly frustrating Sylvia to tears. Dallas had gotten himself hauled in again, and so had Tim. Buck won't stop staring at her breasts and Robbie Hills of Brumly gave her an improper proposition in the direction of the stairwell. For once Sylvia wishes that she could meet a nice boy who knew how to treat a lady. A boy who doesn't get drunk, thrown into jail, or expect her to go upstairs without a proper introduction.
Yes, Sylvia Taylor is pissed.
Getting up from the stool at the bar where she had sat for the past two hours, she smoothes out the wrinkles from her skirt and takes a look around the roadhouse. Gordy, the Brumly Boys' leader and reason for the out-of-control party, is in the telephone booth making out with Mindy Patterson. Rich Newson, one of Curly's friends, is slowly sneaking his hand up his girlfriend's skirt. And Harry Burns is hopelessly trying to woo some girl in a booth near the door. Men, they're filthy animals with only one thing on their mind: Sex.
Scowling at the men in her sight, she peers around until she sees the group of girls that she's looking for.
Head held high – and focusing hard on putting one foot in front of the other like she had never drunk alcohol in her life - she struts over to a booth crowded with three couples and one odd boy out.
"Evie. Sandy. Kathy. Long time no see." Sylvia greets the three girls individually, purposefully ignoring the guys.
"Hey, Sylvia. Where's Dallas?" Sandy asks.
Sylvia scowls once again. "He got locked up today," Steve answers for her, his arm tightening around Evie's shoulders. Soda leans over and mutters something in Sandy's ear. The couple gets up and moves to the dance floor behind Sylvia, where Hank Williams is still singing his god-awful songs.
"And Tim got locked up, too, didn't he?" Two-Bit asks, as though Sylvia isn't even there.
"Yeah, that's right. That must suck for both of her options to be gone for the night."
"Does she have a third man? Just in case the other two don't show?"
"Two-Bit!" Kathy smacks Two-Bit in the chest lightly. "Don't be mean to Sylvia."
"I mean, when the first two are out, I think she just shows up and looks around. Y'know, there are always plenty of guys around," Steve tells Two-Bit, as though Sylvia's not even there.
"Steve, stop." Evie pulls Steve's arm off of her shoulder to help him get the meaning, but Steve and Two-Bit continue to talk about Sylvia's choice in guys while Kathy and Evie sit, trying to drop subtle hints to their boyfriends.
The knot growing thicker in her throat, Sylvia stands there, with her arms across her chest, tapping her foot lightly. Boys. They're so stupid.
"Hey, guys, c'mon." Sylvia looks down at the young boy who just spoke. His skin is slightly darker than Steve or Two-Bit's, but he isn't black. His hair is the color of the midnight sky, heavily greased back like every other boy in this town. And the tuff scar on his face is visible even in the dark lighting of the bar.
And he's standing up for her.
Who the hell is this kid?
"Johnny, it's all right." Steve puts his arm back around Evie's shoulders. He tilts her head towards him, but when he leans in to kiss her, she backs up and gets out of the booth.
"No. Maybe next time you'll pay more attention to me instead of putting down my friends."
"Baby, c'mon." Steve holds out his hand while Kathy gets out of the booth as well.
"Do you want to get a drink, Sylvia?" Kathy asks, grabbing Two-Bit's beer as the three of them begin to leave.
Even though she had a couple drinks already, Sylvia can't help but take Kathy up on her offer. "Sure." Giving one last glance at the boy – Johnny – who stood up for her, Sylvia follows Kathy and Evie to the bar.
She knows that he plays pinball during the day while his friends are at school. Sylvia decides that skipping one day isn't going to call the truant officer, and heads over to the bowling alley just before noon.
As she expected, he's there, focusing intently on the little aluminum ball that bounces around inside the game. Straightening out her shirt and double checking her make-up in the dark glass of the window, she heads over.
Placing her hands on the top of the game so that he can't see – not that it matters because he looks at her immediately, anyway – she stares into those big, dark eyes.
"Hey," she says, giving a small smirk that she knows drives boys crazy.
"Uh, hey," Johnny replies. He reaches back and rubs the back of his head. "Dally is still in the cooler for another couple weeks –"
"I don't care about Dally."
"You don't?" He raises his eyebrows, and for a brief second lets his eyes move from hers to the ring on her finger. "Why you still got his ring on?"
Ignoring the question, she leans forward on top of the machine. Her pink blouse is modest, but she knows that even the smallest view of skin can make boys go wild. She's right; even the innocent boy of the Curtis gang can't help a small glance.
"What's your name, kid?" she asks. Not that she has to ask. His name is Johnny and he's not a jerk like all the other boys.
He gulps, his attention refocused on her face. "Johnny."
Sylvia smirks. "So, Johnny. Why aren't you in school?"
"I don't go to school." He reaches over for his coke and takes a sip. His eyes don't meet hers and that's how Sylvia knows that she has control. "What about you?"
"Eh. Didn't feel like going today. Have you eaten lunch yet?"
He looks up, like he's trying to figure out what she's doing. "No," he says slowly.
She stands back up with her back to the pinball machine. Her head falls back and she lets her hair loose. "Me neither. I can cook real good though, if you want."
She looks over her shoulder with a look that she picked up from Twiggy in the latest Vogue magazine. Chest out, accenting her skinny waist, and letting her blond curls dangle in his sight. She watches him tense up like he's afraid to say yes and afraid to say no. He bites his lip but doesn't tear his eyes from hers.
He doesn't even notice when she slowly guides her hand along the machine before taking a hold of part of his jean jacket. "So?"
He shakes his head like he's getting himself out of a funk and backs up, almost falling backwards. "Sorry, I mean … maybe next time," he says in a hurry before he runs out the door.
Sylvia stares after the timid and innocent boy. Oh yes, there will be a next time.
"Johnnycakes, you okay?" Johnny looks up to see Ponyboy coming through the door, his books being placed on the floor near the front door. As Ponyboy takes off his shoes, Johnny places his forehead into his hand like he's got a headache.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little tired."
