Thanks to all that reviewed on the first chapter! Please, read and review on the second! Sorry for the long awaited update, but I will try to keep them more frequent from now on.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Outsiders.

Warnings: language


"Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, who is the stupidest of them all?!" I snapped, glaring at my reflection. What the hell had I gotten myself into?

*Flashback*

I'd gone to the DX for the third time that week if only to see Sodapop, although I would never admit that. As he was ringing up my Coke, I examined him and had to fight down a blush and try in vain to control the butterflies in my stomach. Let's just say it didn't work.

Soda was more than handsome; if I didn't know better, I'd say he was beautiful. His hair was down today, brushing his shoulders, and for some reason, he'd chosen not to wear hair grease. That struck me as weird and I could tell that the guy in the back, Steve Randall, thought so too. Occasionally, he'd ask him why he wasn't wearing hair grease and Soda would reply that it was a special occasion. Today, he wore a gray T-shirt without stains (most of his shirts had oil or grease on them) and a pair of jeans that weren't ripped or torn. Even his tennis shoes were less dirty and dusty than normal.

When I walked in, Soda immediately straightened and stared at me as I got a Coke out of the fridge towards the back of the store and approached the counter.

"Um, hi, Tiffany," he stammered, ringing up my lone item without taking his eyes off of me. For a moment, we just stared at each other until he blurted out in a rush, "Will you go on a date with me?"

My brown eyes widened and I heard a crash, followed by Steve cursing up a storm in the back. I'm not sure if he was just clumsy or if Soda's question had shocked him, but I was guessing the latter.

"Sure," I said, smoothly, but to me, it sounded like I choked it out. Then, I stopped; why had I said that?! So what if he skipped the hair grease today or dressed semi-decent? He was still a Greaser!

Soda sighed in relief. "Are you available on Friday night at seven?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "Where do you want to go?"

"Well, there's a nice restaurant and it's right in between the East and West side, where the middle class live. Let's face it, we both know if we eat on either side of Tulsa, something bad'll happen, due to the rivalry. It's called Herman and Sherman, so all I need is your address and I'll pick you up at seven."

I quickly scrawled it down on the back of my receipt and slid it across the corner before leaving with one last smile in the blonde's direction.

*Flashback ended*

It was Friday, six-thirty, and I was nervous. I wore a nice dress, nothing too fancy but not one of those 'I just rolled out of bed' outfits. It was blue with purple strings sown onto the bottom, the waistline, and the bottom of the short sleeves. I was wearing silver flats on my small feet and had tamed my unruly, brown curls into a decent look, pulled back with a blue headband. I wore no make up for the first time in a long time and I didn't know what possessed me to believe that I didn't need make up because let's face it, I'm no pageant Queen.

"What's the occasion?" A voice broke into my train of thought and I looked up in the mirror to see my older brother standing in the doorway. He still had that mass of dark brown curls on his head and those brown eyes that were a shade darker than mine. His sharp features were etched into his face like stone with him hardly ever showing emotions. Tonight, he'd changed into an old blue T-shirt and jeans and was drinking from a Fanta soda can (he, for some reason, prefers Fanta over Coke and Pepsi, which is what everyone else drinks).

"Hello, Randy," I laughed and he looked at me weirdly. Laughter is a rare occasion on my part. "For your information, I have a date tonight."

"Really, with who?" He asked, taking a sip from his soda can.

"Sodapop Curtis." And he promptly spit the orange liquid out of his mouth and I burst into hysterical laughter.

"You, the girl who hates Greasers more than she hates snakes, spiders, and Mom combined is going on a date with a Greaser? What kind of alternate universe have I stepped into?" He looked around as if expecting something to have changed or that a meteor would come hurtling toward our house in a matter of seconds.

I giggled. "Soda's actually a good guy, but he will be the only exception to the I Hate Greasers rule."

"You wouldn't be saying that if you met his brother, Ponyboy Curtis, like really got to know him. Seriously, Bob, my 'friends', and I nearly killed him and his friend and he forgave me! That kid's special and I'm glad that you're going out with his brother."

"Why?" I questioned.

"The worst thing I've heard about Soda is that he dropped out of school and even that, he got a job to help his brother pay the bills! I think he's a good guy, and I think that you'll both benefit from this relationship." With that very puzzling statement, Randy left the room and for a moment, I didn't move until I heard a knock on the door.

