Red's POV

I gathered all the stuff we needed, which was a lot. I was just going to play it safe and ride under the assumption that the entire gang would be eating the biggest meal of the year with us, and even with me pocketing some things instead of buying them, I lost about half of the money that I'd accumulated over the past few weeks—which I'll tell you, was a very sizable amount. The clerk seemed pretty suspicious to see a grease girl with a large wad of cash, but said nothing when I flashed him an innocent smile.

When I got out, I realized that I had not thought this out very well. I had about five very heavy paper bags to carry, and only two arms. Oops. After a while, I had designed a very precarious way of carrying all of them without killing myself, but I still weaved down the sidewalk like a drunk. And home was about half and hour away on foot. About five hundred feet from the store, I felt ready to give up and just ditch the foodstuffs somewhere, but then all five of the bags suddenly vanished from my arms.

Surprised and without the counterweight I had a second ago, I dropped forward, but a leg thrust out and caught me. Looking up, my eyes were greeted with a grinning Sodapop, who had to lean around all the bags to see me. "Hey, pretty lady."

"I don't need help," I said shortly, straightening and snatching the heavy bags back from him.

Soda just tutted and eased them right back into his arms. "Sure you do, Little Red."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Little...Red?"

"Yup!" he grinned happily, and I took the opportunity to swipe three of the bags from him. "Like Little Red Riding Hood."

I couldn't help but laugh at that. "Wow, that sure makes me feel swell. Now I'm a trippy toddler who talks to wolves that like to eat old women, and can't tell the difference between the two. Thanks."

Soda rolled his eyes playfully. "Wrong side of the spectrum, m'dear. More like...the brave, independent toddler who tactically saves the old woman and cuts up the wolf with an ax."

"A lumberjack cut up the wolf, after the trippy toddler got eaten," I countered.

"There are different versions," he shot back, snatching a bag from me, so he had three and I had two. I decided to just give in—there was no swaying him. He seemed to notice my resolve and grinned triumphantly, his dark hazel eyes twinkling.

Walking for a long while, Soda began to spout jokes and point out things he found interesting. It was like he saw the beauty in everything, and for a moment—I envied him. I was too hateful to see the world like he did. I wondered about it, guilt coursing through me like cold water. I was too hateful. Does hating make you a bad person? Because if it does, I'm headed straight for the bottomless pit when it's time to meet my maker.

"Red? Do I need to shoot a pistol here? Hullo?" I was brought back to real life, seeing Sodapop's head was cocked to the side, and his eyes regarding me curiously. He reminded me of a puppy, sort of.

"What?" I asked stupidly.

"I said, I have a better idea. We could just take this stuff to the DX, it's much closer and I work there, and I can just bring this home in the truck. You dig?"

I considered it for a moment, then nodded. "Better than luggin' this stuff home like this."

Soda smiled. "Well, milady, right this way!" and he pivoted to an immediate left, and I almost tripped over him.

"I wish you wouldn't call me that," I grumbled, hugging the paper sacks closer.

"What? Milady?" he asked, turning to me and grinning. "You're right, I shouldn't call you that. You're not my lady yet!"

He dodged my elbow that I threw at him, since my hands were occupied, and grinned like it was the funniest thing in the world.

"I love teasing you."

"Do you want to get clobbered in the head?"

"Oh trust me, you've got me clobbered enough since I fell head over heels for you," he joked. Despite that, I felt myself blush, and he seemed to get a real riot out of that. "Aww, look, Red's turnin' red!"

I didn't reply, just walked alongside him in huffy silence. We began to near the station, a battered blue and red DX. A sign in the window read, "Closed."

Soda tried to reach into his shirt pocket, but I guess that's kind of a feat if you're carrying three heavy shopping bags in your arms. "Little help here?" he asked.

I hesitated for a moment, then, moving a bag over to my other arm, reached tentatively into his shirt pocket. Soda just grinned and wiggled his eyebrows.

"They aren't there," I said, withdrawing my hand, unsurprised.

"Maybe you should try the other pocket?" he suggested, his voice sly.

"Soda, I don't know what you're tryin' to do, but it's gettin' annoyin'."

Soda just grinned good-naturedly. "Oh really?"

"Stop bein' such a flirt, Sodapop Curtis," I said, easing the key out of his back pocket where I saw him stash it earlier. He shoved it into the lock, looking disappointed now that his little game was over. I surveyed the scene, trying to make sure I had a good bearing on my surroundings, when I noticed the garage connected to the station. And the door was open.

