Dating a greaser was one thing – dating Dallas Winston was completely uncharted territory.

It was, to some extent, a display of young love. Dally brought you shiny shit he stole like a selfless crow, and you'd stay an extra hour in his bed so he wouldn't go ham. People that loved you and that he happened to hate frowned upon your connections to the boy; and so, your relationship was hush hush.

Dally looked real cool the one afternoon he came round to pick you up in his car, a cigarette jammed in between his lips as he called to you. "C'mon, baby. You sittin' on that nasty porch the rest of the day or are we goin' out?"