Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders. Christina Grimmie owns "Sublime."

(AndThatWasEnough owns Bridget Stevens.)

Gettin' lost in your blue skies

All my senses come alive

Every second amplified tonight

August 13 – 14, 1966

Ella was glad that her mother was working Saturday night at the bar, because she would be absolutely damned if she had to introduce Dallas Winston as her date. It's not like she could avoid the issue for long, though, which she knew, but she had to also remind herself that this was simply a date and nothing more. Still, the idea had excited her for the rest of the week, and Dallas occupied her mind day in and day out, and she would often find herself waking out of a daydream to have Ginger snapping at her, or Evie flicking her on the shoulder or something. Speaking of Evie, the brunette hadn't exactly looked all that excited for Ella going out with Dallas, but in the end, there was nothing she could really do, so she instead decided to support her friend's (poor) choices.

But the lingering thought of telling her mother about Dallas caused a sinking feeling in the very pit of her fluttering gut, and Ella decided that she would do her best to keep her date to herself. If anything happened, as in her and Dallas becoming an item . . . well, she dreaded what she would say to her mother, who was still bitter over learning that Ella had given up walking at graduation all for what she deemed a no good hoodlum, someone who probably wasn't worthy of her daughter's help.

But, so far, she was enjoying her time with Dallas. They had gone to the Nightly Double, hardly paying attention to the beach movie that was playing on the large screen ahead. Ella wasn't particularly that interested in seeing a movie anyway—she just wanted to spend time with Dallas. He didn't seem too engrossed in the movie, either, and Ella could tell that he was growing antsy, but she didn't know what to do. The only person she had ever been on a date with was Craig, and usually, he would do whatever she wanted to, but he'd always asked her first, or initiated it. Ella wasn't sure how to approach the blond-headed hood with anything, and truthfully, he still made her feel nervous, albeit in a good way.

She cleared her throat, running the hem of her skirt through her fingers. "So." She turned to face him, lips pursing. "You don't look like you're having fun."

"I ain't," he admitted, and then looked at her with a cocky expression. "But there's plenty of other things we could be doin' that might be fun."

Ella's chest tightened at the insinuation. She wanted to kiss him so badly, she did, but she swore to herself that she wouldn't do so—she didn't want him to think that she was like that, that she was so easy that she would let him entertain himself on the very first date. Her thoughts nagged at her that he wouldn't be interested in her if she didn't do anything, though, if she didn't at least enjoy herself, too. But Ella wasn't one to easily give in or cave, and she was stubborn and hard-headed, too. No, she told herself, she wouldn't give in to Dallas.

"Then why don't we leave and find something else to do?" she suggested, watching his face carefully twist into a surprised look. "We could go to the bowling alley, or . . . get something to eat—"

"Yeah," he agreed, rubbing his fingers over the stubble on his chin. "Yeah, a bite to eat sounds good."

With that, he turned the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life, and he backed out of the lot to head downtown to one of the cheaper diners. Ella had been surprised that Dallas had bothered to pay for them to sit in the car—Buck's T-Bird—at the movies. Then again, he had actually kept his word and had shown up . . . well, a few minutes after seven, for their date that night, but he had come just like he said he would. She contemplated his motives as he drove to the diner, wondering if he really liked her or not. She wanted to tell herself that he did, but no matter how much she tried to force them away, Evie's words haunted her mind, a strong reminder that Dallas Winston wasn't a good guy, that he was dangerous.

The diner wasn't crowded at all, which wasn't surprising for a late Saturday night. Everyone was out at the movies, or the bowling alley, or down by the lake, and for a split second, Dallas fancied the idea of taking Ella to the lake, a smirk crossing his lips. Hell, he'd taken a few girls there before, but he had a feeling that Ella would probably get out of the car and run away if he did that. The thought in itself was comical, and he had a feeling he wouldn't be getting anything from his date that night. Ella wasn't like that, he knew that much, but it wouldn't stop him from trying. Besides, she was dressed in a shorter skirt—not too short—and a blouse with a few buttons undone, and he could only imagine himself ripping it all the way open and going to town. Fuck.

