11; sunset

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EVERYTHING THERE COULD BE,
AND THEN ABSOLUTELY NOTHING

My fingers gripped to his leather jacket, the cool slick material rubbing softly against my fingers as I dropped to the gravel. The tracks were below my feet as I gazed up at the evening air, the hues of delicate oranges, reds, and blues painting the sky in a divine way. I tapped lightly against the tip of my shoes, my fingers dancing along the soles as I squinted, tilting my head and relishing in the mesmeric scenery.

Dallas creased his eyebrows and dropped the plastic bags to the rough grounds. "You okay?" His eyes darted from area to area, looking for any signs of trouble.

"I'm fine. Just sit for a second." I gulped and leaned over, snatching one of the bags from his side. He planted next to me, arms outstretched, supporting his weight, with his hair pushed back in a disheveled yet flattering way. He shook his locks and raised a palm above his bushy eyebrows, mouth agape as he followed my line of vision.

"It's beautiful," I stated dully. Dallas tilted his head in the slightest, crossing his left foot over the other. I popped open a bag of chips Dallas had purchased and shoved a few in my mouth, storing them as a chipmunk would, then handed it over to him. He mimicked my actions.

"The sunset?" He asked in disbelief.

I narrowed my eyes and muttered, "yeah." I shifted my gaze from the swirling shades and observed him, stolid with his callous fingers digging roughly into the pebbles and dirt. The tracks on both sides seemed to run on for miles and were surrounded by sparse trees, oak, and pine that barely concealed the path that expanded endlessly. I twisted my jaw and tried to read his expression, the dull and lifeless look he always seemed to hold as his stare was on the prettiest thing I'd seen, yet he conveyed no reaction.

I couldn't understand how somebody could see such a beautiful sight, the rarest and angelic tinges I'd laid my eyes on, and hold no emotion. They swirled with the whistling of the wind, the cool breeze that seemed hardly common on a regular day. I thought maybe mother nature had set the scene for us, the contrasting looming trees and the purest sunset, and suddenly I wanted to lean over and relish in a wonderful hug.

But I didn't. He wasn't the type. The inevitable sparkle that illuminated my features didn't dare touch his, the sharp and ominous look he held, the coarse wisps of his hair. I found myself admiring the faint bump of his nose, his soft lips and his chin that curved inward, sharp and trailing down to his adorning mellow amber coat.   

"I like to stop and appreciate the small things." I wasn't sure why I was still talking. I didn't think he would understand, but there was a comfortableness inside of me, an urge to tell him my thoughts. A sliver of me hoped he would appreciate it.  "It's really beautiful watching the colors fade to nothing. Everything there could be, and then absolutely nothing."

"Isn't that depressing?" He cocked an eyebrow and shoved his hand in the bag of chips. I snorted and hung my head, fingers trailing the edges of the tracks.

"They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder." I smiled, tilting my head toward him. "Besides, it's not like night time lasts forever. So I don't see it to be depressing." I shrugged my shoulders with minimal effort and flicked a pebble over the track. I shifted my gaze back to the sunset, the mesmerizing colors I hadn't seen in the longest time, not in the way they moved so elegantly and the dulcet flow of the wind against my skin. Dallas scooted over on the rail and pressed the side of his body against mine, his arm against my back and gripping the trail beside me. I moved even closer to him but kept my longing stare on the scene.

I shoved a chip in my mouth. "Penny for your thoughts?"

His eyes flickered down to the side of my face but I kept my stare on the sky, the swift movement of his chin in my peripheral vision causing my lips to curve upward. He observed my face, the curves and indents and the freckles along my nose, and I could tell because his expression was finally something other than detached. It was nice to see, even from the faint corner of my vision, his lips twitch and his head gently move forward.

"I think," he mumbled, eyes flickering back to the sky. "For some reason, this is the best thing you've ever seen."

"Well that's an observation, Dallas," I teased, scrunching my nose. "You're quite right, but that's not what I asked."

"I'm not really the sunset type of guy," he muttered, his chest sinking as he popped the collar of his jacket. I narrowed my eyes and pouted my lips, eyes traveling the defined swirls and twists of the setting sun.

"Then what are you?" The words left my lips without a thought and the only thing I could think about was the colors before me, how they shone so brightly yet soothed my eyes and calmed my heart, and as I looked over at Dallas, the way the sunset emitted a wonderful glow. His features tinted orange almost contorted his natural dangerous and reckless look.

"See for yourself." He shuffled to his feet and held a hand out. I took it and loved the moment our fingers touched, but it was only fleeting as I retracted and wiped the dirt from my baby blue jeans. He waited and took one last glance at the paint like picture before grabbing the bags and setting off.

I thought the tracks must have been the clearest place to see the sunset. There was a desolate spot where we had sat with no trees, just on either side of us, where the wide track lay and an empty field before the west. The sunset far above the houses, I'd never seen a clearer spot to watch dark fade to light. And that's when I realized, a few meters of land was open to everybody in Tulsa, whether as the sunset faded and night came, the next morning you would wake up and throw on a leather jacket or a sweater vest. Rich or poor, snobby or reckless, whatever label one may hold, the track was a placid area with a clear view of what was good. What was truly beautiful in a corrupt town.

And as these thoughts ran through my mind I almost, almost sympathized for those who lay in their borderline mansions, gazing from their pristine windows to the near heaven on earth, wishing that for a fleeting second they weren't defined as snobby, and that they could befriend that kid at school that seemed nice but dressed so differently, yet inside was just the same. And I wondered if anybody had looked at me like that. I wondered if Dallas would have spared me a second glance had I settled west side.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He mumbled, shoving the opened bag of chips in the already ripping plastic bag. I gave him a tight-lipped smile and squinted ahead of me. It was a steep grass hill and we walked just where we had once been gazing.

