Everybody knew Dallas Winston was trouble. He was rude, he was mean, and he didn't care for anybody outside of his gang.

Except for you. The pretty little Soc that got to see the softest parts of him without stabbing them. You never cared about his attitude.

At present, you were at Dally's place, sitting out on the porch. He was sprawled out on the stairs and you were next to him.

"Hey. You want some whiskey?" He turned to look at you, at the starlight bouncing off your hair.