"Well, if ya need to, you can take a nap. I think Darry is going to be home soon. Are you staying for dinner?" Ponyboy's voice grows faint as he walks down the hall to his room.
"Nah," Johnny replies. He can't be around anyone right now. It's weird, but all he can really think about is Sylvia.
Johnny's never been interested in girls. Or rather, they've never been interested in him. Hanging around good-looking guys like Soda, funny guys like Two-Bit, or even the bad guys like Dally has left little for the girls to be interested in. Johnny's fine with that. At least, he was until now.
Until now, when a girl started showing interest in him. He's not sure why Sylvia, of all girls, has singled out him, of all boys, but he's not going to lie to himself. It's kind of nice.
He thinks back to how she practically bent backward over the pinball machine. It almost reminded him of those pin-up posters that Two-Bit has on his walls of all those blondes. She gave him that sultry look with her eyes pointed right at him that made him feel like he was completely naked in a crowd of people.
Johnny shifts on the couch.
"Johnny?" Ponyboy comes back out with his homework. "Are you staying tonight?"
"Nah. Sorry, but I think I'm just going to go. Thanks for asking, though." Johnny stands up, grabbing his jean jacket and heads out the door.
"All right. See ya tomorrow."
It's April so it's warm enough to walk outside without a jacket. For that, Johnny is thankful because he's feeling all hot and bothered, and he's pretty sure it's not just the temperature.
Damn, that girl is on his mind. And the way he acted after she asked him to lunch – at least, that's what Johnny thinks she was doing; Girls don't exactly come out and say that stuff outright – he'll be surprised if she ever even notices him again.
At the same time – perfect body be damned – she's Sylvia. Sylvia Taylor. She gossips. Others gossip about her. She's known for sleeping around. She skips school a lot. She's Dallas Winton's girlfriend.
Johnny stops in his tracks.
Dallas Winston's girlfriend.
Oh shit.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
Oh fuck.
Why didn't he think about that? How could he not remember that the reason why he knew who Sylvia is? She's Dallas' girlfriend? He shouldn't even really know her, let alone be talking with her and remembering that look that she gave him at the bowling alley.
Man, if Dallas knew that Sylvia was talking to him and giving him looks and inviting him over for lunch… he wouldn't put it past Dallas to beat the crap out of him.
His house comes into view as he turns the corner onto Huron Street. It's falling apart. The screen is falling off, beer bottles litter the front yard, and the window overlooking the dead flowerbed has a crack in it from two weeks ago when his mom threw a wine bottle at his dad during one of their many fights.
He walks in, closing the door softly behind him. His mom doesn't like it when the door slams. Johnny pokes his head into the living room and sees her lying on the couch, watching one of those soap operas with a glass of cheap, red wine in her hand. He turns to go to his room, but her voice stops him.
"Did you eat dinner, child?"
"No, ma."
"Hm," she hums, and returns to her soap opera without saying another word.
Johnny's room is sparse; there is only a bed and a dresser. His possessions are few, but practical. Beside the necessary clothes and the blankets covering the bed, he keeps a pack or two of cigarettes underneath the mattress, a book he took from the school library and never returned, and a picture of his parents on top of the dresser.
He flops down on the bed, ignoring the growling in his stomach, and closes his eyes despite the sunlight still streaming through the window.
But once he closes his eyes he sees her immediately. He's not sure if he's attracted to her, or the idea of her – the idea that a girl is paying attention to him. He tries to think about something else – the new car at the DX that Steve was working on, the homework assignment Ponyboy was complaining about yesterday, the new pinball machine in the bowling alley …
Crap.
Groaning into the pillow, he wonders if he's ever going to be able to get this girl out of his head.
Sylvia – as much as she hates to admit it – knows her way around. She cringes. No girl likes to be known as a tramp, but Sylvia doesn't like to be alone. She craves people, excitement, and attention.
Her first was literally the boy next door. It was a classic romance - growing up next-door, sharing their first kiss, and eventually going much, much farther. Then he hit up a grocery store, stole a car to get away and was – of course – caught by the police and sent to jail.
With her boyfriend in jail for a long time, Sylvia first dreamed of the timeless romance. She would write letters every week, and in return he was supposed to tell her how rough prison was and how much he missed her. When he finally got out, she would wait in a white dress outside of the tall, dark gates for her man to walk outside. Then he would pick her up, kiss her passionately and drive them off into the sunset.
But, the letters never came and after six months of hopelessly waiting, Sylvia headed to Buck's bar to drown her sorrows with some cheap whiskey and a fake ID. That was when she started talking with Tim Shepard. He was a boy who was in her grade at school – he got held back one year – and very, very good-looking.
And tough, too. Not one of those pansy middle-class boys, or snotty Socs.
Too many shots of whiskey led to a warm feeling in her stomach, and after six months of being alone - waiting on a boy who would never answer – Tim Shepard suddenly seemed a very good-looking, very tough, and a very good answer to her unsolved dilemma.
So they stumbled up the stairs, ripped off each other's clothes, and spent the rest of the night in one of Buck's bedrooms.
The next morning she had a pounding headache. Tim crawled out of bed, pulled on his underwear and jeans, and smirked.
"Let me know if you're feeling lonely again, Syl."
And then he left.
That … relationship – for lack of a better description – continued for a while, on and off, with no real attachments. Sometimes he would take her out to breakfast in the morning, and sometimes she would catch him bringing another girl up the stairs. But it beat the alternative of having no one at all.
It was the horse stables where she first met Dallas Winston. She had just finished riding for the day and was leading her horse into the stables when she first saw him.
He had blond hair that was so light it was almost white, and piercing eyes. He stood at the door to Lady's stable, rubbing her nose. The usually ornery horse was calm, and Sylvia could spot his talent with horses miles away.
It was at the moment her horse decided it was afraid of a bird resting in the rafters. He neighed, stepped up on his hind legs and pulled at the crossties holding him in place. Sylvia herself was knocked to the floor, but the blond simply walked over, grabbed onto the halter and spoke softly to the horse.
