"I don't want you driving her all over town," Darry was lecturing as he dangled the keys to his beloved and indispensable pickup in front of Soda's face. "That timing belt is on its last leg. And I hope you've got enough sense in that head to steer clear of any sort of race."
"I know, Dar," Soda said to pacify him. "We won't go far, and no racing."
"And I want you home by midnight," he demanded, because sometimes he just liked to prove that he could still tell Soda what to do.
Soda didn't mind most of the time, because it wasn't often that Darry was too unreasonable with these orders. It used to be that Darry spent most of his time worrying about Pony getting himself into some sort of trouble. After losing Dallas and Johnny, though, Pony'd gotten into the habit of staying home a lot.
Without Pony to agonize over, it seemed to Soda that he'd noticed a sudden influx in the amount of attention Darry paid to where he was and what he was doing. He knew Darry meant well, but Soda had recently begun to develop sympathies for all the times Pony had complained to him about Darry being on his case.
"I'll be home before then, even," Soda pledged snatching the keys from his brother's hand and making a mad dash for the front door.
It wasn't until he was behind the wheel of the pickup, swinging it out widely onto the street, that Soda realized his stomach felt like a bird was flapping around inside it. He'd taken June out enough times to know that next his palms would start to sweat and, once he saw her, all hell would break loose.
There was something about June that made Soda feel alive again. After Sandy had left, he'd been convinced that he'd never know an end to the heartache, and he knew he'd never feel the same way about another girl again. The second he'd laid eyes on June though, any thoughts of Sandy—or any other girl, for that matter—had slipped clean from his head. He was right, though; he didn't feel the same way about June as he did Sandy. What he felt when he was with June was at least a hundred times better--stronger.
Soda stopped the truck at the last house on Cedar Street and jumped out. June's mother didn't think it was proper for her daughter to meet a boy on the street and was adamant that Soda came to the front door. Soda didn't tell her mother that he'd happily go to China if it meant he could see June.
He took the front steps two at a time in his haste, pausing only to run his hands through his hair before ringing the doorbell. He squared his shoulders and attempted to smooth out his shirt, anticipating that June's father would answer. He heard some scuttling from behind the thick oak door, which promptly opened to reveal June's six-year-old sister.
"How's it going, Kit?" Soda grinned, stooping down to her level. He much preferred being greeted by her to either of her parents.
"I found a nickel and two pennies down the sofa," she announced proudly between licks of her red Popsicle.
"What are you gonna do with all that money?"
Kit stopped, mid-lick and looked at her frozen treat, then back at Soda and smiled widely. Soda laughed in understanding.
"Is you sister ready to go?" he asked.
A stout, grayed woman appeared in the door, her lips pursed. She tucked a loose strand of hair from her no-nonsense bun behind her ear and ushered her youngest daughter inside with orders to clean her stained face and hands.
"Good evening Mrs. Lewis," Soda always tried to mind his manners in front of June's parents, though it didn't do much to convince them of his good character.
Soda figured it was because the Lewis family might well have been considered a Socy family, if it weren't for the small matter of June's six brothers and sisters. Mr. Lewis was a banker, and busied himself with a position on the city council. He never said too much to Soda, but Soda went to great lengths to make sure to never give him a reason to have to speak to him at length.
Mrs. Lewis spent her time looking after her home and seven children. She valued morals and manners and entertained concrete ideas of how a young person should behave and present himself. Unfortunately, Soda didn't quite live up to her high expectations.
"June will be with you in just a moment." Mrs. Lewis usually reserved a polite, yet cool tone for addressing Sodapop. "I trust I don't have to remind you of her curfew, or the fact that her daddy happens to be close, personal friends with the chief of police?"
Soda shook his head and smiled winningly. "No ma'am."
At a creak in the stairs, Soda looked past the matronly woman to where June was flouncing down the last few steps. Her chestnut hair fell in loose waves at her shoulders and made Soda want to bury his face between it and her sweet, velvety neck.
"You look beautiful," Soda heard himself breathe, earning himself an audible grumble from Mrs. Lewis.
