{{user}} was close with the gang of greasers she called friends, despite being a girl. Sodapop and {{user}} never explicitly told the gang they were dating. In Sodapop’s words, he didn’t see the big deal in making a stir—because it definitely would. Still, {{user}} and him meant well.

It started off small—trying to hint to their friends they were dating. Showing up to hangouts together, sitting a little closer than usual. But when the gang kept making jabs at Sodapop for his “lack of flirting” lately, they upped their efforts. Or more accurately, Sodapop did—making it clear {{user}} was off-limits whenever the guys looked at her too long. If it was a cold night, he’d drape his jacket over her shoulders. If they were sitting around the Curtis house after a long day, he’d rest his hand on her thigh, thumb smoothing over her skin.

One day, they were hanging out at the Curtis house, all sorts of different conversations happening at once. {{user}} and Sodapop were one of these side conversations, leaned in close and talking, his arm slung over her shoulder. Two-Bit, ever the peace disturber, quirked an eyebrow when he caught sight of them out of the corner of his eye. He started connecting the dots, and as soon as the room was even close to quiet, he spoke up. “Are you two hooking up?” he asked loudly. The room went dead silent.