"Hey, calm down, boy. It's just a bird. Man, you horses scare easily, don't ya?" He talked funny, like he was from one of those states up north or something.
When he managed to calm the horse, he let go of the halter and held out his hand to her. While she stared at the hand, she wondered if this was the boy who was going to pull her into a timeless romance.
"Are ya going to take my hand or what?"
Ignoring the somewhat rude question, Sylvia took his hand and entered a relationship that was similar to the first few moments she met Dallas Winston. Part sweet, part rash. But after a while, Sylvia came to realize that, even though Dallas Winston had his good moments, those good moments didn't always make up for all the times he got drunk, forgot about her or got his ass tossed in jail.
When Dallas was in jail, she stayed with Tim. It didn't really matter because Dallas always took her back. And that way, Sylvia was never by her lonesome.
But now, there would be no going to Tim. Because another boy is on her mind.
He stood up for her in front of his friends. He didn't take her offer of lunch as a means to have sex. And he could barely even keep eye contact during conversation.
He's going to be her knight in shining armor.
Kind of, anyway, well, not really. Sylvia isn't really in the position where she necessarily needs a knight in shining armor. And even if she did, she could take care of herself.
She leans over her bed and pulls a book from underneath her mattress. It's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Her mother used to read it to her when she was a little. She remembered going to the drive-in with her parents when she was five and watching the movie, remembering the handsome prince awakening Snow White with a kiss.
Sylvia was going to get that kiss – and her Prince Charming.
It's been a week since she last saw him. He's been avoiding her by staying away from his usual spots during the day, and sticking by his close friends after school. The few times she has caught his eyes he blushes and hurriedly looks away.
He's smitten with her. It's impossible to say anything else. But tonight there's a party, and Sylvia wants to go. With someone.
She dials Tim's number. Apparently Dallas got stuck with a heavier sentence than Tim. Probably because Dallas gets in fights every week, while Tim is mellower and doesn't care as much. She taps her fingers impatiently on the countertop, listening to the phone ring.
"Hello?"
"Tim! It's been a while."
"A while too long," Tim replies. She imagines his trademark smirk on his face. "Did you hear about the party tonight?"
"At Jimmy's, right? You want to come and pick me up?"
"Sure thing, baby. I'll be there in a little bit, okay?"
"I'll be ready."
The phone clicks and she hangs it back up, before heading to her room to pick out her outfit for the party. Not that she has to make much of a decision; she knows that she's going to wear the best-looking outfit possible.
Sylvia pulls out a periwinkle blue sleeveless turtleneck dress. It's short, but still modest enough to keep the boys guessing. With her blond curls and blue eyes, the dress works perfectly.
Just as she's applying the last bit of eye shadow, she hears the door open and someone come inside. Sylvia fluffs her hair one more time, smiles and heads to the living room where Tim is lounging on the couch.
"Hey, baby," he greets her. She leans over and gives him a kiss that he deepens. She starts to break away, but he places his hand in the small of her back and brings her closer to him. Going along with it, she wraps her arms around his neck and sighs happily.
After a few more seconds he lets her go and smiles. "Let's go to Jimmy's, huh?"
"Sure." Sylvia follows Tim to his car, excited about the party and the people. She completely ignores the fact that Tim doesn't bother to open her door for her. Sliding in, his arm already resting on the top of the seat, she scoots over and leans her head on his shoulder.
The street is lined with cars. The radio is turned up inside the house as Tim pulls into the driveway. He gives her another deep kiss before getting out of the car. To his credit, he opens her door, and puts his arm around her waist as they walk in.
They say hi to a couple people they know as they make their way to the kitchen. Jimmy, Tim's right-hand man Sam, and Curly are there, along with Two-Bit Mathews. Great, Sylvia thinks.
"Jimmy, two beers," Tim tells him as he turns to talk to Sam. Jimmy opens up the fridge that he's standing in front of and pulls out two Buds. He hands them both to Tim - who hands one to Sylvia – as Two-Bit speaks up.
"So, Sylvia. Where's Dally?"
Sylvia eyes Two-Bit coolly as Curly snickers. "He's in jail. For the thousandth time."
Two-Bit chuckles and turns to Curly. "Maybe she should give him a reason to stick around."
The two of them laugh while Sylvia scowls. But her scowl momentarily disappears when Johnny walks in.
"Hey Two-Bit. Kathy's looking for you." He looks around the room and blinks when he sees Sylvia. They lock eyes for a second, but are able to maintain their façades. The others in the room don't pick up the disturbance.
"Got it. Thanks, Johnnycakes," Two-Bit says as he leaves the room. Johnny follows after Two-Bit, obviously attempting to get away from Sylvia as fast as possible.
She's smart, so she waits a few minutes before she decides to seek him out. Giving Tim an excuse about going to the bathroom, she makes her way through the house, looking at every person to find him.
A lot of people are there. It's a simple, Saturday night party. Elvis is crooning on the radio and there is plenty of booze flowing. But it's not out of control, like Buck's, where fights breaking out every five minutes. She makes her way into the living room and …
There he is.
Sylvia watches as Johnny sneaks outside, a cigarette in hand. She turns to the first guy she sees – Roger of Brumly – and politely asks for a cigarette. He offers to light it for her, but she declines.
She already knows someone who can light her fire.
"Shit," he says, jumping back when she steps outside. It's just the two of them and she has him cornered against the house.
It's been a week since he last saw her. When he saw her inside next to Tim Shepard, he left as soon as possible, trying to avoid her in the house. He knows he should have stayed at the Curtis' tonight.
"Hey, Johnny. Long time no see." She walks up to him so that she's almost touching his jacket. She smells like a cheap perfume, but for some reason he doesn't mind. She holds up her cigarette. "Give a girl a light?"
He goes to pull out a match, but she stops him. She points at his smoke. "No need to waste a match on me." She winks.
Johnny gulps. This is the closest he's ever been to a girl. He wills his hand to steady, grabs his smoke with between his thumb and forefinger and holds it to her own. Her red lips are wrapped around the cigarette and Johnny thinks it's the hottest thing he's ever seen. After a few seconds, it takes light and Sylvia takes a few puffs. "Thanks," she says.
