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"I CAME HERE TO SEE A MOVIE, AND I'M GONNA SEE A MOVIE."

Cherry leads the two other girls in pleated skirts towards the front of the outdoor movie seats. Their chins held high, their hair waving in the summer breeze as they perch down on a trio of empty chairs. A silly beach comedy displaying on the big screen a few hundred yards ahead of them, the speakers echoing dialogue up above.

Rory noticed the greaser's tousled brown hair from behind before Dallas could recognize her new outfit in front of him: a white, thin fabric long-sleeve with embroidered cuff links and a lacy neckline, a cherry red and chocolate brown plaid skirt, along with matching white stockings that end just below the bandaged knees.

Softly elbowing Ponyboy, he smiles a crooked grin. The youngest Curtis hopefully shrugs his shoulders, he couldn't believe it either.

Striking St. Christopher, he leans forward, using Rory's profile to block the wind. As soon as she feels the immediate flame burn her cheeks, he returns to his chair, smoking the cigarette between his ringed fingers. "What are the odds? Three times in one day, are you followin' me, doll?"

A bashful giggle slips from her strawberry lips, turning her head and glancing at the boy through her fluttering lashes. "You wish, sweetheart."

Pinching the tobacco roll between his fingerpads, he lets out some smoke in her direction. The strong chemical of nicotine slightly singeing her eyes. He pints to the golden jewelry decorating the curve of her face. "Are those earrings real, huh? Are those diamonds real?"

"C'mon, cut it out, Dal," Johnny speaks, trying to pay attention to the movie. He hasn't been to the drive-in since forever, he usually never leaves the Curtis' residence once dusk falls. Too afraid to risk getting hit by his father, getting screamed at by his mother, or even worse, being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Marcy and Cherry huff in annoyance, widening their eyes at Rory. They couldn't believe the nerve of Dallas, any more than their friend reciprocating his behavior. Sherri softly slaps her friend's thigh, gaining enough attention to remind her to ignore him.

Dallas watches the interaction, his eyebrows furrowing as Rory turns her attention away from him. He lifts up his black boots, putting the heel on top of the nearest metal back. Thinking he is secure, he lifts up the other, just to fall back and onto the sooty ground. Ponyboy cackles at him, causing the rest to laugh along.

Chuckling under his breath, the embarrassment quickly washes over. He leans back up, his voice ricocheting off the crook of Rory's peach-scented neck. His fingers graze over the tiny gold and diamond stud earrings, "how can I find out if these diamonds are real?"

His fingernail traced along the edge of her jawline, before softly hooking the underside of her chin and turning her head to face him once again. His chocolatey eyes dipped to her parted lips and back up to explore the cinnamon irises. "Is your necklace real gold too, or is everything you got to offer just for show?"

"Come on, Dally. Just watch the movie," Johnny says again, just as Dallas returns to his seat. The native New Yorker laughs at Rory's pissed-off reaction to his teases. He shuffles his feet on the back of her chair, precisely as she sighs in annoyance.

"Get your feet off my chair and shut your trap," Rory raises her voice, angrier at herself for falling for his flirtations. Of course, her feelings are a mere game to him. She should've known better.

"Who's gonna make me, huh?" Dallas batters, picking up his feet as Johnny excuses himself to get a coke. He pulls up his chair, a bit too close that she could smell his signature cologne. "What your black-eyed ex-boyfriend, Williams? Don't worry, doll, I already took care of him."

"You two broke up? What's he talkin' about?" Sherri whispers, provoking Rory to shrug and nod. She didn't really tell anyone except Randy, and, surprisingly, he kept his mouth shut. She thought he would be screaming the good news from the city's water tower by now.

"Leave her alone, Dal," Ponyboy comments, watching as Rory starts to grow shy again. He knows it's no use though because once Dallas starts, it's very difficult to get the wild boy to stop. He feels for her, knowing how easy it is to fake being tough. He hates acting a certain way because society expects him to, and he has a feeling the brunette does, too.

"Isn't he the greaser who just got out of jail or something?" Marcy mentions to the two girls, practically telling Dallas what they truly think of him— and by affiliation, Ponyboy.

