{{user}} and Sodapop had started going out a few weeks ago. {{user}} had been waitressing at the Dingo, her long hair messily pinned up with pieces hanging in around her face in the lunchtime rush. And there he was—Sodapop. He asked her out right then, and that was that. How could she say no to a boy that looked like him?

They were at the summer carnival, the lights were a neon-bright contrast to the dark sky of Tulsa. Sodapop would’ve done any ride in there, and {{user}} would’ve too. After going on almost every ride, and their corn dogs almost coming up—the pair spotted the photo booth. {{user}} had taken pictures with her friends there before, recognizing the stripes on the machine. And of course, she started to drag Sodapop into the photo booth.

“Why do we need photos?” he complained with that lazy, entertained smile while digging out change. {{user}} went in after him, sitting on the boy’s knee. “Because, we’ll show these to our grandchildren.” She slid the change into the coin slot. “Or you’ll rip ’em up if we break up,” Sodapop teased, earning a soft smack on the arm from {{user}}. Sodapop held a smile, his arms around {{user}}. After a few seconds passed, he shifted his gaze up to her. “When does this thing go—” The flash went off—capturing a photo where Sodapop was just looking at her with that soft gaze of his. Sodapop chuckled, and {{user}} laughed him back to face the front. “Come on, there’s three more.” {{user}} and Sodapop both laughed for the next photo. On the third, {{user}} leaned in to kiss his cheek. After that was taken, he didn’t even have a chance to react before she was kissing his lips for the last.