"Hey, Sodapop," I whispered. "I have a secret I need to tell you. It's been getting to me for a while...I need to tell someone."

Soda immediately took interest. "Of course, you can tell me anything!"

I pretended to look around to make sure no one was nearby, and leaned closer to him. "The garage door is open," I whispered loudly.

He just gave me a look that seemed shocked for a second, but then a grin spread on his face. He leaned closer to me, so close that I could smell his lavender scent, and whispered even louder back, beaming, "I know."

I elbowed him, and we went inside. "Got anything very perishable in here?" he asked, turning a bag over on the counter, so that the contents spilled, and proceeding to put it on his head. I giggled shamelessly—I couldn't help it.

"No, not really," I said, smiling, easing off my jacket and looking around. "Hey, this place is really nifty."

"I know, I love it here, almost as much as Steve does," Soda replied, leaning against the wall next to me trying to look flirtatious—with still a paper bag on his head. I laughed again, and he pushed the bag up just so that his mouth showed, and he was beaming. I snatched the bag off his head.

"While we're at is, wanna show me around? I have a little thing for cars. Not that I know anything about them," I said.

"Sure!" Soda said enthusiastically. "First, I show you the counter!" he gestured to it like a show girl. "You bring things to this counter, and Steve or I ring them up! Today, we are ringing up—" he picked up a bag of broccoli, making a face. "Broccoli. Ugh, good, I don't want that in my store anyway, unless you put butter on it!" he dropped the broccoli, regarding it in mock distaste. "And yeah, that's all this room has to offer, pretty much. So come instead to the garage!" he exclaimed, grabbing my hand and towing me along behind him. His hand was warm and calloused, but I didn't mind.

The garage was awesome. There were four car lifts, sort of like jacks built into the structure, except they lifted the cars about seven feet off the ground, where they seemed suspended in mid-air. Soda showed me around the entire thing, where the tools were and such, and what they did. He was explaining something with wrench thicknesses, but I wasn't listening, just marveling at the jack-like machine. Soda noticed and followed my gaze, his face breaking into a smile. "Like what you see?"

"I wasn't looking at you," I said immediately without thinking. Soda beamed crazily, and I felt my face get hot.

"You wanna go up in one of them?" Soda asked eagerly.

My eyes widened. "Really? That would be amazing!"

"Ask and you shall receive," he replied, winking. "I'll give you a boost."

"What?" I asked, bewildered. "But if there's a car in it, there's surely a way to lower it."

Soda waved that off. "Nah, takes too long."

"Oh...how am I gonna get up then? I hope you know I have like zero upper-body strength, I ain't hoistin' myself up."

"Okay, I have a different idea then," he said simply. Then he just jumped and grabbed the platform that two tires were supported on, and pulled himself up easily and gracefully. Never imagined I'd see a guy be that lithe.

"Well what are you goggling at? C'mon!" he said, lowering a hand to me. Hesitantly, I put my hand in his, then he gave me his other hand, and pulled me up like that, easy as pie. I seemed to weigh nothing to him.

The platform was narrow, so I was really aware that Soda had an arm around me as he opened the car door. "Ladies first?" he gestured courteously, and I carefully slid into the car, scooting across the bench seat to make room for him. He sidled in after me, slamming it shut. It was weird, being this high off the ground and knowing there was nothing directly under you. I shivered, and tried to make it look like I was stretching, but Soda noticed anyway. "Do you want my jacket?" he asked immediately.

"You don't have one, smarty," I retorted playfully.

He looked down at his arms like he didn't believe me. "Oh. Uh..." and his face lit up as he extended his arms to me. I hesitated, shaking my head. I was worried I'd end up falling asleep like that, ever since I got sick I was tired easily, and now was one of those times. Why are the guys around here so friendly?

Soda nodded like he understood, but his face looked slightly dejected, and I instantly felt bad. So I made a compromise—I leaned against him, and honestly, I'm glad I did, he was nice and warm, and I had to resist the urge to wrap my arms around him.

He seemed to pick up on what I was thinking though, because he was stifling a chuckle. Without realizing it, I began to slowly close my eyes and Soda started humming softly, and I could feel it through his chest. Soda's arm snaked over my shoulders and to my side, pressing me to him.

It didn't even occur to me to think, Hey, this is sorta awkward. It felt okay to just stay there like that. I was warm and comfortable and sleepy. Soda began to rub my arm with his thumb in slow circles, and I could feel myself fighting to stay awake, but it wasn't because I didn't want to fall asleep...I was captured in a happy moment, and I wanted it to stay like that as long as possible.

