Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton, or "Sometime Around Midnight" by The Airborne Toxic Event.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
March 1968
You haven't seen her for a while
Slowly counting the seconds that tick by, you watch Danny. He's pissed off. You can tell by the dangerous glint in his eyes. If he was frustrated, he would rub one knuckle over his forehead; if he was worried, he would tap his thumb on the table you're both sitting at; and if he was upset about something, his eyebrows would be drawn into this tiny little frown that no one would notice if they hadn't been his best friend for fourteen years.
He isn't frustrated, worried, or upset; he's pissed off. At you. Frowning slightly, you fight the urge to bring it up - partly because your best friend is one guy you don't want to fight, and partly because you're still trying to figure out exactly what it is that has him so pissed off with you. Girls or gangs - it has to be one or the other.
And then you realise, and though it makes no fucking sense, it makes perfect sense.
xxxxx
Danny's in love with Sylvia. Sylvia. You know it, and you think Anna might know it, but Sylvia has no fucking clue, and you're not even sure Danny realises it yet.
But the way he looks at you sometimes, with nothing but hate in his eyes, that's how you know. He's never been a jealous guy, never cared when you were desperate enough to take Ruth home, and has only ever called Hands Off on one broad. And, because he's an idiot, that broad isn't Sylvia.
Maybe that's why you continue to flirt with her. Maybe that's why you up the flirting whenever Danny's around. Maybe that's why you just flirt and smirk and flirt some more when he begins to get all sulky and pissed off. He's jealous - jealous that you flirt with her, jealous that she flirts back, and, most of all, jealous that you've fucked her.
He's a smart guy - smarter than yourself, sometimes - but he's got to realise. Sylvia might be a real bitch sometimes, but she sure is a looker. Blonde, curvy … not all that sweet so not quite Danny's type, but that hasn't stopped him from falling and falling hard. You know the look he gets in his eyes when he really likes a chick, and that look has never been brighter than when Sylvia pisses him off.
You haven't told Danny yet, but you think half the reason Sylvia pisses him off is because she wants him. You've known the broad for years - taken her out, slept with her, consoled her after Dally died - and you know her better than you know most girls. She doesn't get that riled up about a guy if he doesn't mean something to her. Looking at that little frown on her forehead, though, you're not sure she realises just what Danny means to her.
Counting the long seconds of their silent post-argument stand-off, you smirk. You get to forty-seven before you stand, and it's another eleven seconds before Danny drags his gaze away from Sylvia and looks at you.
"You want another drink?" he asks.
"Nah. I was thinkin', Syl, how about I take you out tonight?"
She looks at you in surprise, and out of the corner of your eye, Danny's whole body tenses.
"Why?" she asks.
"Why not? Get ya outta the house for a while, outta Danny's hair." You pause to walk around the table and stand close to her. "Plus, you know, it's been a while."
She frowns at you, looks at Danny for a long moment - almost as though waiting for him to put a stop to this - and finally nods. "Okay."
"Great." You slide an arm around her shoulders, and lead her out of the kitchen. "See ya, man."
Danny says nothing as you leave. You feel a little bad, but it's for his own good.
xxxxx
Two-Bit Mathews is really beginning to piss you off. Scowling at the ruckus he's causing on the other side of the roadhouse, you stare at the table and count. Seven deep scratches just in the space between your arms; fifteen cigarette butts in the ashtray next to your hands; four empty beer bottles and two full ones; and forty-eight sighs from the girl next to you.
You look at her, wondering why you're doing this again. "Would you relax?"
Sylvia glares at you. "I haven't been here in a long time, you know."
"So?"
"So I don't want to be, either! I don't even know why I agreed to come out with you. You obviously don't want me here, and I'd much rather be home with -" She cuts off abruptly, a light blush making its way up her neck.
You raise an eyebrow. "With?"
"Anna."
"Of course."
Her knee bounces one hundred and six times before she says anything else. "Is that why you asked me out? Is this some kind of who-can-screw-her-first game?"
"No," you say, very carefully. You wonder just how messed up her relationship with Dally was for her to think that.
"Then what is it?"
You ignore that. "Is that really how little you think of Danny?"
"I never said that."
"You implied it. You think he's the kinda guy who'd play a game like that?"
In actual fact, the two of you had played a game like that in high school, but you don't tell her that. You especially don't tell her that Danny won.
But that was high school, and you're both twenty now, and this is different. For Danny, Sylvia is different, and for a moment, you wonder when you became so good at sorting out his love life and not your own.
"No," Sylvia says. "Of course I don't think he would."
You lean close to her, but don't touch. "Can I ask you somethin'?"
"Shoot."
"Why'd you agree to come out with me tonight?"
"I dunno. I guess I thought it'd be fun. I ain't been on a proper date since Dal …" She trails off and scowls at you. "Not that I'd call this a date."