"No problem," Johnny replies before looking around. He avoids eye contact.
"I haven't seen you around this past week," Sylvia says coolly.
Johnny stays quiet. He's not really sure how to act in this type of situation. She turns and rests her arms on the back porch facing him. He quickly – very quickly – glances at her breasts.
"Why have you been avoiding me?"
He takes another drag and curses inwardly. The only way he can dodge this question is to literally get the hell out of dodge. He moves to leave even though he hasn't finished his smoke, but she grabs his arm and keeps him still.
"What are you afraid of? I can tell you're interested."
He turns towards her, maneuvering his hand so that now he's the one grabbing her wrist. "In case you've forgotten, you're dating Dallas," he says with a confidence he has never felt before.
She looks shocked. Johnny guesses she pegged him as a silent type.
"It would be better for you, for me, and for him if you stopped whatever you're doing and if we went back to barely knowing each other."
She shakes her head. "You don't understand."
"Damn right, I don't understand. How can you be with Dallas one day, and the second he gets locked up start going after me? And not even a week goes by and you show up to a party with Tim Shepard?" He really is confused with this whole thing. He knew even before this mess from the bull sessions that girls were confusing, but Jesus, Sylvia should come with a manual or something.
"No, you don't understand. You stood up for me. No one's ever done that before." She takes a step forward, and, as if they're doing the tango, he takes a step backward. "I've always wanted a boy who is nice and …" she drifts off.
"What about Tim Shepard?" he asks.
She looks up at him and stares into his eyes. "Don't you ever get lonely?"
Fuck. He's always lonely – at home, in the lot, during the day at the bowling alley. Even when he's sleeping on the Curtises' couch he can't help but feel like there isn't anyone else around. It's like if he disappeared no one would ever know.
There's a knot in his stomach. On the one hand, it's Sylvia; she's town gossip, she's Dallas' girlfriend… damn, for all he knows, she could be playing him right now. But he looks into her eyes and all he sees is a girl who wants to be treated like she's the most important thing in the world.
Ignoring the fact that Tim Shepard brought her to the party, ignoring the fact that Two-Bit, Soda and Steve are just inside, and ignoring the fact that there are so many things wrong with this situation, he kisses her.
It's hesitant at first. He gives her a small peck on the lips, pauses, and then kisses her again. She's a year older than him, but still two inches shorter, so she stands on her tiptoes to deepen the kiss.
He's innocent, inexperienced, and shocked. She takes his hands and guides them to her waist. She threads her fingers through his greasy, black hair, and sighs happily. Just as he starts to become comfortable the door opens the two quickly separate.
Sylvia leans against the railing and Johnny overlooks the porch, digging out another cigarette. His hands are shaking and he can't find the ability to light a simple cigarette. After lighting his smoke on the third try, he turns around. Shit. It's Steve.
"Hey, Johnny. Sylvia ain't botherin' ya, is she?" he asks, pulling out his own cigarette and lighting it with ease.
"No. Just smokin'," Johnny replies, turning around but not looking at Sylvia.
Steve is smart. He may be a greaser, but he knows math, science, and cars. Johnny's hands twitches oh so slightly, and he can bet Steve knows something's up. The older greaser's eyes divert to the good-looking blond standing next to him. He looks at Sylvia lounging on the porch. "Where's your cigarette, Sylvia?"
She smirks. She dropped her own cigarette when Johnny kissed her. "Just getting some fresh air," she answers.
"Well, this is the smoking area, and I don't want Johnny's smoke getting all in your fresh air. So why don't you go find Tim and leave Johnny here alone. Savvy?"
Sylvia eyes Steve Randle coolly before heading inside. She looks back just in time to catch eyes with Johnny. His eyes meet hers before he looks down again.
Once she is inside Steve turns to Johnny. "What the hell are you thinking? You better tell me that she was just out here smoking. Not only would Dallas kill ya, but you don't want to get involved with those types of girls, especially Sylvia."
"Nah, man. We weren't doing nothing. I was having a cigarette and she just asked for a light." Steve may only be a year older than him, but he feels like a kid who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
Steve curses and takes a drag on his smoke. "I swear Johnny, if I find out that you and Sylvia are doing something … so help me, kid."
Johnny gulps and looks at his shoes. He hates being reprimanded. He's used to it happening at home, but when his friends do it, he just feels like a bother. "It ain't nothin'," he says again, before dropping the half-smoked cigarette onto the floor and putting it out with his shoe. "This party is getting a little wild. I think I'm going to head back."
"Hey, look, Johnny," Steve says, holding out his hand. "I ain't being mean, kid. It's just – I know what it's like to come from a shitty home and all. But you gotta be smart about these girls. Sometimes they can mess you up worse than your old man."
Johnny knows that Steve isn't talking about Evie. He's talking about Linda, his first girlfriend. Things got serious and then everything went sour real quick when Steve found out that Linda was with some other guy behind Steve's back for a good two months. It took Steve a long time before he was able to trust Evie like he did Linda.
Johnny shows his gratitude – Steve isn't always open with people. "Thanks, Steve." He starts walking to the door. "You're working at the DX tomorrow, right?"
"Yup, see you tomorrow, kid."
Johnny walks inside and squeezes his way through the people talking, drinking and dancing. He sees Sylvia – he swears he wasn't looking – watching him as he heads to the door. Her arm is around Tim Shepard, but it's robotic. Her eyes are watching him, following him as he moves across the room.
Johnny holds her gaze for a few moments before opening the door and heading out into the cool air.
The Curtis house is almost empty. School ended a little while ago, so Ponyboy is home, but both Darry and Soda are still at work. Johnny lets the door slam behind him as he walks into the house.
"Johnny?"
It's amazing how he knows that it's him just from the sound of the door. "Yeah, it's me," Johnny answers. He enters the room and sees Ponyboy sitting on the couch with a textbook open in front of him. "Whatcha doin'?"