Pulling into the parking lot, he shook his head, ridding himself of those thoughts. Fuckin' Ella, Christ, but he hadn't been able to get that chick off his mind for the past few nights, and she was driving him straight up a damn wall.

He didn't say anything to her as he got out of the car, making his way into the building with only a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure she was following. Once inside, they sat in one of the back booths, only a few other customers making up the rest of their company. Dallas scoffed, wrinkling his nose before letting his gaze settle on the girl across from him. Her face was flushed, her eyes on the table as she stared down at the paper menu in front of herself. She'd hardly said a word to him all night, and he was beginning to think she really was that nervous. Hell, Ella had always been rather reserved, quiet unless someone addressed her, but she'd seemed to come around to him, and she sure as shit wasn't afraid to (attempt to) put him in his place.

With a smug look, he stretched his leg out under the table, intentionally brushing hers, before hooking it around her calf and bending his knee a bit to give her a little squeeze. Her eyes shot open as she stared at him for a second, cheeks blushing. Well, he figured, he might get something outta her—a meal and some light provocative gestures ought to do the trick. Ella wasn't easy, though, but she was a little too trusting when it came to him—but only because she liked him, not in general.

"So I gotta ask," he said, leaning back in the booth. "How long have ya liked me?"

Ella felt the heat surfacing throughout her entire body. "I dunno," she answered with a shrug. "A while, I guess. Since February or something like that."

Jesus Christ, he thought, Two-Bit hadn't been pulling his chain when he'd pointed it out all those months back. Hell, he'd never paid enough attention to Ella Mitchell, or her feelings, or hardly any little thing about her. Sure, he noticed the bigger things, the ones that stood out, but he would have never guessed that she liked him for . . . six months. Holy fuck. Six months? That was half a fucking year.

"Why didn't ya say somethin'?" He didn't really care, not really, but perhaps he would have . . . gotten with her. Maybe.

"You were with Cherie Peters," she admitted quietly. "And you and I weren't . . . always on good terms anyway, so . . . nothing would have become of it." She licked her lips. "I wasn't hopeful, either."

Dallas grinned at her answer. "You hopeful now, sweets?"

Ella's eyes met his. "I'm honest with myself."

They ate their food while talking among each other about this and that, and Ella found that the more she spoke, the easier it was to relax herself. But she didn't dare allow herself to give in once, or to get sucked into Dallas's charms, which she knew he was trying to pull over on her. Oh, she liked him, and resisting his charm was quite a challenge, but if anything, she wasn't going to let him get what he wanted. Ella wasn't exactly a dumb girl, and she knew that Dallas wanted her in more ways than one, and she was sure that he wanted her physically more than he wanted to be with her in general.

"So," she said, wrapping her hands around her glass of soda, "what do you think of Ponyboy's book?"

"I don't," he replied in a fixed voice, scowling a little. And then he nodded toward her plate. "You done or what?"

Ella shook her head in affirmation. "Yeah." And then she continued with her question. "So you haven't read it yet?"

"Can we drop the book?" he bit out suddenly, glaring at her. "I ain't read the ending, but I'll get to it soon, is that what you wanna hear?" When she didn't answer, only nodded, her eyes large and rounded at the gruffness in his tone, he rolled his eyes. "Let's beat it, huh?"

They were silent for the most part on the ride back to her house, and Ella felt bad that she had brought up Ponyboy's book, but how was she supposed to know Dallas would react like he had? She had a feeling that the book would stir up some unexpected emotions in him, but she hadn't expected him to get rough with her. With a sigh, her shoulders slumped as they pulled up in front of her property, an anxious look written on her face as Dallas put the car in park. Her eyes drifted toward the clock, and she figured her mother wouldn't be home for another two hours or so—it was only twelve anyway.

