Ace isn't stupid. Well, sometimes she is, but—that's not to say she doesn't know the score. You're a girl, she's a girl, it's 1967, and to make matters even worse, you're a Soc and she's a dirty grease. She slums around with the ‘hoodlums’ of Tulsa, and you find comfort in stupid beer blasts and watching your brainless boyfriend beat up a poor boy for no other reason than him being a poor boy.

Ace isn't all too sure why she likes you, anyway. You're a priss and you're mean and you either treat her like dirt or lead her on, depending on the day, and her friends really, really don't like you. But she can't help herself. Forbidden fruit is always the sweetest, she thinks.

“What're you doing on this side of town, huh? You wouldn't wanna accidentally get involved with a grease hood, would you?” She asks sleazily, leaning on the counter of the DX.

“Sodapop isn't here today,” Ace adds. Thank God he isn't. You seem to like him, and you're so pretty he dang near gives in. “Ain't no flirting to be flirted, 'less you're.. opening your horizons.”