The nerves start deep in my stomach and then spread through the rest of my body with a tingle. It is one thing to be with Ponyboy. I have spent almost every free moment with him this summer – learning his quirks, admiring his kindness, and falling for him a little more each time he said my name. I could spend countless hours with Pony and still feel like it was the first time I have ever had a moment with him alone. He has a knack to make me feel special, like I was also the one person he looked forward to seeing daily.

Despite all this, the idea of being vulnerable or intimate with him was something else entirely. I had not even considered the idea until I imagined what it would be like to have Ponyboy at night, alone, in my empty house. It almost feels like too much to bear.

The butterflies flap wildly while I run back up the stairs, flipping on all the lights in my bedroom to find my hairbrush. The loose ringlets I had set for the dance were now a knotty mess atop my head and I pull the snarls out quickly, while picking up the dirty clothes on my floor to throw into my closet, slamming the door shut behind me. I turn slowly around the room, still brushing the tangles from my hair, while I double, then triple check that nothing embarrassing is hanging out for Ponyboy to see.

Once I am satisfied with my room, I check myself in the mirror, only to gasp in some surprise. Usually, I liked to sleep in a large t-shirt and shorts, but now, staring in the mirror, I have never seen something so unflattering in my entire life. I look like a twelve-year-old Two-Bit. Quickly removing the t-shirt and stumbling over to my pajama drawer, I grab the only other thing I have, a silk pajama set my mother bought me for my sixteenth birthday, almost two years ago. I sigh, slipping it over my head and turning to face the mirror, it isn't the worst, but makes me feel even more nervous by completely throwing me out of my comfort zone. Catching my reflection in the mirror, one last time before Ponyboy knocks softly on the front door, I suck in a deep breath and carefully make my way back down the stairs.

It's a surreal moment, sitting curled up on my couch next to Ponyboy. He has his injured hand carefully wrapped and resting on the back armrest of the couch, his legs stretched out to the ottoman, and his free hand resting carefully on the top of my head, mindlessly playing with my hair as we watch the movie. I lay with my head carefully in his lap, stretched out across the rest of the couch, cuddled in my blanket. I am so nervous to be this close to him, this intimate, that I can barely focus on the movie. Each time he breathes or shifts slightly I am more and more aware to how close we really are. I wonder if he feels the nerves too – if his stomach explodes with butterflies each time, I turn over to look at him, if he licks his lips nervously whenever his hand gently touches the bare skin on my shoulder, if his own heart beats rapidly against his chest like my own.

For a moment I wonder if he ever considered what it would feel like to be here with me. If he pictured us intimate in the back of his mind whenever he lulled off to sleep. If he imagined what I looked like out of my clothes whenever his eyes carefully traced down my body whenever he thought, I wouldn't notice. I know at times I thought of him this way, but never imagined what that moment would look like had it finally presented itself.

"Nellie," his voice is quiet, breaking up the soft music from the end credits of the movie. "Are you asleep?" His hand lightly brushes over my hair once more and this time I turn to look up at him, smiling when he leans over to press multiple kisses on the side of my face.

"No," I giggle, trying to push him away, "I wasn't sleeping."

"Did you enjoy the movie?" He asks and I shrug my shoulders. He lifts an eyebrow at me, and I sit up to face him. The blanket drops and I am highly aware of how exposed I feel, sitting here in a silk tank-top in front of Ponyboy. I watch as his eyes trail up the length of my body, pausing briefly on the low dip of my shift, before meeting my eyes once more. I swallow nervously and find that a small blush has settled on his face.

"I – I wasn't really paying attention," I tell him as I drop my own eyes from his, coming to a rest on his hands, now folded carefully in his lap. The silence feels excruciating as I wait for him to say anything at all. When I lift my eyes to his face, I find that he is still intently watching me, this time licking his lips nervously when our eyes meet once more.

"What were you thinking about?" He asks, leaning closer towards me.

My mind rushes with a million things. I want to tell him that all I can think of is him. What he feels like against me. The way his breath sounds when I'm lying on his chest. How aware I am of his body each time he moves or touches me gently. I want to tell him all of these things and it takes a moment for me to find my voice. It takes even longer for me to determine the words I want to use. But looking into his eyes, feeling his warm hands now gently holding onto my own, I know exactly how I want to answer.