"Well," she said, voice seeming louder to her ears than what it was, "I had fun tonight."

Dallas nodded. "Yeah."

"I'll see you around, then," she replied when he didn't bother to say anything else, but before she could make it out of the car, his arm was wrapped around hers, and she was being tugged back inside, the door closing once again. "Dal—"

His lips were on hers in one fluid motion, and her body instantly relaxed. Oh, this was bad, she yelled at herself, so, so bad, but it was so, so good, too. She responded just as eagerly, just as hungrily, hands weaving themselves into his unkempt white-blond hair. It was soft against her skin, and she let her fingers run through it, a motion she had only done in her wildest dreams. All of her senses were heightened tenfold, and the feeling of Dallas's tongue moving against her own and inside of her mouth was enthralling. She thought she might have went limp completely from all of the feelings radiating throughout her body, but Dallas's hand supporting the back of her head was holding her in place.

When he pulled back, he cat-grinned at her, taking in her flushed face and swollen lips. "See ya later, Ella," he said, letting her go altogether.

She nodded, dropping her hands and breathing in and out slowly as she climbed out of the car, her lips still slightly parted as she stepped out into the Summer night air. "Goodnight, Dallas . . ."

Her heart was beating twice as hard, everything amplified around her.

"She must be somethin' awfully special if you're pursuing her," Tim said, sucking on a cigarette, a glint of humor in his blue orbs. "I thought Cherie Peters was more your speed."

Dallas snickered, but his own expression was less friendly. "I only kept Cherie around for kicks, and besides, that broad kept following me around with her tail between her legs offering it up like free candy." A shrug. "Who was I to say no to that?"

Tim smirked. "But Ella Mitchell? What do you want with her?"

"I don't," came the blunt response. "She's entertaining."

Truthfully, Dallas hadn't been able to get Ella off his mind for the past week almost, and remembering their date only last night, he wasn't sure what he really wanted from her anymore. Sure, he had been fancying the idea of getting into her panties, but she was proving to be a bit more difficult than what he originally assumed. Hell, it was easy to get her going once his tongue was in her mouth, but there was some form of reluctance on her end, as if she were afraid to really let loose. The blond-headed hood wasn't stupid, though, and he knew that Ella was too nervous and uptight to let herself go around him—he wouldn't hesitate to encourage her more if she ever did. But Ella wasn't like that, and even though his interest solely rested in how far he could get her in the sack, he . . . somewhat respected her, not much, but there was some form of it below the surface, buried deep, deep down.

"Yeah, sure," Tim replied, tossing his finished cigarette into the garbage bin. "Entertaining for how long?" He shook his head, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the wall separating the living room and kitchen of his house. "I heard you sent Curly running 'cause he was moving in on your territory, or so he says."

The younger hood rolled his eyes. "Maybe she is my territory now." A sly grin stretched about his lips slowly as he twirled the ring he'd rolled from a drunk senior around his finger. "Just gotta give her this and she's no longer free game." His bottom lip curled back. "I like a good challenge anyway, so you can tell Curly to get a broad his own age."

Tim didn't really give two shits about any of Dallas's girls, or what he did in his personal affairs, but hearing about him pursuing Ella Mitchell because he thought she was a challenge was fascinating, and quite humorous, if he was being honest with himself, which he was. He didn't think all that much of Ella Mitchell—she was a strange one, that girl—and from what he'd heard from Angela, she wasn't that much fun, either, so whatever Dallas saw in her must've been something real interesting. Tim didn't care, though—it was just a riot getting under the blond's skin and taking jabs at him. Nah, he didn't really care about Ella Mitchell, or Curly's misshape with Dallas, either. As far as he was concerned, it was all just entertainment to him, and he had no qualms with sitting back and enjoying the show.

