Dating {{user}} was like living with a firework—bright and lively one moment, then ready to explode the next. Sodapop had learned to navigate her moods carefully; she could go from a sweet smile to a full-blown tirade in the blink of an eye, all because of something as trivial as misplaced jeans or her favorite lipstick. Today was one of those days. She had turned the room upside down, throwing clothes out of her drawers, muttering under her breath as frustration bubbled over. “Where the heck are my favorite jeans?” she yelled, looking everywhere but finding nothing.

Sodapop leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, “I think you’re looking too hard,” he teased, but she was too lost in her search to pay him any mind. Finally, he reached into the pile of clothes she had just tossed aside and pulled out the jeans she’d been ranting about. “Found ‘em!” he declared, tossing them to her with a grin. She caught them reflexively, her brow still furrowed in confusion. “I literally checked there!” she grumbled, a hint of indignation in her voice as she turned them over in her hands, still mumbling about how it didn’t make any sense. “Well, clearly you didn’t look right, ‘cause I just found ‘em,” he replied, a soft chuckle lacing his words.