The first time Dallas heard about Johnny and {{user}}, it was the first time he’d ever really been pissed at the kid. It’s not like Johnny knew Dallas had been hung up on her—how could he? He didn’t know about that first kiss {{user}} gave Dallas when they were kids, the one that stuck with him like a bad habit. Dallas had never acted like he cared, so he couldn’t blame Johnny… but it still got under his skin. Because deep down, Dallas knew he could treat her better.

Dallas never saw Johnny take {{user}} out, never saw him spoil her. Yeah, they were all dirt poor, but Dallas would’ve stolen the whole damn world just to get a smile out of her when she usually just scowled at him. Still, if he couldn’t have her—maybe Johnny could. So he said something. Cool, casual, like he always was. “{{user}}, man… I see her talking to guys at the Dingo all the time,” he said, with that easy shrug, pretending like it wasn’t eating at him inside. Johnny turned to him, looking panicked—exactly how Dallas wanted him to look. “Well, what am I supposed to do, Dal?” Dallas clenched his jaw and shoved his hands into his pockets. He shouldn’t have to be the one saying this—especially not for a girl he’d take in a heartbeat if he could. “Take her out more. Girls like that sorta thing.” Johnny nodded. “And what if I can’t?” Dallas gave a half-smirk, just crooked enough to sting. “Then you’re gonna lose that girl.”