❝ YOU CAN'T LIVE IN BOOKS
YOUR WHOLE LIFE ❞

–

"You know, I'm starting to think you have some sort of an obsession with me," I pursed my lips, gripping the keys between my thumb and pointer finger. Dallas shook his head, lips tugging upward. A soft chuckle escaped my mouth. "What? Is that not the correct word? A close synonym, maybe."

"Maybe," he mused.

"Probably. But I'll stick with obsession. It seems fitting," I twisted my lips, getting out from the car. We had arrived at Bucks. I parked the car to the side of the house and trailed to the passenger's side, waiting for Dallas to emerge.

"Addiction?" He asked as he rose from his seat. My lips tugged upward, turning my head to the side.

"I suppose that's fitting as well."

He stood tall, almost hovering over me as he asked, "what's on the list for today, sweetheart?"

I hummed, crossing my arms over my chest. I looked up at him from underneath my eyelashes. "A nice walk around town? Nothing illegal. Nothing that will kill me. Sound good?"

He twisted his jaw, turning to face the oak tree outside the house. "Uneventful, but sure."

"We'll make it eventful," I placed a hand on my hip and began walking toward the dirt road. Dallas trailed behind me, lighting his weed. He passed it to me and I took a drag. Fiddling with my fingers, I almost tripped over a large rock that sat on the ground.

"Hey, watch where you're going," he chuckled, slipping an arm around my waist to balance me. I rolled my eyes and looked down. Scrunching his nose, he sent a fleeting glance down at me, then back up toward the road.

"How was school, sweetheart?" He asked, taking a puff from his cigarette. I make a sour face and looked towards the forest.

"Dull. My teacher should be teaching drama, not English. And we have to read Romeo and Juliet. I've already read it so the classes are gonna be long and boring," I scrunched my nose, blocking the sun from my eyes, thinking about all the long, dreadful lessons I would have to endure. A gravelly chuckle emitted from the back of Dallas's throat.

"Feel free to join me anytime, darling," he pulled me in closer to his waist. I laughed and pushed him off.

"No thank you," I poked his arm, pushing him further away. He grinned down at me. "I'd like to pass. No offense to Two-Bit, but if I'm still a junior at eighteen, I won't be too happy."

"Oh yeah? What, are you gonna be a doctor?" He snickered, "a lawyer?"

"No," I hummed, "something in the arts."

"The arts?" He asked, his eyebrows raised, "you an artist?"

"No, I couldn't draw for my life," I laughed, gazing down at my fingers. I cracked each one, looking up at him, "I like to read and write. I don't know, maybe I'll be a journalist." There was a long pause, before I added, "well, what are you gonna be, Winston? A worldwide famous JD?"

"If I can get that far," he grinned, interlocking his fingers behind his head.

My eyes flickered around the town, landing on the convenience store. Noticing Mr. Hanson through the glass window, I tugged on Dallas's arm and pulled him toward me. He stopped, smirking down at me.

"C'mere, there's someone I want you to meet," I pulled on his sleeve, tugging him in the direction of the corner store. He strolled beside me, taking a puff from his weed. I made a face and took it from him.

"If he sees you with this, he'll be scolding me for the next week," I flicked it at the ground and stomped mercilessly, pushing it into the dirt.

Dallas cursed under his breath but put on a face as we entered the store side by side. The bell sounded, Mr. Hanson's head popping up to look at me. He frowned, then looked at the boy beside me, and I almost saw a hint of anger in his eyes.

"Holly," he said, as always, with a hint of vexation, "you should be in school."

I smiled at him, tugging Dallas toward the counter, "we were reading Romeo and Juliet. Don't worry, I didn't miss anything important." I looked up at Dallas, smiling. He held an emotionless expression as he stared down the aging man.

"And this is?" Mr.Hanson started, disdainfully eyeing the boy. I coughed, adjusting the hem of my shirt. I ran my tongue across my bottom lip and looked towards the book section.

"This is a friend of mine, Hanson. His name is Dallas," my lips tugged upward, "he's real nice."

I saw something flicker through Dallas's eyes, but he kept his mouth shut. Mr. Hanson held out his hand and Dallas stared at it, hesitantly reaching out to grab it. The whole time I stared, uncomfortably shifting in place.

"Pleasure to meet you, man," Dallas nodded his head. My face went pale as I saw Mr. Hanson's face scrunch up.

"You too," he trailed off, looking the boy up and down, "man."

