A/N: It's been a month. An entire month. Ugh, we're sorry! Life's been hectic with school and whatnot, but still, sorry about that. Before we say anything else, thank you all SOOOO MUCH for reading, favoriting, following, and reviewing our story! It brings a smile to our face whenever we get a notification about this story. It means a whole lot to us!
This chapter is extra long to try and help make up for our long interval without updating. This is in Kristina's perspective and is mostly about Soda and the baby, and her date with Curly. Think the date will go well? Yes, no, maybe so? Well, it wouldn't be our story if there was no drama. You'll have to read and find out ;). Anyway, please read, review, and enjoy! Thanks so much! :D
Chapter 14: Kindred Spirits
Kristina's Perspective
I knew two things for absolute sure: one, Elvis had great hair, and two, Two-Bit Mathews was a total fucking idiot. There was a time and a place, THERE WAS A TIME AND A PLACE. Right now, when Darry looked like he wanted to light him on fire, I would've given him the match.
Darry's expression was priceless. It could've gone in the museum of "Holy shit" moments, and been the most expensive exhibit. I wasn't going to lie and say it wasn't entertaining, but I also wouldn't be a total asshole and say that aloud- that was Two-Bit level dumb.
"Way to go, Two-Shit," I hissed over to him, "what a class act." Since Darry might as well have been frozen solid, I trotted over to their kitchen counter and snatched up Sandy's letter, wanting to be helpful. I tapped on Pony's shoulder and shoved it into his hands, and he nodded in thanks.
Steve dragged Soda's limp form over to the couch as Pony handed Darry the letter, telling him, "Sandy wrote this to Sodapop. You probably should read it."
Since I was already close, Echo turned around and passed the baby over to me without any warning before leading a stunned Darry over to the couch next to Soda. Surprised, I had to adjust the little thing so I was supporting her head well enough.
She looked up at me with these big brown eyes and I softened, bouncing her a little in place. I knew that within a week she would have every single person in the entire damn gang wrapped around her little finger. Kiki, Johnny, and Two-Bit following me closely, I sat down in front of Steve, Soda, Pony, Darry, and Echo with Melody still in my grasp.
Melody squirmed and gave off an innocent little cry, and I found myself shushing her, caressing her milky white cheek with my thumb. This was one lucky baby. Yeah, her own mother abandoned her, but at least she never would have to deal with her. Half the time I wished my own mother had given me up for adoption. And Soda would be a loving, caring father. Little Melody would never have to know what it was like to have a father like mine.
She would have a large, albeit dysfunctional family, but everyone would have her back and would do anything for her. That was one lucky kid. Look at me, I thought, disgusted in myself, I'm practically jealous of an innocent baby.
Darry's eyes scanned the letter and after he finished, I half-expected him to crumple it up and rip it to shreds before Soda could even read it. There couldn't have been a lot of things to throw Darry off his orbit, but this was definitely had to be in the top three.
"Soda got Sandy pregnant?" he choked out after a few moments of excruciatingly tense silence. "And . . . she left the b-baby?" Echo rubbed his shoulders comfortingly and Pony bumped him on the side in that manly way that boys viewed as a form of affection.
"Exhibit A," I said, lifting the adorable little thing up in the air. He stared at her like he just noticed her for the first time.
"How do we even know the baby's his? We're just jumping to conclusions. Sandy could be lying," Darry insisted, clearly entering a state of denial. "She cheated on him. The baby could be-"
"Didn't you read the letter, Superman?" Two-Bit interrupted good-naturedly. "The "other man" is black. I don't know about you, but that is one of the whitest babies I've seen in my whole goddamn life." He was absolutely right, that was one pale baby.
"Look at her, Dar," said Echo softly, gently, "she looks just like him."
I shifted her around in my arms and queried, "Do you want to hold her?" I didn't really wait for him to answer, I just passed Melody over to him.