"A history project for school. It's due tomorrow, but don't tell Darry. He'll be pissed to know that I left it for the last minute," Ponyboy looks up from his paper. "What are you doin', Johnny?"
"Nothing. Just walkin' around." He sits on the couch and leans his head back, closing his eyes.
The room is silent for a few minutes, as Ponyboy goes back to his project and Johnny catches up on a little sleep. Sleep has been awkward the last few nights, with Sylvia on his mind, her eyes staring at him, her clothes …
"You okay, Johnny?"
Johnny opens his eyes and sees Ponyboy looking at him curiously. "Yeah, I'm fine, why?"
He shrugs. "You just look more tired than usual. Is …," Ponyboy pauses. "Is it your old man?"
"No." Johnny puts that to rest right away.
There's an uneasy silence for a few seconds before Ponyboy goes back to his paper. Johnny tries to watch the television, but the only thing that's on is Walter Cronkite and the evening news and he can't help but let his mind wander to Sylvia again.
He bites his lip. He feels the skin between his teeth and for a second – only a second – he remembers kissing Sylvia on the back deck at the party.
Okay. Maybe more than a second.
God, he wants to kiss her again. He shouldn't want to. For all the things that Sylvia represents, the numerous warnings that his friends give him and the fact that Dallas Winston would kick his ass – even if he suspects Dallas is more lenient with him than the other guys.
Johnny would be technically – although it sounds crazy to even think about it – stealing Dallas' girl. And friend or not, that's disrespect, and Johnny would have to take his punches.
Of course … if he never found out …
Johnny rolls his eyes. He steals a quick glance at Ponyboy and is relieved to see that he's focusing 110% on his paper.
Anyway, if Dallas never found out, technically Johnny would be in the clear.
Sort of, anyway. There's still the fact that Sylvia is one of the gossip queens of their little neighborhood in Tulsa. Everyone talks about her and she talks about everyone. Nah. His chances of keeping something like a relationship with Sylvia would be impossible to keep under cover.
Johnny huffs and shakes his head. Ponyboy looks over.
"Everything okay, Johnny?"
"Yeah, crazy news, man," Johnny responds. The cover story is about a new department store opening up downtown. Ponyboy gives Johnny a look.
"Didn't know you were a big shopper, Johnnycakes. Thinkin' about buying some swanky pants or somethin'?"
Johnny cracks a smile. He doesn't have a real good comeback, so instead he just settles with a "Nah."
Things are quiet for a few moments again before Ponyboy puts down his pencil and shifts to sit on the couch facing Johnny. "What's up?"
Johnny gives Ponyboy a questionable look. "Nothin', I swear."
"No one would say 'I swear' if they didn't actually have someone on their mind."
Johnny stares at the TV again, wondering if Ponyboy is the right kid to ask about this stuff. Pony's still 13 and avoids girls like the plague. Soda, Steve or even Two-Bit would probably be better for this job.
But at the same time, it's Ponyboy. And Johnny trusts him more than anyone else.
Johnny shifts and sits straight up. "There's this girl, man."
He can see the grin growing on Pony's face. "Really? What's her name?"
Johnny trusts Ponyboy, but he ain't willing to go that far. Instead he shakes his head.
"Don't know or won't tell?"
"It's weird, y'know?" Johnny avoids the question by firing another one back. "Girls. They're so …"
"Confusing?"
"Yeah."
Silence hangs for a minute. Walter Cronkite talks on the news while Johnny tries to think of what to say next. The minute is agonizingly long, and for half of it, Johnny thinks about what Ponyboy is thinking to say.
"Do you like her?"
It's a simple question. Real simple.
"Yeah."
"Why?"
Johnny thinks back to his talk with her on the back porch. The look in her eyes had said it all.
"I guess I know how she feels."
"What's holding you back?"
"Her boyfriend."
"Her boyfriend? Johnny Cade, are you plotting to steal another man's woman?"
"Shut up, I ain't plottin' nothin'."
"So is she more into you than she is into him?"
For the first time since the conversation started, Johnny looks over at Ponyboy. "What?"
"Is she more into you than she is into him?"
Johnny racks his brain for memories of Dally and Sylvia. Did she look genuinely happy, or was it the fake cover that he saw while she stood with her hand on Tim Shepard's arm? Does she actually like him or is he just a toy to play with before Dallas comes back?
"I think so."
"Think? Or are you just being modest?"
Johnny smirks, but he doesn't reply.
"Go after her."
Johnny rolls his eyes. "And what am I supposed to do if her boyfriend comes after me?"
Ponyboy shrugs. "Love hurts."
She ditches school again. After their kiss on the back porch Saturday night she is certain that he is just as interested in her as she is interested in him.
She's wearing a cute skirt with a matching blouse. Her hair is curled, her nails are done, and her make-up is flawless. She walks into the bowling alley and quickly eyes the pinball machine.
Damn. He's not there.
She bites her lip. She's certain that he would be here. And she can't come back tomorrow because even though she doesn't really care, she really does need to go to school. Giving up – for now – she walks back outside.
There he is.
Thanking whoever is listening, she waits outside the door for him to walk up. He's alone, wearing that old, jean jacket of his, and hasn't noticed her yet.
"Long time no see," she greets. He looks up in shock. Sylvia has to admit, this probably seems really creepy, but this might be her chance with a genuine guy.
"Hey, Sylvia," Johnny responds, his hands in his pockets.
God, he looks amazing. Even with his ratty jacket, he looks like the definition of tuff with his jet-black hair greased back, his black shirt that isn't too loose or too tight, and his dark, smoldering eyes that seem to see right through her.
"Hey, Johnny." She smiles. "What are ya doing?"
He shrugs his shoulders and looks around like he's doing something that he shouldn't. When he looks back he smirks. "Nothin'."
"Me nei-" He interrupts her by grabbing her hand and pulling her around the building to a place that isn't visible from the parking lot. He stops, turns around, grabs her shoulders, and crushes his lips against hers.
It's so fucking romantic, Sylvia thinks she's in love.