Dallas reached into his pocket, grabbing the box of cigarettes. My eyes widening, I hurriedly placed a hand over his and interlocked our fingers, dragging him toward the book section. "Come on, this is where I get all my books. I'll show you what I've read." Once we were out of hearing distance, I whispered, "no smoking. I told you."

Dallas scoffed, his eyes trailing over the vast amount of books. I picked a couple out, showing him the covers and the backs, trying to interest him. Soon enough, he was listening to what I was saying and even picking up a few himself. Mr. Hanson was watching us from afar, pursing his lips disdainfully.

"Mr. Hanson has been really nice to me since I was a kid," I started, turning towards the boy, "he's really important to me."

"I can tell," he hummed, placing a book down. Suddenly, he grinned, placing his hands on my back and pulling me in close to him. "I don't think he likes me, though."

I snickered under my breath, looking down at his chest, "yeah, probably not. He's not used to people calling him 'man'"

Dallas shrugged, squinting his eyes. Lips curling upward, he put his thumb under my chin and lifted my face to meet his. "Curtis house?"

Glancing at the books, I turned back towards him, "yeah, alright."

I spun on my toes and looked at Mr. Hanson, who was glaring at the boy. I shot daggers at him as if to tell him to back off. He respectfully softened his look and turned towards me as we were about to stroll through the door. He called out. "Holly, if you ever skip class again and I find out about it," he thought over his words, "I won't be happy. You understand?"

"Clear, dad," I laughed, moving in closer to Dallas as he twisted his head around. Mr. Hanson's face went grim, his jaw tightening.

"I mean it, Holly. Don't give me that attitude."

"Alright, sorry Mr. H. Won't happen again," I assured, crossing my arms.

"It better not," he leaned against the counter, his arm propped on the cash register.

Ambling out the door together, Dallas glanced down at me. "Sounds strict."

"No. Well, yes," I laughed, looking off towards the trees, "he is, but he really cares about me, and I care about him. He's taught me a lot over the years. I love him."

Dallas snickered under his breath, running his tongue across his bottom lip. "So your best friend is an old man? Cool." He drawled out the last word, a smirk hinting at his lips.

Pushing him away, I frowned teasingly. "Hey, he's been good to me."

"Yeah, yeah." Dallas reached into his pocket and pulled out a weed, lighting it with the chain around his neck.

"Jeez Dal, you smoke a lot," I noticed. He eyed me and spun in the direction of the Curtis house. I followed quick on his trail.

"What's your point?" He blew a puff of smoke from his mouth, squinting down at me.

"Well, it's unhealthy to smoke that much, isn't it?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. A deep chuckle came from the back of his throat as his body relaxed.

"There're more dangerous things I do than smoke, darling," he eyed me, "a weed is the least of my problems."

I twisted my jaw. "Alright. I suppose so."

Before we knew it, we were stood in front of the Curtis house side by side. Dallas had put out his weed, stomping it into the ground, before walking to the front door. He opened it without knocking and strolled on inside, kicking his shoes off. I mimicked his movements. Dallas hollered to see if anybody was in the house. I was relieved to see there wasn't, as a small part of me was thinking Steve might've been there.

"House all to ourselves, sweetheart," he crossed his arms over his chest after he slid off his leather jacket, leaving him in a plain white tee, "what are you feeling up for?"

I hummed, rocking on the balls of my feet. My eyes flickered up at him, "television? Wait," I snapped my finger, "no, how about we cook something? Or I'll cook, you watch tv, or whatever."

"Free food," Dallas bit his bottom lip, "I'm not gonna say no."

I perked up. "Great."

Dallas lounged on the couch, flicking on the television. It turned on to some unfamiliar channel as I strolled into the kitchen, taking out some pots and pans. I took a variety of vegetables from the fridge and began cooking them on low heat. When they were done, I sprinkled all the spices I managed to find in their cupboard and made a plate for the two of us. I then left a five dollar bill on the table since the Curtis's weren't too wealthy, and I didn't want to be taking any of their food without paying them back.

"Vegetables," I called out as I approached Dallas. He scrunched his nose, leaning back.

"Vegetables?"

"And spices," I grinned, setting down the bowl in front of him. "Look, I'm not the best cook, and this is healthy. So eat up."

He eyed the bowl, taking a whiff of the food. The corners of his lips turned upwards. "Alright."

I sighed, sitting down on the tattered couch. Setting my bowl on the armrest, I brought my feet up onto the couch, behind Dallas who was seated on the floor in front of the table.

"What are you watching?" I asked, squinting at the television. He tilted his head toward me.

