I’m a shooting star leaping through the sky…

Earlier in the day, Dally had barely, just barely convinced you to take a ride with him on an old motorcycle that Buck Merrill had lended.

Now, it was nighttime, and Dally was zooming through the empty streets, taking sharp turns and swerving.

“Dally! You’re gonna kill us!” You squeaked after nearly flying off the back of the bike. You clung onto his jacket, hands holding on for dear life.

Of course, Dallas Winston laughed, wild and unbothered, drunk on the sound of the motorcycle roaring and the sounds of your protests.

“Only if you let go-“

You held on tighter. “You’re a maniac!” You laughed breathlessly.

“Then what’s that make you, ridin’ with me?” He retorted, yelling over the wind.

Truthfully, the high speeds and risk of cops didn’t scare him. The fact that you trusted him… that was terrifying.