This chapter is dedicated to LiveOnTheEdge, whose review really inspired me to continue the story. Thank you so much for the support.
I was hoping he would turn and walk away; maybe he already hated me. But he kept looking at me, he wouldn't take his eyes off me. It was only the first day of September, but I was already shivering.
Oh no. He was walking towards me. No. No. No. Fifteen feet away. Ten feet. Five feet.
I braced myself for whatever he would say. I wouldn't fall, I wouldn't give in. This is the way it had to be. I was strong.
Until he spoke.
"Angel…"
"Please don't make this any harder, Ponyboy."
It was a few seconds before he replied. "Its already too hard."
I couldn't say anything. He looked so sad, I wish he would stop looking at me. I wish he would tell me to fuck off, to tell me he never wanted to see me again. I hated that look in his eyes. He looked so hurt, and I hated the fact that it was my fault. But I'm doing the right thing, I know I am.
I knew my face was turning red and my eyes were starting to water. I hated myself for it; I wanted him to think that he was just some passing summer fling, I didn't want him to know that he was the only person besides Tim or Curly that I ever felt love for. I wanted him to hate me. But I know he couldn't; he wouldn't.
It had been over two months since that night. That night at the playground where he kissed me and I knew. I knew that he loved me; that he would take care of me and would make sure I was never hurt.
I still know that now.
I'll never forget that first night we were together. We lay in my bed afterward, laying awake until the hour when he had to go home to meet his curfew. That was my second night back in my mother's house; Tim had been arrested that day, so I could no longer stay in his apartment. My mother and her boyfriend were out drinking; they wouldn't be home until early morning. Ponyboy and I lay there, with the only light in the room coming from the street lamp filtering in through the window. I lay there for hours, pressed up against his bare chest, wishing he'd never have to leave. I must have dozed off for a few minutes, because when I woke he was walking around the small room, half dressed, looking for the remainder of his clothing.
When he found it, he came back and laid down next to me. He waited ten minutes before kissing me on the forehead and climbing out my window. I stayed awake that night, and I don't think I stopped smiling for hours.
What I wouldn't give to go back to that moment. When his eyes were happy, not pleading like they were now.
I hated lying to him. But he could never know the truth.
"Ponyboy, its just not possible. It would never have worked, and there's no point in wasting our time in trying. Just forget about me, will you? Its over."
I turned and walked in the direction I had came. I didn't have to turn around to know the hurt look on his face. My face burned; I hated crying. I wanted to run back, run back to him, kiss him, have him hold me, tell him how sorry I was, have him take me back and love me again. I wanted this child inside of me to evaporate, to go away as quickly as it had come, to never bother me again. How could something that brings some people so much joy cause me so much pain?
I wish he would run after me; that he would chase me down and tell me that he wouldn't take no for an answer; that I was his, and he wouldn't have anyone else.
He always knew when I needed him.
I heard his feet hitting the pavement behind me.
I shouldn't have done this. I made it worse, even worse than before if possible.
He was asleep next to me, breathing gently while I laid awake. I shouldn't have felt this calm; I should have been panicking, but I couldn't help feeling safe when he held me.
I liked his house best; it didn't have the memories that mine had. His brothers were working during the day, and we spent countless lazy afternoons, half dressed; talking, sleeping and making love over the past two months.
I told him things that I've never told anyone. I told him about my brief memories of my father, which only consist of him trying to teach me how to cheat at cards. I told him about the night that Frank got drunk and so violent that I crouched under the bushes in the neighbor's yard all night, waiting for Tim to find me. I told him about the first time Tim was arrested; Curly bawled as they put him in handcuffs.
I don't know what he would say if I told him about the baby. It would ruin all his plans; his school, his career, all his dreams.
His brothers would curse me as a tricky whore who trapped him into marriage. They would say it wasn't his; I was just pinning him down because he was a responsible person.
I can't blame them. I can see how the world sees me, and I wouldn't believe myself either.
They had been nice to me; they had treated me well out of respect for Ponyboy. But I knew they were worried; they prayed that he would get over me and move on. They loved him so much; they knew he could do better. I knew he could do better.
I still don't know why he chose me. He could have any girl in the East Side, and could probably even get a soc if he tried. But instead he chose the girl with the worst reputation; the hardest one to love, and yet he loved me. He disregarded the advice of his brothers, of Randle, of Matthews, hell, I think even Curly told him to be careful.
He really loved me. And I was still planning on breaking his heart.
But he would recover, I know he will. He'll get over it, and this will become some memory that he thinks about every once and a while. A summer fling before he went off to college and met his future wife. I bet she'll be a goddamn virgin from Connecticut whose interested in politics and the environment.
He'll never know it, but it's the best thing I could ever do for him.
He would use me to advise his son not to get involved with the town whore, to warn him that all they can do is hurt you.
"What are you thinking about?" His eyes were still closed, I wondered how long he had been lying there awake.
"The future."
"The future as in tomorrow, or as in twenty years from now?"
"Both."
He was silent for a few minutes, before saying what I was dreading. "You know we're gonna have to talk about this at some point."
"Ponyboy, this was the last time. I shouldn't have even done this, and it can't happen again."
He didn't answer at first, but he finally opened his eyes.
"No, Angel."
