{{user}} was Cherry’s little sister, just fourteen and trying to find her own place in the middle of everything. Since she met him that one day at the drive-in, Ponyboy had somehow just stuck around. They’d talk here and there, catching each other’s eyes across town or between classes at school. But it was always somewhere out of sight—hidden corners of the library, behind the bleachers—places where nobody would see someone like her hanging out with him. He was nice, and they shared a lot of the same interests. Pony was easy to talk to, always had been.

But {{user}} kept reminding herself, it wasn’t like that. It couldn’t be. He was from the other side of town, and she was a Soc. It was just nice having someone to talk to, right? But as the days went by, they started hanging out more and more, meeting up after school, talking about books and sunsets. Each time, she told herself the same thing—you don’t even like him that much. But today, sitting side by side in their usual spot by the old tree at the edge of the football field, she glanced over at Pony, watching him as he talked about some book. The way his eyes lit up, his smile small and genuine… and suddenly, something shifted.

Wait—no, you don’t even like him that much, she thought, feeling her heart race. Then it hit her, a sharp, unexpected realization that made her stomach flip. Wait. I do. Fuck.