So I stayed like that, on the verge of sleep, Sodapop humming a slow tune softly, the steady rise and fall of his chest while he rubbed my arm slowly.

"Sodapop," I murmured.

"Hmm?"

I don't know why, but I didn't reply. Heck, I don't know why I spoke up in the first place. Soda just chuckled softly after that. He has a nice voice, and he's so warm.

"You know something?" he asked, but he seemed to be talking to himself. "I may not be the be the smartest person in the world, but I know one thing—love is stupid. Ah, but what do you care, Red? I don't think you love anyone. You just bear our company out of gratitude." He must have thought I was asleep. I wasn't, was I? Maybe this was all just a dream. "It hurts, because you're as heartless as Dallas Winston himself. You don't and can't love. But that doesn't mean I can't pretend. You can't love me, but it can work the other way around," I don't know why, but hearing Soda say those things really made me die a little inside. Not because of what he said about me. But because of how pained he sounded.

I don't care, I thought to myself. I'm happy, so it doesn't matter.

Maybe I really am heartless.

I woke up, and I was nestled into Soda's lap, my head resting against his shoulder, and his arms encircled me. His jacket, that he hadn't had last night, was draped over us. I looked out the now closed garage door to see the sun just barely clearing the horizon. It had to have been very early morning. Darry must be worried.

I didn't know how to move off of Soda without waking him, so I just sat there, feeling my face burning. How did I always end up with my arms around someone, or their arms around me?

I gazed at Soda's face, realizing for the first time how exceptionally handsome he really was. I mean, I had always known he was above average, but now, with the early morning sunrise on his face, he looked like Apollo's younger, better-looking brother. I could describe everything about him that made him look so much better than other guys, but the list would probably be close to endless.

How the guy didn't have a girlfriend, I didn't know. Not that it mattered to me anyway. It wasn't my business.

Sitting there, I just watched his face, and I had an urge to trace the lines of it with my fingertip. But then I heard a low noise, and felt it too, reverberating. I wondered what it was, and out of curiosity, placed my hand on Soda's chest. So that's what it was—he was humming. He smiled before he even opened his eyes, and I couldn't help but smile too—suddenly his dark hazel eyes were on me, and now he was grinning.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty."

I blushed as his grip around me tightened a little. "Good morning, Sodapop."

He chuckled. "Has anybody ever told you that you're really pretty in the sunrise?"

I felt my face get even more red. "Well...no..."

He rested his fingertips on my face, and I could see that he looked sad. "You are. Your eyes...the gold really stands out." He traced one of his fingers along my face, and normally I would have been so uncomfortable that I would've squirmed away, but now I couldn't move—I was frozen. I couldn't think either, so I just sat there like a dumb duck.

"You still haven't told me how you got this scar," he reminded me, still tracing it with his index finger, his hazel eyes flicking to mine. I realized I wasn't breathing, and took a deep breath that came out a sigh. Sodapop looked at me quizzically.

"I—I got that two years ago, right after I first left. I was heading north to New York, but somehow screwed up and went on a small detour to Newark, in NJ." I paused and flinched, remembering the ordeal. It still sent shivers down my spine. "In Newark I was looking for a place to stay the night, since no one had given me a ride out of there—and I try to avoid traveling at night, because...well, because..." I stopped again, and swallowed, but continued anyway. "Well I hadn't any money at all, and a hotel manager had kicked me onto the street. A guy offered me a place to stay, and I thought about it, but turned him down quickly. He didn't like that. He pinned me to a wall, and demanded I come with him, or..." I put my hand over his fingertips, feeling the soft line of the scar down my face. "He cut me. It...it wouldn't have been so bad, but he did it slowly—and he threatened me. With everything under the sun."

Soda was quiet for a moment. "He scared you. The stupid bastard just wanted to scare you."

"Maybe," I said, shivering involuntarily. It still gave me the creeps.

Soda noticed and pulled me closer. "They ain't gonna hurt you no more," he sighed.

Suddenly, Steve tapped on the window, making me jump and Soda swear under his breath. I tried to discreetly scoot off of Soda's lap, but his arms held me there like a straight jacket as he rolled down the window. "What do you want?" he asked, and I could tell he was trying not to sound annoyed.

Steve looked haughtily back at him, trying to be humorous, but he was tense. Something was up?