But he had other business to attend to, business by the name of Daxon Jones, which was his initial reason for asking Dallas to stop by. He'd surely taken his sweet ass time, though, but it wasn't like it really mattered all that much. He'd already spoken to Daxon Jones about Dusty Lewis and all that jazz, only to find that he was still in the same predicament as before. Nobody knew where this kid came from or who he was working for, but Tim still had a beef with Jones for his boys selling dope on his turf—and he hadn't forgotten about it, either, nor had he forgotten about his boy Chris Marmo going after his sister.

"Well you have fun with your new challenge," he said, dropping onto the worn out couch. "Right now, we got other shit to deal with."

Dallas grinned lethally. "I'm all ears."

Sunday afternoons at the diner were always an enjoyment, but this particular Sunday, Ella could hardly enjoy her friend's company because her thoughts were too invested in her date the night before. Hell, she'd woken up with a smile plastered on her face, and for a while, she felt like she'd dreamed the entire thing—that is until Evie had called her up wanting to know the "dirty details", as she had called them, and by golly had Ella's face turned every shade of red in a matter of seconds. So Evie had decided that they should meet up for brunch at the diner on the nicer side of town to talk, and so far, only Evie was doing any sort of talking, for Ella was lost in a world of daydreams and bliss.

"Ella!" Evie snapped at her, balling a napkin and tossing it at her face. "I'm talkin' to ya here."

The brown-haired girl's eyes shot open, her gaze clearing up as she met the stubborn look of Evie. "I'm sorry," she mumbled out, and shook her head. "I was—"

"Yeah, yeah," the brunette said coolly, rolling her eyes. "Daydreamin' over Dallas Winston, good Lord. What? Does he got a magic beef stick nobody knows about or somethin'?"

Ella's face went stark red. "I wouldn't know," she answered. "But he kisses real nice."

Evie wanted to slam her head on the table. Oh, sure, it was wonderful seeing Ella happy again after the majority of her Summer had been spent in sheer misery over worrying about her mother, but hearing about Dallas Winston was getting quite annoying—not that Evie wanted to admit that aloud. Hell, she respected Ella's feelings for the notorious hoodlum, but she didn't like them. But Ella had been rather happy for the past week, and Evie had no intentions of destroying her good mood.

"Alright, alright," she replied, thinking of how she could tell Ella stories about how good Steve was in other areas of anatomy. "So, you had fun, then?" At her friend's eager nod, she continued. "That's great to hear, but what's next? Did he ask you out again, or—"

"No," she answered, clearly dismayed. "I mean, we left the movie early because it wasn't any good, so we went to that diner downtown and talked for a while, which was nice and all, but I don't know, Evie, I hope he doesn't . . . just want me for a cheap thrill."

The younger teen nodded thoughtfully. "So don't let his junior near your cave of wonders and you'll be just fine." She cocked an eyebrow. "Hell, I didn't let Steve pop the cork until . . . well, it was quite a ways into our relationship—few months or so, easy. But I wanted things to be somewhat right between us."

Ella looked shocked at her friend for her bluntness, but truthfully, she was feeling nervous. Evie was more open and honest where she was more reserved and quiet, and just the thought of being with Dallas that way was . . . nerve-wracking. She didn't want to think about that, but she wasn't sure how to explain to Evie that she was . . . afraid(?) to do the deed. Evie wouldn't laugh at her, she knew that, but it was embarrassing—humiliating, even—to admit such a thing, or so she believed. Fortunately for her, though, her savior came in the form of Bridget Stevens, Two-Bit's love interest of the Summer, as she entered the diner a moment later.

Ella hadn't really seen the girl all that much since last October after the homecoming dance, and just seeing her then made her feel like a wave of nostalgia washed over her, and judging from Evie's expression, she had felt the same way. Bridget hadn't noticed them right away, instead making her way inside, green eyes scanning the area for somebody she was meeting. But when her gaze met Ella's across the room, the older girl offered her a tiny wave, unsure of how she would react. Bridget smiled, offering a wave back as she made her way over to where she and Evie were seated.

"I wasn't sure that was you at first," Bridget said once she was close enough to their booth. Her eyes trailed over Ella's straightened locks. "You look fantastic!" She nodded to Evie. "It's great seeing you both!"

