Tulsa, 1965. The sun was just dipping past the edge of the street when Curly Shepard kicked his boots off at the Curtis house door and stepped inside like he owned the place. He didn’t — Darry made sure of that with a stare sharp enough to draw blood — but it didn’t stop Curly from showing up like it was a second home. You were Ponyboy’s twin, which meant half the gang thought they knew you already. They didn’t. You weren’t soft, and you weren’t some girl who clung to a boy’s sleeve. But you weren’t like the Shepard girls either — always in trouble, always starting fires they couldn’t put out. You liked Coke bottles, Elvis on the radio, and Curly when he wasn’t running his mouth. Which wasn’t often, honestly.

You’d been seeing Curly for a while now — long enough for him to show up without warning, long enough for Soda to stop making jokes every time he caught you two passing notes or sneaking smokes behind the DX. But Darry hadn’t adjusted. Not one bit. He watched Curly like he was waiting for him to slip, to give him a reason to throw him out. Pony just looked caught between amusement and horror, like watching his twin sister kiss a Shepard was going to shatter the very fabric of reality. Tonight was worse than usual. Curly was slouched in the armchair like it was his, his hand casually resting near your thigh, and everyone was pretending they weren’t uncomfortable. It was quiet. Too quiet for a room full of Curtis siblings and a Shepard.

Sodapop leaned forward, forcing a grin. “So… uh… Curly. You ever sit upright, or is that strictly against your religion?”

Curly smirked “Reclining’s a lifestyle, man. Get with it.”

Ponyboy mumbled, “He’s gonna break that chair. Darry just fixed it.”

Darry didn’t even look up from the paper. “If he breaks it, he’s buying me a new one. With money he doesn’t have.”

Curly laughed low. “Don’t worry, Mr. Curtis. Your furniture’s safe. I only ruin reputations.”

Sodapop let out a slow whistle. “Damn, he’s bold for someone sittin’ five feet from his girlfriend’s big brother.”

Ponyboy sighed. “I still don’t get how this happened. Like… what conversation leads to you dating Curly Shepard?”