You chuckle. "C'mon, Syl, you and I both know you never would've gotten more than this from me. What's the real reason?"
She shrugs, stubbornly looking away. That's okay, though, you've got the conversation where you want it.
"I think you wanted to make him jealous."
She scoffs and rolls her eyes. "Why would I want to make him jealous? I'm pretty sure he hates me, ya know? Can't think why he's still lettin' me crash at his place when all he does is get frustrated with me. Maybe I should just move out, get a place of my own. At least that way Danny fucking Harris won't be around every corner I look. And, you know, it's not as if I even need his help anymore. I have a job. I should just move out. Don't know why I haven't already …"
"Glory be, Sylvia. I ain't ever known you to ramble like that before."
She blushes, and presses her hands to her cheeks, as though realising this is something else you've never known her to do. You lean back again, and grip your beer in one hand.
"For what it's worth," you say, "I think it worked."
"What worked?"
"Makin' him jealous."
xxxxx
You wonder why it has to be the night you're out with Sylvia that you see Shelley again. Bad fucking karma that is.
You haven't seen her in forever - almost a year - but she looks so good it makes your chest hurt and your mouth water - in that order - and you wonder what that's supposed to mean. You're not used to this. You're not used to girls making a lasting impressions, especially when you've already slept with them. And you slept with Shelley - finally, after wanting to fuck her since that night she told you she liked your scar, you slept with her - but you still can't stop thinking about her.
Every fucking day.
She made an impression the first night you met her, and every time after that. She's always been stuck in your mind, that one girl who you genuinely like, but this is just crazy. It's been a year, you haven't been able to stop thinking about her, and now that you finally see her, you're out with another girl.
You watch her walk in to Buck's, alone but confident. She doesn't even look at you, but Sylvia catches you staring.
"So, that's her, huh?"
"Who's who?"
She smirks. "The one."
"The one? What the fuck are you talkin' about?"
"You know - the one. The one you're always thinkin' about, can never forget about, will always want … and all because you're meant to be with her."
You shake your head, amused. "You're so full of shit. Where do you get this crap?"
"C'mon, Tim, you haven't taken your eyes off her since she walked in. And I know it ain't 'cause you wanna get her into bed."
"You do, huh?"
"Yeah."
"And how do you know that?"
She smirks. "Because I know you've already screwed her."
"She told you?" You can't help it; the words come out without any thought, and you want to kick yourself.
Sylvia just shrugs coyly. You decide to turn the conversation around.
"Is that how you know Danny's the one?
"I don't know what you're talkin' about."
"Bullshit." You stand up. "You ever think that the sooner you and Danny stop pissing around, the sooner you can just be with each other?"
She looks at you with those wide eyes of hers. "You ever think about takin' your own advice, and actually lettin' someone into that cold heart of yours?"
You storm off without another word. Twenty minutes later, Danny's car pulls up and Sylvia dives inside before he can get out. You're left alone, with only one person at Buck's that you even want to look at, let alone talk to.
xxxxx
She's standing in front of the bar, her back to you, and you want to kick yourself for being such a pussy. It's just a girl, just some broad, just Shelley. You fight a scowl and make your way up to her, wondering when you became so fucking stupid over a chick.
"Hey."
Her whole body tenses at your voice, and you know this won't be a conversation you'll enjoy. Nor will it last very long.
She glances at you, but does nothing else to acknowledge that you're speaking to her. And, because of that, you figure you might as well get it over and done with.
"Been a while, huh?"
This time she at least scoffs to let you know she can hear you. It's better than nothing - hell, it's better than a glance in your direction - and you wonder what you'll have to say to get her to actually speak to you.
"I heard about you and Robbie."
Nothing. No glance, no scoff, nothing. Well, shit. You probably knew that bringing up Robbie wasn't the best way to go about things, but you couldn't help it. You want her to tell you the few weeks she spent with him meant nothing. You want her to tell you she only did it because you never called. You want her to tell you she can't stop thinking about you.
But you get nothing.
"You can't ignore me forever, you know?"
"I'm sure I could." She's angry and hateful, and you're pathetic and insane. Just her voice sends some kind of warmth through you.
"Well you've just screwed that idea up." You give her an easy grin. "Ignoring me requires you to not speak to me."
She picks up her drink and turns to leave. "If that's what you'd prefer."
"Wait."
She waits, and you reach out a hand to press the backs of your fingers against her lower back. She sighs and seems to melt at your touch, but just for a moment. Just until you speak again.
"Don't be mad," you say, so softly that you have to lean in close.
She turns to face you and shakes her head. "You really have no idea, do you?" She stares, waiting, and you have no idea what to say, because she's right, you really do have no idea.
She leaves, and you miss her immediately.
A/N: Reviews are very much appreciated. If your confused about how Sylvia ended up at Danny's, I'd suggest reading my fic "Frayed". It's in my profile:)