"My thoughts are worth more than a penny, Winston." I nudged his shoulder.

Dallas lifted the bag and rustled around in it, tongue poking between his lips in concentration. I narrowed my eyes and stifled a laughter.

"Pretzels for your thoughts?" He held out a miniature bag of the salty treat and waved them in front of my face. I rolled my eyes and snatched it from his grip.

"Never would have guessed you had a cheesy side," I joked. "Thought you were all knives, violence and law breaking."

"I'm a grade A delinquent, honey," he hummed, throwing the plastic bag over his broad, leather covered shoulder. "Thoughts?"

"I was thinking about the sunset," I partially lied, giving a faint smile and tilt of the head. He raised his unkempt eyebrows and barely nodded his head. The bag thumped against his back as we trudged down the damp hills, the grass sliding beneath our shoes. I almost slipped and fell but with my hands steadying myself, I managed to keep on both feet.

"I almost forgot." He slung the bag over his shoulder and reached inside, pulling out the vivid green switchblade. I rolled my eyes toward the overhead sunset and crossed my arms, giving a stern look. Dallas grinned, the lines on his cheeks risen upward as he held it out towards me, fingers wrapping tightly along the hilt.

"If you've got dirty work, you're damn well doing that yourself," I grumbled, hesitantly taking it from his possession. He rasped a hoarse laughter, coming from deep in his throat.

"Not killing anyone tonight." We reached the end of the hill and were now planted on level Soc territory. The houses were all in rows, unlittered streets and white picket fences unlike those on the east. I thought if I reached out and touched one, the tip of the unchipped wood, for a moment I would believe that land was mine.

But after a moment I realized I didn't want it. I liked my home, and although my father was seldom around, he worked hard to keep food on the table. Envy wasn't a trait I wished to have.

"So what are we doing on the Soc side, Winston?" I asked, my fingers dancing gently along the peak of the picket fence. "Nothing legal, I suppose."

"Surprise isn't over, baby," he rasped, placing his hands on either side of my waist and nuzzling his head into my neck. I squirmed and emitted an unpurposeful giggle, I almost cringed hearing how unlike myself I sounded. Snorting, I pushed his chest and took a step back.

"Meter away at all times, Winston," I teased, raising my eyebrows and crossing my arms. He exhaled sharply and tilted his head so that he was peering down the street.

"I'll try my best." He began to walk down the spotless, newly paved road. Mustangs were in almost every parking lot and as I trailed behind the fearless boy, I was almost trembling in my shoes gazing at all the costly cars. I wondered if anybody was looking out their window at that moment and saw the two of us, unusually dressed and fairly poor looking in comparison to the people that habituated these streets.

"Illegal activity is not my specialty, I'm warning you." I shoved my hands in my pockets, eyes darting around at the homes. "I'm not a quick runner, either."

Dallas spun on his heel and held his hands out, continuing to walk backward. "You've got a master here sweetheart. Been to jail many times."

"Doesn't make me feel any better. That just means you get caught a lot." I gave a wary smile. He scoffed and looked up at the skies that were just beginning to darken, the sunset fading over the horizon.

"Gotten away more times than I've gotten caught." He winked, pivoting on his heel and strutting in the same direction. "You ever got revenge on that piece of scum, Holly?"

I furrowed my brow. "Who?"

"Cheater." He murmured, reaching into his back pocket to light a cigarette.

"James?" I asked. I worried for a second, then remembered James lived on the east side.

"Yeah, that piece of shit. You get revenge?" He placed the weed between his lips and slowed so that we were strolling side by side. I shook my head and puckered my lips, exhaling slowly.

"No, I'm not one for revenge."

Dallas ticked his tongue and shook his head, wispy hair blowing in the smooth wind. "Doesn't matter. Two-timers get what they deserve."

"Which is?" I asked, suddenly becoming uneasy. Dallas grinned beside me, his eyes not meeting my stare as he squinted ahead. He held up the bag.

"A rude awakening." He said, malice dripping from his tongue and it almost scared me, send chills down my spine with his tone.

I stopped in my tracks, placing my hands on my hips. "James lives on the east side." Dallas's smirk was unnerving, the way his lips curved and his teeth pointed. It held malevolence, a will to do wrong. Yet I longed to see what the outcome would be, and I didn't fully detest the idea of revenge.

"He's at his friend's house tonight. Party. Guess who the friend is?" He asked, continuing on his pace forward. I followed quick on his trail and creased my brow.

"Who?"

"June Connor." He flicked the ashes of his weed.

"Who's that?"

Dallas spun his head. "Another guy Sylvia cheated on me with. While I was in the cooler, man."

I raised my eyebrows, lips parting. "Oh."

"Works in my favor," he mumbled, flicking the weed onto the cement, stomping it with his torn sneakers. His head tilted up when a shrill holler came from the house over, lights streaming in the row of homes. There were shadows in the window and a faint blaring music that thumped, audible outside as we stood on the road. A myriad of cars littering the streets and we were in the correct destination, the house of Jude Connor. Out of the tens, there was James', a shining black glistening in the darkening air. It's window's untouched, paint job newly done and tires inflated to their fullest, the clean smell of new rubber. A sickening pristine when thinking of who owned it.

It was beautiful. But then again, all beautiful things come to an end.

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