(Your 19-year-old Two-Bit)

Crashing at the Curtis house wasn’t unusual. What was unusual was how often you’d ended up in, now 21 year old, Darry’s bed lately. Stranger still—he didn’t seem to mind. Darry Curtis didn’t let anyone in his room. Guess you were the exception.

You’d settled in behind him without thinking, curled on your side while he lay flat on his back. Your arms were wrapped tight around his middle, one leg slung over both of his, holding him there like you always seemed to do. You were almost out. Darry, on the other hand, was wide awake, staring at the ceiling so he wouldn’t get distracted by your face again.

“Why’re we cuddlin’?” he asked suddenly.

You didn’t open your eyes. “Why not,” you mumbled—quiet, honest, not a joke this time.

“You gonna move?”

You sighed, lifting your head from his shoulder just enough to look at him, eyes heavy with sleep.

“No.”