She sighs as he runs his hands down her arms to her hips. His hands warm her up and suddenly it feels like it's the middle of July and she's standing in front of a fire. She whimpers when his lips leave her mouth and move to her neck, sucking at her pulse.
She moves her hands up his shirt, grinning when he flinches from her cold skin.
The sun is bright when she opens her eyes. Then he's there, standing with a smirk on his face. He holds both of her hands in his and looks deep into her eyes.
"Let's get outta here."
It may not have been the most romantic of proposals, but Sylvia had decided. Prince Charming didn't have nothing on Johnny Cade.
She's heard about his house, and how his parents are always fighting with each other. She knows that this might be a chance for him to get away from that, so she leads him to her house. It's not too far from the bowling alley and her parents aren't home. The warm feeling in her stomach hasn't left, and she clutches Johnny's hand tightly in hers.
She's pleasantly surprised that he's willing to follow her. She's also thankful that no one sees them walking together, hand in hand.
Not that she's bothered by it. She can tell, he's interested in her, and damn, does she think he's perfect. But others wouldn't agree. In particular, Randle and Mathews would flip if they knew she and Johnny were on their way to her house. If word got back to them, it would just make this whole thing a lot more complicated.
Just as she expected, the car isn't in the driveway, and the house is locked. Giving Johnny a quick grin, she unlocks the door and opens it up.
She leads the way into the house and turns around when she hears Johnny step completely inside.
She grabs the collar of his jean jacket and pulls him in for a fierce kiss as he uses one of his hands to close the door behind him. He cups her cheeks, feeling her smooth skin and kisses her back just as hard.
Her hands snake up underneath his t-shirt to feel the coarse muscles of his chest. His hands are staying where they are, so to assure him that it's okay, she takes one of his hands in her own and places it on her breast.
"It's okay," she says softly. She knows he's completely new to this no matter how much of a dangerous hood he looks like on the outside. He starts to take the initiative and fingers one of the buttons before maneuvering it open. When he undoes the third button, he lets his hand fall to the small of her back and pulls her close to him. He kisses her throat, grinning when she reacts positively.
All thoughts of Dallas Winston disappear completely from their heads.
Sylvia's an amazing cook. The only person who Johnny would consider a better cook would have been Mrs. Curtis. But ever since the Curtises died in a car crash, Johnny had been barely scraping by with whatever was in the cupboard at his own house. Sometimes he would be lucky and Darry would invite him to eat dinner with them, but most of the time Johnny fended for himself. But cheeseburgers at the diner, popcorn at the drive-in and whatever Buck had that wasn't spoiled sure got old quick.
So when Sylvia gives him a plate with grilled cheese and a bowl of tomato soup, Johnny can't help but be entirely grateful. As she moves to take a seat next to him, he grabbes her wrist, pulls her over and gives her a quick peck on the lips.
It was amazing how he can do that now. He had noticed it before with Steve and Evie, Soda and Sandy, Two-Bit and his many blondes – just a grab of the wrist, a small pull and a peck on the lips would leave the girl grinning just like Sylvia's doing now.
Johnny takes a bite of his sandwich when Sylvia speaks.
"I knew there was going to be a next time," she says. Johnny pauses, unclear about what she's insinuating.
"What?"
Sylvia grins. "Remember when I talked to you at the bowling alley? I invited you to lunch and you said, 'maybe next time'."
Johnny puts down his sandwich and reaches across the table and grabs Sylvia's hand. "I had to sort out some stuff first."
"Like what?"
Johnny shrugs. "I needed to figure out if it was all worth it. In case you haven't noticed, once Dallas gets out we're going to have to do something about our … relationship."
Sylvia leans over the table so that Johnny can have a small view down her blouse. "I ain't goin' back to him."
"Still, shit's gonna fly."
Sylvia lets go of his hand and walks around the table. She pushes his plate out of the way and sits on his lap. His hands automatically find her waist while hers wrap around the back of his neck. "Trust me," she says breathlessly into his neck. "It'll be worth it."
For the first time in what feels like forever, Sylvia brings her history textbook home. She pulls it out of her bag and places it on the table. For the past week Johnny has come to her house for a late lunch after school. He asks her about her day and what she learned. They eat whatever Sylvia has made by the time Johnny arrives. They kiss and enjoy each other's presence.
She puts a pot of water on the stove and waits for it to boil as she goes to the pantry to pull out some spaghetti.
She hears the door open and the footsteps that make their way into the house. The footsteps stop behind her and she giggles when she feels his lips on her neck.
"I've missed you."
He sighs in agreement and hugs her, letting his chin rest on her shoulder. They stand there, content, for a few moments until Sylvia turns her head and kisses him.
Johnny wraps his arms around her and she sinks into him. Time stands still.
It isn't until Sylvia hears the sound of boiling water bubbling over the sides of the pot and turning into steam that she realizes she forgot about lunch.
"Shit." She hurries over and turns the heat down before turning around to grab the spaghetti. But Johnny's already standing there, with the box in his hand and a grin on his face.
"Need this?"
Grinning back, she swipes the box and puts enough spaghetti for two in the pot and lets it sit. When a wooden spoon appears out of nowhere and starts stirring, she looks up and sees Johnny.
She furrows her eyebrows. How can it be that he's so damn perfect? Whenever she made lunch for Dallas – which, unlike Johnny, didn't happen often – he just sat on the couch and watched TV. He would never voluntarily help in the kitchen.
And shit, it's not even Dallas. Most guys would just wait for their girls, wives, or daughters to cook them food. Males and the kitchen? Please.
And he hasn't pushed her for anything more than what she has given him. When the water was boiling over, Johnny didn't hold her back and say, "forget it". He didn't complain.
"Something wrong?"
Sylvia raises her eyebrows. He's standing there with a look of concern and it … it fucking pisses her off.
"Why are you so perfect?"
The question catches him off guard. He shrugs and turns back to the food cooking on the stove. "I dunno what you're talking about, Syl. I ain't perfect."
