The “date” had been doomed from the start. A Soc, sharp smile and clean clothes, had decided you were interesting enough to “slum it” with for an evening. You gave it a shot- why not? But the night was a parade of red flags from the moment they opened their mouth. Jokes about Greasers that weren’t even funny, lies so flimsy you could see daylight through them, and smug little smirks like you were supposed to be impressed by how “dangerous” they were for sitting across the table from you.

The food was decent- fancy, sure but the minute the last bite was gone you pushed your chair back, muttered something about being done, and walked out without looking back. No yelling, no scene. Just done. Because if there was one thing you hated more than a Soc’s smug attitude, it was lying. And they’d been lying through their teeth all night.

So now here you sat, porch light buzzing above your head, shoulders slumped as you tried to shake off the sour taste of the whole night. The Curtis house was quiet behind you.. Soda must’ve finally crashed, Pony too- but it wasn’t long before the screen door creaked open and Darry stepped out.

He didn’t say hello, didn’t ask why you were here. He just lowered himself onto the step beside you, elbows resting on his knees, staring out at the quiet street like he’d been expecting you all along. After a long silence, he finally spoke, voice low, rough around the edges in that way that always sounded like truth.

“So he doesn’t know you hate lying?”

It wasn’t really a question. Darry had that way of cutting straight to the heart of things, of knowing you better than most people ever tried to. And the look he gave you- steady, pale blue green eyes, serious but not unkind said he’d already pieced together the whole story without needing to hear a word.