It was funny how positively tiny she looked in his enormous arms. He held her like he had no idea what to do with her and when she reached up to grab a single finger of his with her entire hand, a tiny little smile blessed his face. "She . . . she has his eyes."
"Holy shit, Soda made a thing," Steve remarked as he craned his neck for a better look. "Guys, Soda made a thing! Damn, I told that boy to use protection. I told 'im I didn't want to be an Uncle Stevie."
Darry kicked him in the shin while still managing to balance Melody perfectly. It was very endearing. Normally, Darry seemed very uptight and paranoid, and would probably be freaking out over the whole financial uptight, but the baby cast some sort of spell over him; he was entranced. "Hi," he murmured, playing with the baby's bitty hand. "Hey there. I'm, um . . . I'm your Uncle Darry." Aw, well that was downright adorable. There was something about a smoking hot, muscular man with a baby to boot. It was almost surreal.
A loud groan escaped from Soda's lips and he shifted around, slurring, "Guys, I had the weirdest dream, there was this baby-" As his eyelids peeled open, he jumped as reality became apparent to him. "There it is."
"Little buddy," Darry said with almost palpable undertones of sternness, "I told you to be careful with Sandy, but you obviously didn't listen. You're going to have to deal with the consequences now- we all are."
As if it was possible, Soda's face seemed to grow only paler after hearing her name. So, from what I summed up, this Sandy chick not only left Soda with a broken heart but apparently now a baby. What was she going to do next? Burn his house down?
It took a long while for him to say anything but no one would have dared to speak. The first thing he asked was a surprise to us all.
"What's her name?" His voice was barely above a whisper. Soda simply looked at the child and seemed to hold his breath as if the answer met everything to him. He hovered his hand over her for a brief second then retracted it, like he was afraid she would dissipate into a cloud of mist or shatter like fragile china. Or he just didn't want to believe she was real.
Saying the first thing in what felt like hours, Johnny answered him, "Her name is Melody. Melody Rose Curtis. Isn't that a sweet name, Soda?" He sounded hopeful.
"M-Melody." It was all he said. I was afraid he was going to pass out again.
"She looks just like you, man, you're gonna have to be chasin' greaser boys away with a baseball bat," said Two-Bit with a big, goofy grin on his face. "I'll help ya. Ain't no loser gettin' near the Melster." Not the time, Two-Shit, not the time.
We all had a boiling point, so it was quite understandable (thanks a lot, Two-Shit!) when Soda reached his. He jumped from the couch, nearly shoving Steve over in the process (that made me smile, but I didn't really know why, he just annoyed me from the get-go). "What in the flying fuck is going on right now?! Huh? I come home from work and there's a fuckin' baby waitin' for me that my ex dropped off, who I thought fucked someone else and got pregnant with his kid, but no, the baby's mine? What the fuck is happening?" Wow, I didn't think he knew how to swear that much. We learned something new every day!
Soda was pacing furiously and erratically like an angry bull and Johnny, Kiki, and I scooted away from him as to not receive a kick. His nostrils were flared and his fists clenched. But beneath all that anger and denial, I saw it. I saw the fear locked away in his gaze. That boy was downright terrified.
Pony and Echo's eyes were huge. Clearly they had never heard him swear so much in one sitting- they didn't know what it was like to have a brother like Dally.
"Soda, calm down and watch your mouth!" Darry barked and the baby started to wail in her misery. Echo, who really seemed to be a natural at all this, gingerly took her from Darry and away from the whole confrontation, bouncing her and shushing her. "Great, you set off the baby."
Soda's voice was so strained it was beginning to sound shriek-y, like a banshee of some sort. Well, he was a seventeen-year-old carefree kid who just found out he was a father, you could hardly blame the guy. "You make it sound NORMAL! I-I feel like I just stepped into a whole other universe, l-like in that show . . ."
"Twilight Zone?" Kiki finished for him helpfully, and he nodded fiercely.