Ella smiled back. "Thanks, you look great, too." She glanced at Evie as she greeted their old friend and former "business partner", before she continued. "Are you meeting someone? Or would you like to join us for brunch?"

Bridget's cheeks tinted ever so little. "Well, I am meeting someone, but I guess he's not here yet, so yeah, I'd love to join you guys." She plopped down beside Ella so that she could face the door, and Evie noticed the anxious look on her face.

"You waitin' for Two-Bit Mathews, Stevens?" she asked, wiggling her brows a little. It wasn't exactly a secret that the two of them were testing the waters of their relationship. "You're lookin' awfully red over there."

Bridget flushed. "I am, actually." And then she frowned. "He said he would be here, but you know how Two-Bit is . . . never on time."

Evie chuckled, picking at her scrambled eggs. "Well, all them boys are just the same." She nodded in Ella's direction. "We were actually just discussing this one's date last night . . . with Dallas Winston."

Bridget's eyes nearly popped as she looked at Ella quickly. "Dallas?" she repeated, worry in her voice. "As in—"

"Yeah," Evie said. "As in Dallas Winston, the Dallas Winston."

The black-haired girl tried to conceal the shock on her face. "Well, that's nice," she said, trying to be polite. "How was it?"

It was Ella's turn to flush. "It was nice. We had fun."

Bridget nodded slowly, still trying to digest the fact that Ella Mitchell had gone on a date with Dallas Winston. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, but she would have never imagined Ella being the type of girl to go with a guy like Dallas, but then again, it had been quite a while since they'd last really seen or spoke to each other, and a lot could happen in that time span. It occurred to Bridget that she didn't know these girls any better than they knew her, for they had all changed. She briefly wondered how Cathy was doing, but rumor had it that she had gone back to Graves, so she and Evie wouldn't be seeing her this upcoming school year. Ella had graduated, but it would have been nice seeing her, too.

"Well, I'm happy for you," she decided to say.

The trio talked for the next several minutes, catching up on how they were doing, what was happening in their lives, and all of that jazz. Evie found that she really admired Bridget Stevens, even more than she had after the homecoming catastrophe last October. Bridget was still a Soc, but she didn't make it an exact secret that she was seeing Two-Bit Mathews, and Ella, well, she had to be either incredibly courageous, or downright stupid, and Evie knew it wasn't the latter. But here they were, Ella and Bridget, seated across from her, both girls in a similar situation—seeing guys that were far different than either of them.

Yeah, Evie thought to herself, maybe they were all still different on the outside, but they were all still the same on the inside, too.

Ponyboy wasn't exactly accustomed to seeing Soda looking so miserable, as he was always the happy-go-lucky of the bunch, so seeing him laying back on their shared bed with a blank expression veiling his face, eyes focused on the ceiling, he knew that something was up. Usually, Soda would be going on, talking about Mary by then, especially since she visited him at Giberson's Auto both Saturday and Sunday afternoons, but he was particularly quiet this evening, and he had been ever since he came home from work only two hours before.

"Hey," Ponyboy greeted, taking a seat at his brother's desk. "You okay?"

The golden-haired teen placed his hands behind his head. "Oh, yeah, just peachy, Ponyboy." A sigh fell from his lips. "I just don't know what to do . . ."

"About what?" came the expected inquiry, and Pony's brows pressed together as he stared at his older brother with a look of perplexity.

Soda was silent for a minute before answering. "Well, about Mary. Steve don't exactly like her, and it's no secret that you ain't real fond of her, and I think . . . well, I think her aunt is tryin' to keep her and me away from each other, Ponyboy, and—" He threw his work hat across the room, rubbing his hands over his face, clearly frustrated. "I just can't stand it!"

The younger teen frowned. "Why would her aunt do that?" But he already knew the answer to his own question, for he and Darry had already heard from Soda that Mary's aunt didn't "accept" him because of his social status. "And that ain't true," he pointed out quickly. "I . . . I mean, I wasn't fond of her in the beginning, but I think she's awfully nice, Soda."