"Some TV show, man. Don't know," he scooped some broccoli into his mouth and wiped the corners of his lips. I laughed at him and did the same. My eyes traveled the room, flickering from object to object, looking for something more worth my time. They landed on a notepad, about the size of a regular sheet of paper. I hurriedly grasped it, careful to not let my bowl fall, and grabbed the pen from the coffee table.

I then began to write. It was a letter to my grandmother who I hadn't talked to in quite a while. She lived no more than half an hour away, but I never ended up seeing her often with school and everything. So I wrote. Just like I did for almost everybody.

"What are you writing?" Dallas asked through a mouthful of food. I cringed and turned back to my paper.

"A letter. To my grandmother," I hummed, flicking my pen across the paper.

"That sweet," Dallas chewed, bringing his hand to his mouth to stop food from falling out, "is she your second best friend?"

"Dallas!" My lips parted, shoving his shoulder harshly.

"But it's true," he snorted.

"So what if it is? She's my grandma, I love her to death," I shook my head, trying not to let a grin break out. He raised his eyebrows.

"So why don't you just go see her?" He asked, finishing off his bowl. I narrowed my eyes, wondering how he could eat so quickly.

"Because I like to write. I write to everybody I love, unless I live with them, of course," I signed my name at the bottom after finishing off the paragraph. My eyes flickered down to him where he sat on the tattered, dirtied rug. "I told you, Dal, I'm a writer. I can get out everything I want to say when I'm writing."

"Fair enough," he mused. I gave a slight nod of the head and folded the paper over, placing it on the coffee table. Dallas grabbed it and opened it, beginning to skim over the paragraph. I tried to take it from him, but he held it high in the air. He snickered when he read a certain line.

"So you're lying to her, huh? I thought that Hanson guy was your best friend? You know, it's not nice to lie, Holly," he crossed his arms, handing back my paper. I glared at him, shoving it in my pocket.

"I am not lying," I gritted my teeth, "I love them equally."

"Alright, alright," he put his hands up, chuckling under his breath. Taking a sharp breath, I slumped back on the couch and kept my eyes glued to the television. Dallas stared at me for a good minute, before tilting his head and pouting.

"C'mon sweetheart, we're doing this again? Don't be mad," he ran his tongue across his lip and looked at mine. I sent daggers in his direction before my eyes flickered back up to the show.

"It's hard when you're so flipping infuriating," I said, my mouth barely opening. He let out a deep sigh, getting up from his position on the floor.

"That's cute. Real cute, Holls," he narrowed his eyes, taking out a weed and lighting it. I clenched my jaw and looked up at him.

"Could you not stink up the house?" I asked, waving a hand over my nose. Dallas scoffed, bringing the stick to his lips.

"Cut it out. You smoke too," he said through a puff of smoke.

"Barely," I mumbled, crossing my arms over my chest. He sat down beside me, putting the weed out in the ash tray before wrapping his arms around my shoulder. My eyes flickered up at him.

"You don't like people reading your writing?" He asked, moving in closer to me. I relaxed a bit, before responding.

"Not when I barely know them," I grumbled, uncrossing my arms and letting them relax beside me. He frowned and reached down for my hand.

"I'm sorry," he placed his hand over mine and relaxed beside me as I leaned close to him, staring at the television. My eyes shot up at him.

"Well," I let out a huff of laughter, "at least I know you mean it."

"Why?" He mumbled, looking down at me.

"Because your ego is so huge, you would never say sorry unless you felt you had to," I grinned, leaning in closer to him. He pulled my head on his shoulder, my hair falling over his shirt in wisps. He took his fingers and softly brushed it to the back of my neck.

"If you were anybody else, sweetheart..." he trailed off, a grin playing at his lips.

"What makes me so special?" I asked, staring at the television. He grabbed the remote and turned it off, so I was looking at a black screen.

"Man, I don't know," he twisted his jaw. I closed my eyes and decided to stop it. I didn't know him well enough.

"My letters are personal to me. That's why I got mad," I said, humming under my breath. I could feel him nod beside me. I thought maybe I'd heard him mumble an "I know," but I wasn't quite sure.

There was a long silence before I spoke up again. "Thank you for what you did yesterday."

"Got you beat up?" He asked, a slight laughter coming from his lips.

"Yeah, that," I chuckled, "thanks. I mean, I had a good time. Best time in a while."

"You can't live in books your whole life," he leaned back, allowing me to move closer into him. He began to rub my shoulder.

"I was hoping I could," I mumbled, sniffing, and suddenly I felt tired. Dallas's chest rose up and down with huffs of laughter.

Soon enough, I felt myself doze off, a cold bowl of vegetables by my feet and a boy by my side.