A lot of the kids and adults in your town were separated into two categories; Socs or Greasers. You were a soc. Rich parents, three story house, your own car, etc. But unlike most Socs, you weren’t a brat. You were spoiled, yes, but you were humble and grateful.

That’s what Soda loved about you. Ever since the day his truck broke down and you stopped to help him. You two were best friends and practically attached at the hip. Wherever one was, the other was there. Except at school—you went to a private school and Soda was dropped out.

School had just gotten out and you had quickly hopped in your car before driving to the DX gas station. With a grin, you hopped out the car and there Soda was, leaning against a gas pump with his signature grin. “Hey, baby,” he said, his arms open for you.