Chapter 21

"DARRY!" I hollered the next day. "Now you really gotta lemme go! Charlie and the gang are gonna be at the rumble! You gotta lemme go, really! Come on, Pony n Soda aren't here, it'll be our secret!"

"All the more reason for you not to go. Big Red'll skin me alive. I'm not going, you're not. They're welcome whenever they can hitch a ride. But you are not going to that rumble." Darry said with finality, not looking up from his book.

I jumped on the bed, and laid on top of him. "Come onnnnn, Dare," I groaned, pressing my hands to my head and kicking my feet frantically. "Pleasepleasepleaseplease-"

"If this is a tactic for you to show me your maturity, it isn't working," he said drily. "Steve told me he thinks you're even smaller than before. Gain ten pounds, and I'll think about it."

"What the hell, Darry!" I exclaimed. "What the frackin' fuck does my size hafta do with this!"

"Smaller you are, likelier it is you'll get cracked." He told me, putting down his book and rubbing my scalp. It felt so good, not just the massage, but having him touch me.

"The bigger they are, the harder they fall," I countered.

"The law of inertia," he snapped back, like a fencer.

"Well, jeez, your heart is set, now, innit?" I asked. "But so's mines!"

He rubbed my head, silent, until I was nearly asleep. "Just can't lose you," he mumbled, pulling me up and pressing his lips to mine, fiercely. Jeez, it hurt. But it felt good. He was sitting almost upright, with a few pillows propping up his back. I sat on him, mashed myself against him, trying to get as close to him as I could. Jeez, man, I loved him. I loved how smart he was, and how strong and huge he was, and how he cared. He cared so much. It was so nice. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and I explored his chest with my hands. Jimmy'd been hairy, and I hated that. Darry was sculpted and smooth. Everything about him was just tough, hard. All I was wearing was Johnny's shirt, and he unbuttoned it, quick as he could. His warm, calloused hands rubbed my waist, and moved up to under my armpits, kneading my skin.

His hands were so big that they could probably span my waist. "You're so soft," he muttered. "Your skin is like silk." He buried his face in my neck, kissing a trail down my shoulder. I jerked involuntarily and wrapped my legs around his waist. I couldn't get close enough to him. My hands roamed his skin, desperately, and he felt feverishly hot. I gripped his arms and felt the clenched muscles of his biceps.

He must've been struggling so hard to control himself, his strength. But when we fell around and he was on top of me, I felt how enormous he was, and it drove me wild.

When we were done fooling around, he traced the long line on my leg. "How'd you get this scar?" he asked, running his finger from my thigh, down the line to my ankle.

"Socs," I answered. "Bout a year or two back. Got jumped. They shaved my head with my own damn blade too, and it hurt like a bitch. Jackhammer got outta the cooler and hunted them down. He shot them. Both of them, in the legs. I heard they still walk with a hobble."

"Jackhammer, is he an alright guy?" he questioned, worriedly.

"He's real good. He's hard, for sure, and usually gets thrown into the cooler for months at a time, but he's real loyal, real responsible, and takes care of his own. Kinda reminds me of what you'd be, without all your stress."

"I have to worry," he stressed, rolling onto his back. "What if it takes me longer to heal? I know it's just a sprain, but we can't afford this. You gotta go to school, Pony's gotta get the grades—" I kissed him.

"Come on, Dare. I paid all the bills. Electricity, water, mortgage, everything that came in the mail. Relax, this is the first vacation you've had since you got your brothers, innit?"

He sighed. "Yeah. And it's horrible. I'm bored all day. The only one who swings by is Two-Bit."

I laughed. "That's not a bad thing!"

"It's a tragedy!" he laughed back, his eyes dancing. "Every time he comes in, he makes some crack about 'bein' invited to the abode' and some sex crack."

"It's funny because he isn't getting any," I smirked, and he roared with laughter. "But I guess that means he aint comin' to school at all now." I sobered up real quick at the realization.

"He's always shitfaced. Constantly." Darry said seriously. "I'm worried about him. He could stop if he wanted, but he doesn't wanna."

"I think it's Johnny," I said soberly. "He's haunted."

"Well, shit." Darrel Curtis said sadly. "I think we all are."