"Yeah, whatever you say, honey," the boy with messy brown hair rebuttals. His eyes circled back to Rory, practically never leaving her body.

"Just leave us alone or I call the cops," warns Cherry, growing sick and tired of this interaction. Sure, she's a bit jealous that Dallas isn't talking to her, considering she's used to the attention, but she's even more pissed off at the fact that she cannot watch the movies in peace.

"Oh, my my, you got me scared to death!" Dallas yells sarcastically, earning a soft snicker or two from Ponyboy. Rory rolls her eyes, biting her bottom lip as she holds back what she really wants to say until he continues to pester. "What am, what am I gonna do now, Pony? Huh? These girls are makin' me shake."

Completely turning her body in her chair, her arm holds the metal back in a tight grip, holding back from violently thrashing in annoyance. "For once in your life, can you be fucking nice?"

"Doll," Dally leans forward, his voice cold and calculating. "I'm neva nice."

"You sure about that, sweetheart?" The nickname rolled off her tongue. It's new, addictive to hear from her strawberry sugarcoated lips. It's like he'll do anything for her to say it again. Hopefully, the next time she does, she'll be in his bare arms.

"Listen, can I interest you in a coca-cola or a seven-up?" He asks, his voice soft and polite, hoping to sweeten the deal. . . but Cherry Valance doesn't let him.

"Get lost, hood!" She yells, startling the rest of the moviegoers around her. Both Rory and Dallas jump at the fierceness, shocked by her attitude.

"Okay, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you had a problem with yelling in my face," Dallas blinks, looking back over to Rory with worried eyes. The brunette social nods, subtly telling him that she's okay. He purses his pink lips into a solid line, turning his head to spit some venom. "But, hate to break it to ya, red, I wasn't askin' you. I was askin' your pretty friend, here."

"Don't bother," Cherry's eyes grow green with jealous hatred. Scoffing, the upper-class elite, brushes her ginger locks over her right shoulder, mistakingly waving him and Rory off. "She would never affiliate with the likes of you."

"Sherri, please be quiet," Rory reprimands, getting a little frustrated for everyone talking for her. First her ex-boyfriend, then her brother, and now her friend. "I can speak for myself."

"Since when, Rory?" Cherry asks with spite. For the longest time since she's known the youngest Anderson, she's said nothing but a complaint of people not paying attention to her. And in her mind, outcasting the youngest was a right of passage, she deserved it.

Rory swallows the growing cry tightening around her throat; she flutters her eyelids, staring into the bright screening before looking back at the boy she's beginning to favor over everything. "Are you buying?"

Dallas nods, scrunching his nose in a sly grin. He mumbles, "I kinda owe you," in her left ear as he gets up to make his way towards the concession stand. Lowering his voice just for Rory to hear as if to remind her of their shared secret; his lips pressing a soft kiss to the untouched skin behind the ear as if to reward her for keeping his reputation intact.

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RORY'S   REPUTATION BURNS AWAY AS THE   BLUSH ON   HER   FACE GROWS.

"I can't believe you're letting him buy you a drink," Cherry murmurs in annoyance. Her snobby nose held slightly higher, she couldn't even look at the ravenette. She didn't even recognize her from the way Rory was blushing from whatever Dallas said in the shell of her ears.

"If it's any recollection," Ponyboy pipes up, sharing a small, all-knowing smile with Rory, "I certainly can."

"Who are you?" Sherri turns, her bright red strands bouncing off her shoulders. Her green eyes throw poisonous daggers into the unsuspecting boy.

The pale-skinned boy, no older than fourteen, fifteen, shivering in the dark evening. If Rory didn't know any better, she would've pegged him as new in town, underdressed for the bitter temperatures of the normally hot city.

His slicked-back, brown hair curls behind his reddish-tipped ears, his goosebumps running wild up and down his bare arms. He leans forward, teeth slightly chattering as his greyish-green eyes shine brightly under the stars, introducing himself without hesitation— as if he is proud of his family name, Rory wonders what's that's like— "Ponyboy Curtis."

"Oh," Sherri tries to act nice, despite coming off as fake; but lucky for her, Ponyboy doesn't notice it. "That's an original name."