"Well, I just came to tell you that I covered your sorry—er...butt—yesterday. Darry flipped when you guys weren't there when he got home, and I said that you told me you were gonna go to the station—which was a complete lie of course, I had no idea you were planning to go anywhere. I came here anyway, because Jeb said he we were in charge of closing up shop, and the lights were on and stuff, and you guys were sitting up here being cute, but Red looked cold so I got your jacket, and...well geez Sodapop you don't give the other guys a fair chance, not even Ponyboy!" Steve said quickly.

Throughout this I eased myself slowly off of Soda while he listened to Steve, and he finally noticed—his eyes seemed confused and hurt, like he was was asking why.

I bit my lip nervously, and I was pressed against the opposite door of the car like a cornered animal. "Well, I really have to...uh...take them groceries home..."

Steve waved his hand. "No need, I took them back and hid them from the other guys. I realized it was Thanksgiving stuff. Say, do you mind if I come over and eat with you guys?" he asked Soda.

Soda nodded, his eyebrows knit together. I felt horrible. "Sure you can," he said absently.

Suddenly a voice from down below called, "Hey you guyyys!" and Ponyboy's head popped up over the platform, except on this side of the car, the rest of him following as he lifted himself up onto the jack. "Hey, Little Red," he said, opening my door and pulling me out of the car.

He swung me around, and I protested in panic, "Be careful, you're gonna kill me! We're on a ledge you know!" but he didn't seem to care. For a second, he almost dropped me, and without thinking I wrapped my arms and legs around Pony's torso, yelling my head off. Heights kind of bothered me—not that they stopped me from living my life. I could deal. Unless I'm being dropped from one of those heights.

Ponyboy laughed lightly at my reaction.

"It's not funny," I growled, detaching myself from him. When I looked into the vehicle, Soda's head was on the steering wheel, and Steve was muttering into his ear. I felt horrible. I was going to pipe up, but then Ponyboy said, "Close your eyes, I got something to show you."

I scoffed in disbelief. "Fat chance. You'll throw me off the side."

Ponyboy rolled his eyes. "I like you too much to kill you, Little Red. C'mon, please?"

I bit my lip, thinking for a moment. Ah, what the heck. "Fine, go for it," I said, shutting my eyelids. Suddenly, something tickled my lips. I raised my eyebrows, wondering what it was, but then it was gone, and Pony pressed something into my hand.

"You can look now."

I opened my eyes and raised my hand to my face, and there was a daisy. A little daisy, but a daisy nevertheless. "Where did you—" I began, but he pressed a finger to my lips.

"A master shares naught his secrets."

"And that means?"

"Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies," he says, quoting me. I cracked a smile, tucking the flower into my braid. I don't know why, but I liked to wear braids just to be able to stick things in them. It didn't even matter what it was, not really. Pencils, paperclips, jewelry (not that I really had any), and my favorite—flowers.

Ponyboy cocked his head quizzically.

"What?" I asked. "Ain't you ever seen a girl with a flower in her hair?"

"Not one that has hair longer than Rapunzel's."

I rolled my eyes. "You should meet some of the hippies yonder north. There is some major long hair and flowers."

Pony shrugged, and kneeling, grabbed the side of the platform. He gave me a devilish grin and somersaulted over the side.

I squeaked, and Steve glanced up from his conversation with Soda. "What?"

Ponyboy emerged from under the jack, and beamed at me smugly. "Your turn."

I looked at him in disbelief. "You're going to have an easier time luring a piece of cheese to a mouse."

"You can't lure cheese to a mouse," Steve pointed out. "You can't lure it much of anywhere."

"Exactly."

"Well, you could just jump down," Pony suggested.

"Hah, no," I said, crossing my arms.

"I'll catch you," he offered, extending his arms. I shook my head, and he cocked his. "What's wrong?" he asked curiously. "It's like ten feet."

"Do you need her to draw a picture?" Soda asked him, getting out of the car and crossing over to this side of the jack. "She's uncomfortable with heights."

"Oh. Then how the heck are you gonna get down?" Pony asked.

"Like this," Soda said, scooping me up before I could protest, then jumping off the thing. I think I might have accidentally strangled him a bit, because his laughter was clipped, and when he set me down he rubbed his neck.

"Sodapop whatever-the-hell-your-middle-name-is Curtis!" I seethed. "If you ever, ever pull something like that again, I will personally put a bullet where the sun don't shine!"

You could tell I was completely ticked, because I try not to swear, ever.

He only smirked, and Ponyboy gave him a cold look, grabbing me on the shoulder and wheeling me around. "C'mon," he mumbled, and we left.