Chapter five.
R&R, please.
I do not own The Outsiders.
Thank you very much to Friday913 for the name "Friday Rae Ida."
-
"What the HELL, Evie!? What was—what was—" Steve's eyes hovered over Evie's, glowering. He was beyond words, so he just stared at her, not breaking the glare even when he grabbed a fistful of napkins from the countertop.
Lisa had fallen back into the booth once the water had touched her chest. Now she was shivering, but lightly. That made Steve wonder how iceless water could be so…well…icy.
Evie did not answer Steve's furious words, but instead turned around on those heels of hers and strode off. She didn't seem to be admiring her act, though she wasn't entirely guilty-looking, either. Steve didn't know what to feel towards that—whether he be angry or slightly relieved.
"Hey…uh…" the greaser leaned down beside his date. "You all right?"
Lisa nodded her head, her cheeks dangerously red-toned. She answered slowly as she wiped the water off herself, treating every word as if it were its own sentence.
"Who…was that…girl?" she grumbled.
"My ex-girlfriend," Steve muttered, tossing the soiled napkins into the wastepaper basket. He studied his date for a few noiseless moments, then stood up as she completed her cleanup.
"You ready to go?" he questioned, and Lisa smiled meekly and shrugged.
"Yeah. Let's go—I need to get home, anyway. I have a curfew…" she mumbled, blowing an annoyingly loose piece of hair from her eyes. Steve grinned as it refused to obey and tucked it behind her ear. Lisa returned his grin at the gesture.
"Thank you," she said, shoes click, click, clicking as she paced towards the exit. Steve went after her, following beside her as she left the Dingo.
"I'll walk you home," he offered. "Where d'you live?"
"No…" Lisa shrank away delicately away from her date, smirking as he arched his eyebrows skeptically. "I just…need to stop somewhere before I go home. And…alone…." Feeling that her explanation was reasonable, Lisa started her journey away from Steve, but he grabbed her shoulder gently to cease her.
"Hold on…" he said. "Hey, uhh, I was just wonderin'…I mean, if you're up for it—"
Lisa held up a manicured nail to Steve's lips, signaling him to be quiet. He only stared, waiting for her to take charge of the sentence.
"Yes, Steve, I'll be your girlfriend," she accepted. Steve's eyes widened somewhat, surprised that she'd known what his mind was cooking up.
Lisa removed her finger from his lips and giggled, that cute little chuckle Steve had grown accustomed to when Two-Bit first set them up. Then she leaned forward slowly, relishing the excited glint in Steve's eyes. When she finally kissed him it was sweet; gentle and innocent. It only lasted a couple of moments, but Steve savored every millisecond of the pleasurable affair—and when his girlfriend pulled away, they were both grinning.
-
"Aww, come on, Sodapop, quit bein' a baby and talk to me," Steve pleaded. The evening before had come and gone pleasantly, and it was now early morning. Soda and Steve hadn't walked or driven to work together, and they weren't working too well side-by-side, either.
"Soda…come on, buddy," Steve continued quietly, nudging his best friend in the shoulder as he passed coins out to customers in need of change.
"Steve, why dontcha go on out and fix a car, all right?" Soda said sorely, turning his eyes downcast from his hotheaded buddy. Steve gave a sort of mild flinch at his response. Soda had always been more of the forgiving kind, so he must've been awful upset when he'd been shouted at….
"Soda, would you just forgive me and—"
"Fine," Soda said abruptly, staring Steve in the eyes again. "I'm expectin' an apology, then," he commented, though Steve could only glare. Apologize? Soda had been the one who started it all—he was the one who kept stealing away Steve's potential girls. And whether it be accidental or intentional, Soda still enjoyed every moment of his flirtatious attention.
"I'll apologize when hell freezes over," Steve spat, watching guiltily as a trace of pain flickered beneath Soda's irises.
"Have it your way…" he murmured, exiting the convenience store. This time, Steve didn't chase nor call after him. He had an aching feeling he'd crossed the line with that hell freezes over remark.
To possibly ease some of his fury, Steve worked on a car that had been dropped off in the previous hour. It wouldn't start, the bumper was wrecked—falling half-off, while the metal of the car was shattered in some places. The tires could use changing, too.
Once Steve set his car-savvy mind to work, it indulged most of his time. He kneeled down under the hood, fiddling with the complex insides. But in between his work, someone shouted a greeting.
"Hello!"
Steve flinched, slamming his forehead on the top of the hood. He winced, rubbing the pulsing bruise on his skull.
"What the hell?" he grumbled, glaring at the female who had caused him to injure his scalp.
"Hi!" she chirped. A petite, sepia-haired, brown-eyed girl was standing before him. She was cute enough, though Steve was still irritated with her.
"Hi…" he mumbled, returning to his work. "Whadda want?"
"Oh, that's my car you're workin' on. It's not done yet?" she questioned cutely, circling the car's angles.
Steve eyed the girl disbelievingly.
"Ain't you a little young to drive?"
The unidentified girl gasped a little, as though offended.
"I'm fifteen-going-on-sixteen, thank you very much," she clarified, patting the hood of the car. "You know, I'm pretty good with cars, too."
Steve laughed aloud, staring amusedly at the ruined bumper.
"I can see that—what'd you do to this thing, anyway?"
"Crashed into a wall," the girl answered. She cocked one single eyebrow, which vaguely reminded Steve of Two-Bit. "Right on the highway, too."
Steve emerged from under the hood of the vehicle, pummeling the broad with an array of questions.
"How the hell did you crash into a wall on the highway?"
"Well, there was this six-wheeler truck—"
Steve held his palm up at the girl, silencing her.
"Never mind. What's your name, kid?"
"Friday Rae Ida," the chick answered musically, singing her name.
"Friday?—your initials spell Fri, you know," Steve answered, chuckling at the coincidence.
"I'm aware," Friday commented. "My real name ain't Friday, though. It's Jean. Jean Rae Ida. But that spells Jri…and it isn't that hot of a name, anyway," she explained, still examining each angle of her vehicle. "Anyway…any idea when my car'll be finished?"
Steve stood up, wiping the motor oil from his hands onto his jeans and slamming the hood shut.
"Should take a few days. You did a real number on your car."
"I'm sorta accident prone," Friday giggled, going noticeably red around the ears. Embarrassed now, she faced away from Steve, which amused him. "I should get going…. Places to be, you know. I'll stop by tomorrow."
With that, she left, and Steve laughed loudly once he was positive she was out of earshot. Some fifteen-year-old had a crush on him. She was pretty cute, too—but unfortunately for her, Steve had Lisa. And he intended to keep it that way.