"Yeah, yeah, t-that. This ain't happening right now. Sandy never came back, there ain't no baby, there-"
Darry was officially unamused. "Just 'cause you don't want it to happen doesn't mean it ain't, Soda. You can't just wish it all away."
"Like hell I can't!" he bit back. "How're you takin' this so well? How is anyone takin' this so well? What's wrong with y'all?"
At this point, I was fearing a mental breakdown coming soon, but before I could voice my opinion in anyway, Darry argued, "Do you think this is easy for me, Soda? Huh?" He stood to his feet, and from a sitting position on the floor, let me tell you that it felt something like sitting right underneath the Eiffel fucking tower. "This is your mistake, little buddy, and I can't even wrap my mind around it right now, let alone deal with it. All I was expecting was to come home after work and eat some dinner- by the way, Echo, it is your night-"
"Great timing, Dar," she retorted with a grimace from behind the couch once the baby virtually quieted down again.
Darry brushed that one off. "Right, anyway, you're going to have to put a lid on it, Soda. Because I read the letter Sandy left. And I looked at that baby, looked into her eyes. Your eyes, Soda. There ain't no damn doubt to me that she's yours. Now, did I expect to come home one night and find out I have a little baby niece? Hell no. I still can't believe it, so that might be why I'm not kicking your ass down the street right now. This is your screw up, and you have to face the consequences like a man. I know it's gonna be a hard pill to swallow, damn near impossible, but that baby's your daughter. And Sandy . . . Sandy ain't coming back. So, because of your irresponsibility, we all have to deal with your mistake now. But I don't want you to think about that right now. I want you to look at that baby and tell me she's not yours. I dare you."
Soda, as if motivated to prove him wrong, rushed around the couch to stare down at the baby. He clearly did not receive the results he was expecting. His mouth dropped ajar as he looked at her. With her fuzzy blonde hair, and big brown eyes, and just an overall uncanny resemblance to him, there was no doubt to anybody that that baby was Soda's daughter.
"Oh my God," he choked out, his knees wavering beneath him. He had to use the couch to support his weight. "This . . . this is insane."
"No one said it wasn't," Steve breathed, his eyes comically bugged out. "Man, of all of us, I always thought Darry would have a kid first- or Two-Bit, if he knocked up his broad."
Everyone ignored him except Two-Bit, who sputtered some self-righteous nonsense about how he was smarter than that and he wasn't aiming to be a daddy anytime soon- but far less coherently.
"C-can I hold her?" It was a weak request, barely audible, but I heard it. Soda wanted to hold his daughter. "If this ain't all a dream, and I ain't losing my mind . . ."
Echo gladly passed on the baby and though his face was as pale as a sheet (the poor boy must have been afraid to drop her), he still took her in his arms. Walking carefully and meticulously over to the couch, he sat down next to Darry.
That baby had to be magic. Her ability to cast spells on typically tough greasers was simply extraordinary. With the way they acted around her, even in such a short time, it was obvious to me that little Melody had the older Curtis men already wrapped around her little finger.
Greaser boy image be damned, it was clear that Soda forgot about everything and everyone in the room but his baby daughter. "Uh . . . hi there. My name's Sodapop, but you can call me Soda. Or, um, Dad. Well, uh, maybe not, 'cause you can't talk yet, but you will. Don't really know when, but you will." His rambling was just the most precious thing. "I know you don't know me, and I don't really know you either, but I'm your dad. And . . . and that means something. You're gonna, um . . . you're gonna live here and we're gonna take care of you real good. I promise."
All of us non-family members exchanged meaningful looks; we knew it was time for us to skedaddle. This was very much a family moment, and we didn't need to impose on it with our presence.
"Well, this has been mighty fine, but I don't think dinner's gonna be happenin' anytime soon, so I think I might scoot my lazy ass outta here," said Two-Bit with a surprisingly good cover story- for him, at least. "Comin', Kiki? You can come too, Johnny, Kris, Stevie."