"You." I tell him, shocked by the firmness in my own voice, "I haven't stopped thinking of you."

This comment seems to surprise Ponyboy, but he doesn't shift away from me. If anything, I notice some of the excitement in his breath as he licks his lips to look at me one more time. I watch as he swallows nervously, his Adam's apple rolling down his neck. He doesn't say anything and for a moment I'm worried that I have overstepped some unspoken boundary between us, but instead his hands gently cradle my face as he pushes me backwards onto the couch. He leans over me, his face only inches from mine.

"Are you sure?" He breathes, keeping himself steady before I nod my head in eager agreement. He plants kisses down my jawline, taking a moment to rest his lips on the warm spot of my neck and I wonder if he can feel my pulse reverberating through my skin. I suck in a sharp breath a sharp breath when one of his hands trails down my body, feeling my curves through the thin fabric of my clothes. His hands rests on my hip, slipping under the fabric of my tank top and sending bolts of electricity through my body as his hand explores my skin.

I run my hands through his hair and lift myself closer to him in a desperate attempt to keep him from stopping.

At some point, we end up in my bed, the lights off and only one warm candle to keep the room glowing. Our hands explore places previously uncharted, bare skin against bare skin, the heat and excitement radiating from us the farther we explore, until finally I feel ready to accept him.

"Are you sure?" He asks once more, his lips just hovering over mine. In a moment of clarity, I take a deep breath, suddenly so scared of what this next step meant for me – or us. Was I sure?

I lick my lips and trace his jaw line with my free hand, but it's when he presses his forehead against mine and suddenly, I feel silly for even questioning myself in this moment. I am sure – more than I have ever been for anything. With a small nod of my head, Ponyboy kisses me longingly and I let him take me.


I wake up startled, the screen door slamming shut as my brother loudly calls up the steps about a pancake breakfast. I lay there for a moment, catching my breath before sitting up in fear. The other side of my bed, where Ponyboy slept beside me is empty, there isn't even a dent in the pillows and for a moment I worry that last night wasn't real. I take a moment and trail my lips with my fingers, picturing how gentle he was with me the entire night. Of course, last night was real.

I used to imagine how it would be to fully be with a boy. I pictured it like the movies or the books that filled the shelves in my bedroom– sensual, romantic, and perfect.

It wasn't anything like the movies or books. In fact, it was scary – almost painful to fully allow a person to see you completely. I can remember awkward touches, painful embraces, but had it been with anyone else I don't think I could have gone through with it. The night might not have been perfect, but Ponyboy was. He took his time, allowed me to feel comfortable, and always asked – wanted to know that I was okay. I lift myself from my bed, feeling almost hungover from the night.

"Nellie!" Two-Bit calls from the base of the stairs, "Pancakes! Let's go!"

My brother's voice brings me back to reality and I scurry over to the window to find that Ponyboy's truck is gone. I sigh, thankful that he had somehow managed to miss my brothers return. I am about to call back down the stairs to Two-Bit demanding blueberry pancakes, when I notice a carefully folded piece of paper and a thick silver ring on my vanity. I carefully turn the ring over a few times in my hands, studying it carefully, taking note of the small dents in its frame. The band is thick and too big for my fingers, but I grasp onto it tightly – knowing why it was left behind for me to find. The note is scribbled on the back of an old clothing tag, just above the price sticker, in Ponyboy's careful handwriting it reads.

It's yours. I'm yours. – PC

I suck in a deep breath and carefully sit back down on my bed. Yours. The word feels entirely new to me. Before right now, I had never considered that Ponyboy wasn't officially anything. He was just a person I adored to be with, to talk to, to just exist with entirely. He wasn't anything, but somehow had managed to be everything at the same time. I blush deeply, realizing what this meant as I turn his ring carefully between my fingers. As cheesy as it sounded and as much as I loved to pretend labels meant nothing to me – I am Ponyboy Curtis' girlfriend. I press my hand over my mouth to contain the squeal from alerting my brother and flop backwards onto my bed, clasping the ring tightly over my heart.

Mine.


A/N: Two chapters in one weekend? Almost unheard of around here. As always, reviews are so appreciated!