"Yes you are. You're helping me fix lunch, and you didn't get pissed when I stopped kissing you so that I could get to the stove and you ask me about my damn day!" she says as she points to the book on top of the table.
She's conflicted with so many emotions; she knows that she should be happy, but she can't help but be suspicious at the perfection of it. No guy is one hundred percent chivalrous. No guy willingly helps out in the kitchen. No guy asks about her day like he's really interested.
Johnny puts down the spoon and turns the heat down on the stove. He rubs his hands on his jeans and walks towards her. "What do you want me to say, Sylvia? Do you want me to be more like Dallas? Because I thought that was why you didn't want to be with him in the first place."
He's so fucking confused. He knew coming into this relationship that girls in general are confusing but at this moment he really fucking can't figure out what Sylvia wants.
"You're not like any other guy! You're too … perfect! Half the time I even wonder if you really mean it!" She's frustrated and she doesn't know why she's creating a scene.
"Don't call me a fake because you only picked bad boyfriends before." He's angry that she's calling him a fake after all the trouble that he's gone through. Even without looking – as he's straining the spaghetti from the pot – he can tell that she has a hurt look on her face. He only feels a little guilty. He's putting a lot on the line
The air is tense. Their lunch is ready, but neither of them move. Johnny sneaks a glance at Sylvia. Her eyes are clenched real tight and she's taking heavy breaths. His guilt growing by the second, he steps towards her and grabs her hands.
"Syl. Don't be mad."
"I'm sorry." Her voice is close to tears.
"Don't be. I shouldn't've said that." She still doesn't look up so Johnny nudges her nose with his. "Hey. Look at me."
Her eyes open, and there are light smudges of mascara under her sparkling blue eyes. He takes a strand of her hair and moves it behind her ear.
"I just expect so little from guys. I shouldn't've turned this into an argument. It was stupid."
"Look, I've seen my dad treat my ma, and I hear them fight all the time. I don't want that. But you gotta trust me, Syl."
"I do." She wraps her arms around his middle and rests her head in the crook of his neck. "I do."
He runs his fingers through her hair and kisses her lightly on her forehead.
"It's okay, baby." He holds her face in his hands and looks deep into her eyes. "It's gonna be okay."
"So, this guy got shot, and the whole continent went to war?"
"Pretty much. Crazy, huh?"
It's only been a few days since their first fight but Johnny couldn't feel better. Sylvia's lying next to him on the couch with her history textbook propped up by her legs. He absentmindedly twirls a strand of her blond hair around his finger as he points to a picture of the Archduke of Austria.
"He was that important?"
"Guess so. I think it was just a turning point, though. Everyone was already pissed, but it was like the last straw type of thing."
Johnny brings in that piece of information. He always liked history in school – the people were really interesting. But he would rather focus on a little bit of history than run through an entire century in a week, and the teachers weren't really happy with that. They called him slow but really Johnny just wanted to spend more time on what he was learning.
"Don't you turn sixteen next week?" Sylvia asks, turning around to look at him.
Her lips are so close and tantalizing that Johnny has to refocus. "Yeah – next week."
Unable to help himself, he leans in for a kiss. She kisses him back and her textbook falls on the floor. She shifts so that she's straddling him and he lets his hands wander.
The sound of the front door opening delivers a shock and they look in the direction of the door.
"Sylvia?"
"Shit," Sylvia whispers, climbing off of Johnny and pulling him to her bedroom. "That's my mom; she was supposed to work the late shift tonight." Johnny takes the hint and opens the window while Sylvia calls out. "One second, mom!"
He's halfway out of the window when he looks back. Sylvia makes going motions with her hands.
"What are you waiting for?"
"Come here."
With a quick look at the door, she hurries over just as her mom calls out her name again. Sylvia looks at Johnny. "What?"
He cups his hand around the back of her neck and draws her in, giving her a quick kiss. "I'll come back tonight, okay?"
Sylvia looks worried. "I don't know. My dad's gonna be here and that might not be a good idea."
"C'mon, Syl," Johnny pushes. His dark eyes staring up at her force her to relent.
"All right. But be careful. You don't want to mess with my daddy. He'll kick your ass," she threatens as Johnny finally climbs all the way out of the window.
She watches him disappear down the street towards his own house. She's still staring out the window when her door bangs open and her mother stands with her hands on her hips.
"Sylvia Taylor, I called for you three times!"
"I know, mom."
"What were you doing?" She comes up – a spitting image of her daughter – and looks out the window. "What were you looking at?"
Sylvia struggles to come up with a plausible excuse. "Nothing – just bird watching."
It's a lame excuse and she knows it. Shirley Taylor looks at her daughter with a curious eye; she knows that something's up.
"It's not another one of your boyfriends, is it?" she asks.
Sylvia smiles. "No, mom."
And it's true. Johnny isn't like any of her other boyfriends.
She lies in her bed, alternating from staring at the ceiling to the clock. It's past ten o'clock and her hopes are starting to dwindle. She's been waiting for him for the past two hours ever since dinner ended.
She hears her mother cleaning the dishes while her father laughs loudly at the football game on the television. Her father calls for another beer and Sylvia relaxes; it's her father's fourth beer and he should be down for the night. Unlike most parents in the neighborhood, her father isn't abusive when he's drunk.
He simply doesn't care.
There's a slight knock on her window and she climbs out of bed, unable to keep the smile off of her face. She unlatches the lock and opens the window. Johnny climbs right in with ease and turns around to close it.
"Get the door," he whispers. Sylvia nods and locks the door.
When she turns around she's caught in a deep kiss and she's almost swept off of her feet.
His lips leave hers and find her throat. She tilts her head toward the ceiling to give him better access.
"What took you so long?"
His fingers fiddle with the bottom of her shirt and tantalize her soft skin.
"I was at the Curtises. Watched a movie with Pony."
She backs up slowly and he follows. She sits down on the bed and he leans over her.
The next few months are glorious.
Sylvia has never felt so accepted for who she is – flaws and all. But most importantly, she feels wanted.
The way his lips kiss her throat. The way her nails grab onto his firm hips. The way she feels oh-so-right when he moves with her.