"You don't haveta go," Ponyboy protested, but we were already halfway to the door. Soda's eyes never left his daughter, so he didn't even notice the commotion.
"Y'all have fun," Steve tossed over his shoulder as we exited. He gave Kiki and I looks after we were outside that made it clear that he only wanted to hang with Johnny and Two-Bit. Which was fine, because I already had plans and didn't need a greasy-haired Steve to ruin them.
Two-Bit didn't seem to pick up on his hint. "So, where to next, gang?"
"Well, I have plans, so this is where I must leave you." Without allowing for any responses, I started on my way to Buck's house. Of course, that just couldn't be the end of it.
"What?" I turned around to see Two-Bit look properly outraged. "Why, Kris, I thought we were fast friends, but here ya go, already ditchin' lonely ol' Two-Bit."
"Um, we're here, too," Kiki grumbled, but he took no notice of that.
"C'mon, wherever ya goin', we'll tag along!" It was so hard to say no to him, so instead I just began to walk off so I wouldn't have to say anything at all.
"She has a date with Curly Shepard," Kiki ratted me and I came to a screeching stop. Hold up. How the FUCK does she know? Then I came to a conclusion. Echo couldn't keep her damn mouth shut.
Steve released a low whistle as I turned around to face all of them and Kiki cringed, as if afraid I would lash out at her. I had a half mind to do that.
Johnny looked as wary as ever and Two-Bit . . . surprisingly serious. The mirth just disappeared down the drain. Even Steve's interest was sharpened. "Kris," Two-Bit started, walking over to me, "that ain't such a hot idea. He's a Shepard; he ain't got a good reputation, and he's too old for ya. You need to stay clear of that one."
Even Two-Bit was against this? It was clear to me now how truly little they understood my personality, because if they did, they'd know that I could handle myself perfectly fine. "Two-Bit, I appreciate your concern," I ground out, "but this ain't none of your business."
Johnny shuffled on over with his hands in his pockets and told me, "Y'know, Pony's kinda friends with the guy so I've seen him around. He ain't such good company- he'll get ya into trouble." Two-Bit nodded vigorously.
"You all seem to forget that I'm a Winston!" I had to count to five in my head to keep my temper in check. "My brother's Dally Winston, and I've fought with the best of 'em before. I've fought against Crips and Bloods, hell, fought alongside a few Crips. Curly Shepard ain't no match for me."
With that, I spun around on my heel and resumed the walk back to Buck's place, but then Two-Bit said something I never thought he'd say. "You take one more step and I'll tell Dally."
My blood ran cold and I was up in Two-Bit's face before anybody could blink. "Don't you dare," I hissed, revealing my tough, potentially scary gangster side I often kept dormant. I was quite a force back in New York and Two-Bit actually took a step back.
Steve seemed to pick up on the fact that this wasn't going to end anytime soon, so he flung an arm around Johnny and called over his shoulder, "Two-Bit, Johnny and I are gonna catch a movie. Meet you there when you're done with all this." Johnny didn't seem to have much choice in the matter, and Two-Bit didn't answer. Kiki just stood to the side awkwardly.
It turns out, Two-Bit wasn't backing down. He looked sterner than I'd ever seen him (hell, we were partying hard two nights before), almost like when Kiki found her way onto his bad side. "Kris, I'm an older brother and if Kiki decided to up and date Curly Shepard, I'd flip the fuck out."
"I wouldn't do that," Kiki inserted helpfully and Two-Bit flashed her a half-smile.
"Dally's my buddy," he continued, "and I owe it to him to keep his kid sister safe, just like I expect him to do. You either don't go, or I tell 'im. Pick one." His stormy gray eyes were stony.
Outrage was too mild of an emotion to how I felt. Incandescent rage seemed to fit the bill better. "Two-Bit, I think you and I have the potential to be real good friends, but you're stepping over a fucking line. We barely know each other, and I want to get to know ya better, but that ain't happening if you tell Dally. Look, Dally and I have a history that you don't understand. We've learned to tolerate each other since yesterday, but that's the extent of it."