"I got it!" I yelled, nearly running over my dad in order to get to the door first. Opening it, I smiled and then, a tingling sensation began in my toes and a twisting, turning feeling swirled around in my stomach.

Soda looked wonderful. His blonde hair had been trimmed into an even line along his shoulders instead of having strands of hair all different lengths. He'd, once again, skipped the hair grease, but his hair still shined in the moonlight, contrasting with his pale skin. Lively and happy, his brown eyes glowed against a back drop of snow. He wore a nice blue shirt, tucked into a pair of nice jeans and he wore black and white tennis shoes. I know it sounds like he's under dressed, but by Greaser standards, he looks like a prince.

"Wow," he mumbled, "you look beautiful."


SODA'S POV

I combed my hair for what must have been the thirtieth time that night and continued to stare at myself in the mirror, searching for one flaw, one spot of dirt, one stain on my clothes.

"You know, if you keep combing your hair, it's all gonna fall out," a voice drawled from behind me. I glowered at him in the mirror.

"Shut up, Dally," I snapped, pulling a comb through my perfectly straight hair. He laughed and I glared at his reflection in the glass as he left the bathroom, probably to find Johnny (ever since the incident, Dally had stuck to Johnny like glue).

"So, Darry, how do I look?" I asked, stepping out of the bathroom and facing my older brother. He looked me over with widened eyes.

"Wow. Even when you were with Sandy, I never saw you dress this well," he chuckled, clapping me on the back. "Who are you going out with anyway?"

"She comes in the store all the time!" Steve input, shouting over the Micky Mouse theme song. "Two Bit, turn it down!"

"You can't kill Micky!"

"Seriously, I think I tore my ear drum!"

"Oh man, why couldn't it tear your tongue, so we wouldn't have to listen to you anymore!"

"I oughta-"

"Calm down, you two," Darry commanded, firmly. "Two Bit, turn down the TV or I'll take the remote and no more Micky."

The joker rushed to hit the volume button, "Sorry, Darry."

The elder turned back to me. "So what's her name?"

"Tiffany, Tiffany Quinn Adderson."

"Adderson?!" Ponyboy exclaimed from the couch, where he was sitting with Johnny and Dally. About that, before I can continue on, you should know that someone up above had been watching out for Johnny. He'd not only survived, but would have full use of his legs back in a couple of months!

"Yeah, Randy's her older brother."

"He never mentioned a sister," Pony realized.

"Well, in the beginning, Tiffany hated Greasers, but she did say yes to a date, so I think she's warming up to Greasers. Or at least me, and liking one is better than hating all Greasers, right?" I explained.

There were noises of agreement around the room.

"Look, Soda," Darry began, carefully. "I don't want to say this like I hate Socs because after everything that happened, I don't hate all Socs. But, just in case, if she says anything or does anything to you tonight, tell me and I'll put her in a hospital, girl or not."

"Thanks, Darry," I laughed, "but I don't think you'll need to."

With that, I hopped into Two Bit's car (I was borrowing it for the night) and sped towards Tiffany's house. When I arrived, I stared at the door for a good minute and a half before lightly rapping upon it.

Thank goodness, Tiffany answered the door; it would've been awkward talking to anyone else in her family, even Randy. My mouth dropped open and I could almost hear Sandy saying in my ear, 'close your mouth, Soda. You'll let the flies in!' That was her catchphrase.

Tiffany was dressed in a blue dress that reached her knees and purple stripes had been sown along the bottom, waistline, and at the bottom of the short sleeves. Her sliver flats seemed to sparkle in the porch light. Pulled back in a blue headband, her chestnut brown curls glowed and not one hair was out of place. She wore no make up and I personally thought she looked better without it. Without blush, I could see how well her brown hair contrasted with her pale skin and all of the tiny freckles speckled across her nose and cheekbones looked adorable on her. Without eye shadow and mascara, her chocolate brown eyes seemed to shine all the more and I could tell she was examining me. I prayed that that was a good thing.

"Wow," I gasped. "You look beautiful."

And I meant it.


One again, I am so sorry for the long awaited update. Real life can be a pain sometimes. Anyway, thank you for being patient and please, review! I'll be updating my stories, Bound to Get Burned and Accidental Switch next, so keep an eye out for those and feel free to give me suggestions on any of my stories.

-Myra109