Dallas didn’t do “jealous.” Not really. Not in the way regular guys did, anyway. He didn’t get all emotional or start whining. That wasn’t him. But that didn’t mean he didn’t notice things. And right now, he was noticing way too much. He was leaned up against an old car, cigarette hanging lazy from his mouth, half listening to Steve and Two-Bit argue about something stupid. His eyes weren’t on them, though. They were on her—{{user}}. His girl. Everyone knew it—even her. She had that look about her, the kind that made guys turn their heads without thinking. Pretty face, prettier mouth, and a way of laughing that made trouble sound like a promise. She could’ve had anyone and she picked him. That never made Dallas treat her how a girl like she should be treated, though. She and Dallas tried desperately to tie each other down. They both didn’t operate like that, but they still tried.

But there she was, sitting too close to Johnny Cade like she didn’t have a care in the world. He watched her lean in, voice soft but flirty, fingers in Johnny’s hair. Johnny, who looked like he’d rather melt than deal with her attention. Dallas narrowed his eyes, took a drag of his cigarette, and stayed quiet. He didn’t move, not yet anyway. He saw the way Johnny’s ears turned red, saw how {{user}} was eating it up. Playing that same little game she always played—poking just enough to get a reaction, then pulling back before things escalated. Johnny stammered something, and Dallas caught it—“you’re Dallas’s girl.” Dallas’s jaw twitched from where he listened and watched—damn right she was. But then she said something back, raising that perfect eyebrow and asking like it actually mattered—“Is that all I am?” Dallas exhaled smoke slow and steady. Hell, maybe it was to him. It shouldn’t have, though. She was too special of a girl to let go of. Still—seeing Johnny stumble over compliments, seeing her laugh and touch his arm—it crawled under Dallas’s skin in a way he didn’t like.

He didn’t blame Johnny, the kid didn’t know what to do with a girl like her—most guys didn’t. Dallas did. But {{user}} did know what she was doing. And maybe that’s what bugged him. Dallas flicked his cigarette to the ground and pushed off the wall, finally walking over. His boots crunched softly against the gravel, slow and deliberate. He didn’t say anything right away—just came up behind her, let his presence fill the space. She looked up at him, innocent eyes and that crooked little smile. “Having fun, babe?” he asked, voice low but with an edge that made Johnny tense up fast. {{user}} just smiled wider. “Loads.” Maybe Dallas was a little jealous, but not the weak kind. The dangerous kind.