"Yeah, well, my dad was an original person," the teenager grins as a fond memory wave washes onto the short of his cranium. "I got a brother named Sodapop, even says so on his birth certificate."

"My name's Sherri," the redhead smiles warmly, "but my friends call me Cherry, cause of my hair." This sudden act of kindness confuses Rory, who was just subject to aggression and disgust a few seconds prior.

"Yeah, I know," he replies, piquing Rory's interest as he lists off how he knows of them. "We go to the same school. You're a cheerleader, all of y'all are." He looks over to Marcy and then back to Rory, "Marcia Stewart and Lorelei Anderson, am I right?"

The girl with a strawberry grin softly corrects him, "I-It's Rory, actually. No one calls me that."

"Oh, sorry," he apologizes, feeling a bit embarrassed for getting the pretty girl's name wrong, but it soon disperses as Rory tells him that "he's cool." A social called him, the youngest kid in the gang, cool? God, Dallas was right to be enamored by her.

"You don't look old enough to be going to high school?" Marcia asks, curiosity getting the better of her. Cherry nags along, not filtering her mouth and speaking her most privileged parlé. "So, what's a nice boy like you hanging around with that trash?"

"Cherry!" Rory scolds, looking at Ponyboy with apologetic eyes. His lips curve upward in a knowing smile, forgiving Cherry's indiscretion.

"I'm just asking, Rory, relax," Cherry fusses, growing a bit irritated with the girl who supposedly is friendly towards these hoodlums. She wasn't a social more than Cherry could throw her, and this seriously pissed the fiery girl off.

"Dally's my buddy," Ponyboy corrects, his voice tired and angry, like he's been through this scenario too many times already. "I'm a grease, too. We're all friends."

Cherry mumbles an apology, even going as far as saying that she didn't realize. It was a pity excuse. Rory knew. Marcy knew. The redhead just wanted to hear him say it out loud and put a larger target on his back.

As if on cue, Johnnycake returns with his coke, brightening Pony's bitter mood. "Welcome back, Johnny, we were starting to miss ya."

"Miss me? Nah, you got all this nice company here," he laughs, not believing a word coming from his best friend's mouth.

Before he sits down, he continues to stand, looking down to the sweetest social he's known through high school. "Listen, Rory, I-I'm sorry about Dallas, you see. He just can't stop talking about you, I think you got under his skin."

"Oh, don't worry, Johnny. I can handle him," Rory smiles, quietly laughing and blushing as Ponyboy pulls the tanned-skin boy by the sleeve of his jean jacket, complaining that he "couldn't see the movie."

As soon as Johnny sits back down, Dallas reappears with popcorn and four other drinks. Tulsa girl smirks to herself, making eye contact with the Brooklyn boy, mumbling under her breath, "speak of the devil."

Dallas winks at the brunette, handing everyone their respective food and drinks. Standing behind Rory's chair, he hands one to Cherry, commenting something that really ticks her off. "Here, I thought this might cool you off."

Taking the drink from his hand, Cherry watches as Rory and Dallas start to flirt again. Pondering for a moment until her rage is too powerful to handle. Without thinking, she chucks the dark, sticky-sweet drink onto both the social and the greaser. "Maybe that'll cool you off, hood! When you learn to talk and act decent towards us, I might cool off too."

It takes Rory a second to figure out what on Earth just happened because she and Dallas were having a sweet ol' time and now she's drenched in Coca-Cola. Turning to her supposed friend, she yells at the top of her lungs, not bothering to be discreet. "Impeccable fucking aim, Cher! Look what you did!"

"Oops," Cherry shrugs, an evil grin peeking through the sheer accident-prone mask.

Groaning, Dallas wipes off the liquid on his face. Looking down, he curses to himself as Rory's white blouse begins to seep transparent, and too many guys were starting to look. He grabs her by the wrist, (wanting her hand, but he'll settle) and pulls her off the wet seat. "Let's go, doll. I can tell we're not wanted."

"Gladly."

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fez speaking!!

i love them so mucho. i wrote so much lol are you proud??
yes i'm feeding y'all be happy pls.
#DALLORE RULES <33

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