All my anger seeped from my body, and a deep, lonely sadness replaced it. "We have a lot of shit to talk about, and neither of us have brought it up. Please, please don't ruin what we've managed to build so far. I hadn't seen him in seven years, and we at the very least built a foundation, but it's gonna need a lot of work and you tattlin' on me is gonna ensure that our relationship's over before it even started. So, Two-Bit, if you like or care about me at all, please don't do this to me."
He softened up, just as I expected. It wasn't a manipulation ploy on my part, though, for once I was actually speaking straight from my heart.
"Just be careful," he stammered out, "and if somethin' goes wrong, you get outta there and find me. I'll be at the drive-in with Kiki over here, and Steve and Johnny. I won't tell Dally."
"Thank you, Two-Bit." Before I could even begin to comprehend what I was doing, I had my arms wrapped around his middle in a tight embrace. "You don't know how much this means to me."
"Aw shucks, I know how great I am, ya don't need to go on tellin' me. Well, ya could, I ain't gonna stop ya."
"Egotistical, much?" Kiki teased, and I pulled out of the hug. Two-Bit playfully socked me on the shoulder and bid me adieu with,
"You have fun, but not too much fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do . . . that ain't saying much. Don't do anything I would do." I laughed and we parted ways. I was in higher spirits now, but also potentially late, so I practically sprinted the rest of the way there.
Hoping to all deities out there that Dally wasn't in his room, I took the stairs up two at a time and breathed a sigh of relief to find it absent of his presence. "One less thing to worry about."
I quickly changed out of my jeans and pulled on one of my leather skirts, threw on one of my considerably tighter tank tops, but decided to keep my French braid in and wear my leather jacket in case it got too cold. I didn't feel like walking in stilettos all night, so I kept on my ratty Converse, banking on the fact that my shoe type wasn't any kind of deal breaker.
As the clock struck exactly six, I hurried down the stairs and grinned real wide when I saw Curly waiting for me. He cleaned up real nice- well, he looked the same as this morning, but he was handsome so I didn't mind.
"I have arrived!" I chirped, joining him by his side. He cast me an amused look.
"Yeah, I noticed and," he looked me up and down, "you look great." I blushed and muttered a hasty thank you. "I was thinkin' we could head down to the pool house. They have tables and food there, too, so we could eat there."
"Sounds good to me, let's bounce."
The breeze floating around me was pleasantly cool and ruffled my braid and stray strands of blonde hair. Curly's hair was so greasy that it hardly budged. The silence was a comfortable one and I revelled in the fact that neither one of us were those people that felt the need to fill the void of conversation with meaningless drabble.
The pool house was my scene. Greasers screwing around, the aroma of fried food wafting in the air, the sweet sound of poor souls being hustled in pool. "Too crowded for ya?" he asked after a moment when I didn't say anything. "We can go, if ya want."
"It's perfect," I grinned, and coyly poked him in the stomach. "What? Backin' out already? Afraid you're gonna get your ass kicked at pool?"
He outright scoffed at me. "Yeah, sure, in your dreams. Let's play and find out."
Dreams became reality. A little more than a half hour later, a basket of greasy, salty fries resided on our booth top table and I was in the process of assuredly kicking his ass in pool for the third game in a row. His shock cracked me up to no end.
"Oh, well, there we go!" I sang as I knocked the final eight ball into the right corner pocket. "I guess I won again- surprise, surprise. Winning's a little exhausting, don't you think- oh, right."
Curly knew I was only rigging him, but he played along with my game. "Aw, I let ya win."
"Three times in a row? I love your logic."
"Shut up." He led the way back to our table and slipped in a seat, and feeling particularly bold tonight, I scooted in after him and sat right on his lap. Just like that. No warning, no nothin'.