It's the wonderland she has always dreamed of.
No one knows about them. And it's been hard for her. When they're at parties, and she glances at him, and he glances at her. There's a want there, but no need to make it public. It's what makes her think, 'he's the one'.
"Alone again, Sylvia?" Buck asks when she wanders up to the bar.
"A beer is fine," she replies, not answering his question. Buck pours her beer into a glass – how all of the girls take their alcohol – and she takes a few sips. The atmosphere is calm, but rowdy at the same time. Greg is dancing with his girl, not caring who sees him, Tim is sitting in the corner, giving her a look, like he always does when he wants something, Johnny talks with his friends in the booth, laughing, but not drinking, just like he always does.
She just wants to walk over, and kiss him. Because she knows he wants to, too.
A holler erupts, and disturbs the bar – Dallas Winston walks in, free from jail.
Dallas walks up to her, all savvy. "Hey, baby. Sorry I've been gone for so long," he says, but the grin on his face tells her that he doesn't give a shit. "Miss me?"
She gives him a cool long stare, not daring to look at Johnny, knowing that him – and every other hood at Buck's place is watching – and instead gives him a smirk.
"Not really, considering that you've been gone so long. Maybe you should pay more attention to your lady than your criminal record." She's confident, knowing that her and Dallas is over. He's never going to be the Prince Charming she wants. Dallas is a hood, and she's ashamed that it took her this long to realize that she was holding onto a fantasy.
His grin turns into a glare.
"What, you've been fucking other guys this whole time?"
The roadhouse is silent, except for Hank Williams on the jukebox, and the few Shepard Gang boys playing pools in the room next door.
"You ain't been around." She feels so confident, knowing that she and Johnny will be the perfect couple. Boy, what Dally will feel when he realizes that she is dating a boy from his group of friends; they aren't a gang whatsoever.
"So?"
"So, I think we're done, Dally. If you're looking for a fuck, why don't you go dance with one of those other girls you've always been flirting with?"
Her swear hits a soft spot, and he grabs her wrist.
"Don't think I won't hit you just because you're a girl," he threatens.
Sylvia smirks, again. "Do you want this back?" she asks, handing him the Christopher ring he rolled a drunk to get. "Because I don't want it."
The force hits Sylvia like a sledgehammer. The next thing she knows, she's on her bottom, on the dirty, wooden floor of Buck's roadhouse. His fist comes up, and –
"Leave her alone, Dal."
Johnny appears, looking as mighty as ever.
Dallas looks at Johnny, while she thinks, 'This is it. This is when we become the perfect couple of Tulsa."
"C'mon, Dal. Let's get a smoke outside."
She's still on her bottom, on the dirty, wooden floor of Buck's roadhouse, and her Prince Charming and Dallas walk outside for a smoke. The music keeps playing, and eventually, everyone forgets what happened.
She's not sure whether to laugh, cry, or hide herself in a corner. Instead of coming to her rescue, and carrying her in his arms, he walks outside with her ex-boyfriend.
She loves him, but she wonders if that is enough.
She catches him in the arcade, like the first time she enticed him one-on-one. He's playing pinball, and she walks up, puts her hands on the glass and looks at him.
"Hey, Johnny."
He doesn't look at her.
"Hey."
He doesn't call her Syl, or even mentions her name.
"Are you free this weekend?"
"I don't know why you would be asking me that. I'm hanging out with Ponyboy and Dallas tomorrow – catching a movie at the drive-in."
"Maybe I could come along?"
He leaves, letting the pinball drop to the bottom of the machine and walks out the door.
She follows him.
"Johnny?"
He turns around.
"Look, Syl," he says, and the way he shortens her name makes her feel oh-so-comfortable. "Dal's out, and I don't want to mess things up. He's cool, you know?"
"But you said that if Dallas got out, no matter what, we would be together!"
"I said nothing of the sort, Syl. What it is, it is. I like you, but I, I gotta be loyal to Dallas. He's my buddy, you know? Us dating, it would mess everything up."
"But …"
"I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't."
He walks away, kicking at a piece of lone wood on the sidewalk.
While she mopes in her room while listening to her father laugh at the TV and her mother bustling in the kitchen while drinking a bottle of wine. She feels like she's never going to meet a man worth her time – someone who is willing to listen and take care of her like she is something worth caring about.
"Sylvia?" Her mother knocks on the door.
"Yeah?" she calls, vaguely recognizing the sound of her voice after a week of brooding.
"Evie is here."
"Fine."
Evie walks in, her hair haphazardly placed into a ponytail, tied by a ribbon. "I haven't seen you for a week. How are you doing?"
"I feel awful," Sylvia replies, thinking how she wish she could just never fall in love ever again.
"I know. I'm here for you. It's awful what happened to Dally. The damn fuzz. Everyone knew they were out for him from the beginning."
She sits up in bed at the mention of the cops.
"What?"
Evie looks at her with a confused look. "Didn't you hear? Dally was shot by the cops this weekend." She looks to the side, unable to meet her gaze. "He's dead."
There's a minute of silence during which Sylvia takes it in. Dallas is dead. He was never perfect, but she'll never forget the first meeting when he grabbed her hand and helped her up in the stables.
"What, what happened?" she finally staggers out.
Evie looks at her with a look, like a mother who is about to relinquish sad news upon a small child. "Well, that quiet boy, Johnny, and the youngest Curtis boy, they ran away after some Soc got stabbed in the park." She shrugs. "I don't know what happened, but there was a fire, and Johnny was burned –"
Sylvia's veins run cold.
"He was in the hospital overnight, but he died the night of the rumble. Then Dallas held up a store, and the cops got him." She shakes her head. "I've never seen Steve so upset."
Sylvia doesn't acknowledge anything. After a while, Evie gives up and leaves her friend in peace, thinking that she is mourning her boyfriend, Dallas, when in reality, she is mourning her love, Johnny.
The way he talked her.
The way he touched to her.
The way he treated her like she was something worth living for.
She's never going to see him again.
Maybe life isn't a fairytale after all.