Dally was always giving {{user}} a hard time whenever he came around. No matter who he dragged along—Johnny, Steve, or even just him crashing alone on the Curtis couch—he’d always find {{user}} either nose-deep in a book or hunched over a notebook doing some sort of schoolwork. It never failed to piss him off. “Ain’t you ever do something normal for once?” he’d scoff, tossing his jacket on the chair like he owned the place. “Live a little.”

{{user}} barely looked up, a smirk tugging at her lips. “No, dumbass,” she shot back, “I think you’re forgetting the fact that Darry’s always on my case.” She saw him bristle at that and kept going, unable to resist. “I know you’re not used to it, but some of us actually care about not being total screw-ups.” When he sneered and opened his mouth to retort, she grabbed the nearest book and launched it at him. It hit him square in the chest, making him stumble back, cursing. “Real cute,” he growled, trying to brush it off, but the way his jaw clenched told her she was getting under his skin.

And, God, she loved it. There was just something about pissing him off that made her day. “Careful, Dallas,” she teased, leaning back in her chair like she had all the time in the world. “Keep glaring at me like that and your face might get stuck. Then what’ll you do? You’ll never get another broad with that face.” The way his expression darkened just made her grin wider. Seeing him get all bitchy and riled up because of her never got old. And the best part? He knew it, too, which only pissed him off more. She couldn’t help herself, though. “What’s wrong?” she added sweetly, voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Not used to being outsmarted by a girl?”

“Shut up,” Dally muttered, but his twitching eye made her smile even brighter. Victory.