"Ah, the sweet smell of success and French fries," I gloated whilst popping a few of those glorious heart-stoppers into my mouth. He wriggled beneath me slightly, but he most certainly did not push me off. A playful pout adjourned on his lips, so I craned my neck around and crooned, "Aw, baby, don't worry. I'll let ya win next time!"
"You didn't tell me you were a pool shark," he managed to say while chewing on a mouthful of fries of his own. "I feel cheated."
"I did not cheat." My outrage was feigned, but the mild indignation was real. "I hustled you. There's a difference. When we do this again, then you better learn it!"
His eyebrows quirked up and a smirk tweaked up the corners of his mouth. "Well, then- yes, ma'am." Then he absorbed the second part of my rebuttal. "So, we're gonna be doing this again now, aren't we?"
A light blush crept to my cheeks and I turned away. "I didn't say that. I said 'if,' not when."
He was all out grinning now. "You said 'when.'"
"I did not."
"You did."
"Didn't."
"Did."
"Did no-" He interrupted our childish by doing something entirely unexpected. He kissed me. Like, not one of those polite first date pecks. A real kiss, full of passion and excitement. One that made me feel alive.
And hell yes, did I kiss that boy back. I shifted myself around accordingly to straddle his lap, deciding to turn this into a full-blown makeout session. His hands groped up and down my waist, and my fingers found themselves gripping at his greasy dark hair. Our lips danced together in perfect harmony, and for a few beautiful moments, it was like nothing else in the entire world mattered.
Until some jackass had to ruin it. Before you ask, it wasn't my asshole brother. Uh uh, it was his asshole brother. "Curly, gettin' some action over there?"
We reluctantly broke apart and recognition flared up in Tim's eyes. Crap, he remembers me! I hastily unwound my legs from Curly's hips and sat beside him, as if that would allow me to maintain some level of innocence.
"Does Dally know you're here?" Damn, straight down to business. There was no, "Hi, nice to see you again," or anything like that, just "There's no way Dally would approve of this shit."
"Um . . . yes?" Well, my cover was blown. I was usually so much better at lying and manipulating, but Curly's kiss threw me off. In a good way, of course. In a fucking fantastic way.
"Get lost, Tim, this ain't any of your business!" Curly threw at him, and even I knew that wasn't the best idea in the world.
"It is my fucking business," he shot back, sliding in the seat in front of us, "when my little brother's fuckin' around with my friend's kid sister. Look, kid," he directed toward me, "I didn't know you existed, but just like I expect Dally to watch out for Angel, he'd expect me to watch out for you. So, he's gotta know about this."
Well, this night wasn't turning out the way I wanted it to. It started out so perfectly, maybe it was just my crappy luck that it had to unfold like this. "Hell no!" I said more loudly than I originally intended. Lowering my voice, I added, "Tim, I know I don't know you, but you can't do that. You just can't."
"I can and I will, kid." There was no anger present, no judgment. He was just . . . even, neutral even. Like it wasn't a big deal to him, but he knew what he had to do and nobody could stop him. That boy (man, technically) would make an excellent hit man for the mafia.
Curly pushed me lightly on the shoulder to coax me out of the booth, then climbed out himself. Tim may have not been too heated about it, but Curly sure as hell was. "Y'know what, Tim? You can take your threats and shove 'em up your ass. Me and Kris are leavin'."
Curly was pulling me out the door before I could even blink an eye. I could hear Tim faintly yelling, "Come back here!" in the background, but he was completely ignored.
"Sorry about that, Kris, but I just had to get outta there," he fumed, shoving his hands in his pockets and slouching his shoulders. "Tim's just gotta learn to get the fuck off my back sometimes."
"I know what you mean," I sympathized, though I didn't really understand the extent of it when I didn't see my own big brother for seven years. "Well, sorta. I don't have a whole lot of experience to base it on."
His anger swelling down, he looked up at me with bright, curious eyes. "What do ya mean?"