"You're looking mighty handsome yourself," June returned, not missing a beat, though she did flush a lovely shade of pink. Soda promptly matched her tinge as his eyes met hers and he was reminded of every wonderful thought he'd had of her since they'd last met.
Mrs. Lewis crossed her arms across her chest and looked over the rim of her glasses at Soda. Soda imagined she wasn't entertaining the same thoughts about him as her daughter was. He shifted, uncomfortable under her icy gaze.
"Be sure to keep this sweater on," Mrs. Lewis instructed, reaching out to fasten the button nearest her daughter's throat. "There's going to be a chill tonight."
June dutifully allowed her mother to conceal the only bit of bare skin left uncovered before planting a kiss on her deeply wrinkled cheek.
"I'll be back before curfew, Mama," June assured her mother, taking Soda's hand to lead him back down the walkway. The contact between them, though merely palms and fingertips, sent waves of tingling pleasure up Soda's arm.
He hated having to unlock his fingers from hers, even to open the door to the truck, but delighted in watching her climb into the front seat. He relished the way her shapely hips swung seductively as she did so, but made sure not to linger behind her for too long, as he was sure Mrs. Lewis was still watching vigilantly from the porch for any signs of impropriety.
Soda practically floated to the driver's side of the truck, pausing to wave merrily to the ever-observant Mrs. Lewis before pulling away from the curb. For some reason, he experienced a distinct feeling of both relief and pride every time he was allowed to leave the Lewis residence with June. Relief, because their departure meant he wouldn't have to worry about another confrontation with June's parents until their next date, and pride because he obviously hadn't loused things up too awfully yet, if she was still permitted to keep his company.
The couple had hardly rounded the corner of Cedar Street before June disregarded her mother's request and began peeling her sweater off, revealing the pair of arms Soda had dreamed of being swathed in. She shot him a playful smirk when she caught him paying more attention to her newly bared flesh than the road.
"Where are you taking me?"
She scooted closer to the middle of the bench seat (and, to his enjoyment, closer to Soda) adjusting the rear view mirror to aide in the application of her ruby lipstick.
"Your mother would loose it if she saw you with that stuff on your face," Soda reminded his pretty companion, then added gauchely, "'Sides, you don't need it."
The corners of June's cherry lips turned up, pleased by his ungainly compliment. Rummaging through her purse, she produced a handkerchief and scrubbed at her mouth with it for a moment.
"Better?" she asked, and Soda nodded with a genuine smile.
June laced her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and Soda practically took out a mailbox. Part of him hoped she'd keep her hands to herself until they were safely stopped. However, a greater, more overwhelming part of him longed to slam the truck into park right there in the middle of the street and allow his own fingers to caress her naked arms, tangle themselves in her silky mane and explore those parts of her flawless body yet unknown to him.
"Keep it up and we won't leave this truck in one piece," Soda warned, wishing for a Pepsi as his mouth had suddenly gone dry.
"You never told me where we were going," she reminded him. She'd stopped playing with his hair, but kept her place in the middle of the seat, closest to Soda. He could practically feel an electric charge between them—some mystic exchange of energy that made his head swim and his palms sweat so bad that he had trouble gripping the steering wheel. Every part of his body ached to be closer to her still. He was painfully aware of each millimeter of space between them and yearned to close it.
Soda stole a glance at her for the tenth time since they'd gotten in the truck and couldn't help but grin as he realized she was intently waiting for him to reveal their destination.
"You'll see once we get there," he teased. Usually, he wasn't any good at keeping secrets, but it was fun to watch June squirm with anticipation as she hated being kept in suspense. He loved how she first begged for him to tell her, then began shooting out guesses faster than he could refute them.
Soda happily settled back in his seat, content just to listen to her, elated to be in such close proximity to her. The pair cruised easily through town, the windows down and the warm, dry summer air stirring up June's hair and the gentle scent of rosewater with it.
Soda took a deep breath—the kind that completely fills you and makes you acutely aware of how alive you are. He wondered briefly how it was possible for one girl to cause him such grief and heartache that was only relieved by the affections of another. Another deep breath of the dusky Tulsa air, and the thrill of June's hair being blown gently across his arm only left Soda thinking, "Sandy who?"