Soda tried to grin, but it only came out as a grimace. "Her aunt don't like me, and I kinda knew that the first time I met her, but Mary . . ." He licked his lips, eyes a little glassy. "Hell, Pony, I like her, I really like her, and I just wanna spend time with her, ya know what I'm sayin', man?"

A nod. "Yeah, I know what you're sayin', Sodapop."

"It ain't like how it was with Sandy." He'd said his former girlfriend's name so casually that Ponyboy had to do a double take at him. Soda hadn't been able to so much as brush over Sandy's name without flinching just a little, and Ponyboy had no doubt that his brother was officially over her. Mary had done that, he reckoned, and perhaps that was a good thing, but Ponyboy was scared—and he figured that Steve was, too—that Soda was going to fall too quickly for Mary and end up getting hurt, but before he could say anything, Soda was already continuing on. "And you don't gotta lie to me, Pony, I know you're just getting along with her for me."

The younger teen made a face, and he decided that he needed to be honest. "In the beginning I felt that way, Soda. I didn't really like Mary, but it ain't like that no more, honest." He offered him a genuine grin. "We get along just fine now, and heck, I even promised her that I would let her read my book once Dally's done with it . . . whenever that'll be."

Soda's lips curved up a little. "You talk to Mr. Franklin yet?"

"No," he answered with a frown. "Darry's been askin' me about that, too. I suppose I should give him a call and let him know that I'm still filling out the consent form . . . that way he don't think I'm just blowing this whole thing off."

"Yeah," Soda agreed, nodding along. And then he sat up, looking at his brother. "By the way, have you heard about Ella?"

Ponyboy made a face, unsure of what his brother was referring to. "What do you mean?"

"Well, about her and Dally," he responded, placing his elbow on his knees. "They're seein' each other, went on a date last night an' all."

"Where'd you hear that?"

Soda shrugged. "Steve told me. Evie said Ella told her that Dally asked her out, and they were gonna go out last night." He pursed his lips. "Figured you woulda heard by now, but I wasn't sure."

"No," Pony replied, feeling glum. "I didn't know that."

Truthfully, the news had come as a shock to him, and he wasn't sure what to think about Ella going out with Dally Winston. Then again, he hadn't spoken to Ella in some time, and he knew that she had been busy with work and all, but he was surprised to learn that she had squeezed in time like that for Dallas when he had never been anything but harsh to her. But he remembered Ella's feelings for the towheaded hood as well, and a sinking feeling filled his gut as he considered them together. Of course, he would always respect Ella's feelings, but he couldn't believe she could be so . . . dumb.

It seemed that everyone was having their sublime Summer romances, though. Soda and Mary, Steve and Evie, Two-Bit and Bridget, and Dallas and Ella. Yeah, everyone except for him and Darry. But Darry was too busy to date anyone, and he wasn't exactly looking to involve himself with a girl just then, so he figured that everyone was making out okay. He wasn't sure how he felt about Ella and Dallas being together, and he sure hoped it didn't go that far. Ella was a nice and decent girl, and Dally would do nothing but get her into trouble, get her mixed up in his lifestyle and messed up way of living. He wondered if he ought to try and talk to her, but he knew it wasn't his place, and he valued Ella's friendship, so he decided not to get involved with her . . . romantic life.

With a shake of his head, he stood up, nodding once to Soda. Dinner wasn't gonna make itself, and with Darry getting called into work that afternoon, he didn't want him to walk in without a cooked meal and have to fend for himself.

"Wanna help me cook up some grub?"

Soda grinned, easing his thoughts for a while. Besides, food sounded fantastic. "Sure, kiddo."

Gonna be sublime

So so sublime

Feel your love all over me

Can't stop thinking we could be sublime

And there is chapter fourteen, y'all! Thank you for all of the support and feedback! :3