Night wrapped us in a cool blanket of faded stars. We weren't walking anywhere in particular. There was a more direct route we could've taken back to Buck's place, but we didn't end up going that way. It wasn't like we were skulking through any dark alleys or anything, our path remained as well-lit and open as possible- though both of us could handle ourselves, we weren't itching for a fight.
"I haven't seen him in seven years," I told him honestly. "Dally, I mean. We lived in New York together with my momma and the old man, and he couldn't take it anymore so he just ran off. Last time I saw him, I was only six. He just . . . left, and never looked back."
"And you're still mad at him for it," Curly guessed, and I nodded stiffly. "Why'd you up and come here anyway? Like ya said, he left ya seven years ago. Why'd you decide to up and see him?"
Huh, Curly was more insightful than I had given him credit for. I liked this new information. So, the least I could do was be truthful. "My momma had an overdose a week or so ago. Almost died." He listened closely, even more somber than before. "I guess she sorta did, for a little while. I had to do CPR, restart her heart, then steal a damn car and race her over to the hospital."
"God," Curly muttered under his breath and I smiled bitterly.
"If that guy even exists, then he sure as hell wasn't watching over me that day." Oh well, now was not the time to question my religious beliefs or lack thereof. "Anyway, a couple days ago I came home from school, and she was high again. I was done, so I left. I had enough of her, but I had nowhere to go, so I came here."
By now, we were strolling around in familiar territory. Almost to the Curtis neighborhood, actually. I vaguely wondered how we managed to find our way over here, but it wasn't a big deal, so I brushed off the thought.
"What about your dad?" he asked tentatively. There was a subject I wasn't willing to delve into.
"Prison," was all I said.
"That a good or bad thing?"
That peaked my interest. Most people would've instantly apologized and lamented over the fact, but he knew better. He knew what it was like to have a parent who sometimes was better off gone. He . . . understood me.
"Best damn thing to ever happen to me." He nodded, unsurprised, as if he'd expected that answer. "What about you? You have a black eye, said your step-dad did it. I'm guessing he's a flaming asshole?"
He laughed without any humor and then nodded in affirmation. "Yeah, he's a dick. But my dad was no better. Well, I can't really say, I guess. He walked out when I was a little kid, around three, but my ma said he was a shitty enough boyfriend and dad anyway. Angel was just a baby when he left, but Tim remembers him. Maybe that's why he's so fucked up."
"Sounds like your mom has a crap taste in men," I remarked bluntly, and he nodded vigorously.
"Sounds like your mom did, too."
"Touché."
"Y'know," he began thoughtfully. "I never told anyone this. I dunno why I'm telling you."
Our place had slowed considerably, so I positioned myself in front of him and smiled weakly. "Neither have I. I don't know, I guess . . . you're just different."
His dark brown eyes were warm and soft. "So are you."
The night was overwhelmingly peaceful. No birds were chirping, no sirens, no voices, just . . . silence. A welcoming silence. It suited us, embraced us. The two lost, wounded, broken souls brought together by sheer luck.
And we kissed for the second time that night, but this time was different. There was passion, yes, but something else. It felt like the bonding of two kindred spirits, finding solace in the other. It was like nothing I'd ever felt.
"Nice night, isn't it?" I pried my lips off of Curly's to find the source of the voice, and my heart sank to the bottom of my stomach, where it suffered a horrible death of acid and the like. Because that's what this felt like.
"Dally," I choked out, blindly groping for Curly's hand, more out of concern for his safety than my own. "This isn't what it looks like."
My brother appeared from out of the shadows, but my eyes were drawn to something else. A flash of metal. Moonlight gleamed off the blade of his knife as he twirled it around in his fingers. His icy blue eyes . . . were even sharper than the blade. "It could be a nice night." His lips curled into a sinister sneer. "Not for you, Curly."
And then he attacked.
A/N: So, what'd you think? We told you there'd be drama. Like it? Love it? Hate it? Let us know! :)