“I can’t believe you have to work on New Year’s Eve.” Ponyboy mumbles.
You give him a quick kiss on the cheek as you head towards the door. “I know, but I’ll be paid extra for working tonight.”
“Waiting tables?” He snorts.
You roll your eyes. “Well it is a holiday.” Not knowing what else to say about your profession, you add, “Lots of people go out tonight.”
“Can I visit you to get a New Year’s kiss?” He asks as you turn the doorknob to the front door.
You stop. You didn’t want him coming to see where you worked. “No,” you say quietly.
“Why not?”
“Just… No.” You say, and leave.
******************
The bass pounded, the colored lights flashed.
You glance at the clock. Only 11:50. Another couple hours in this whore house.
Stripping wasn’t how you’d picture your future to be. It sorta just happened. You were desperate for money, and you apparently had the sex appeal for it.
You take a look in the bathroom mirror, your hair all curly, and your wearing this black leather and fishnet ensemble.
“You look so slutty.” You think to yourself.
What would Ponyboy think?
He’d be so disappointed in you.
And you just want to break down and cry, knowing how upset he’d be.
You fight back tears, not wanting to ruin your eyeliner and mascara.
You quickly compose yourself, you were on in 5.
You walk backstage in a daze, not really concentrating, ready just to be another pretty face and body for men to stare at.
The lights go dark on the stage, your cue to take your place at your pole, the one on the stage right.
The music starts, and the lights go up. You feel the beat, starting to slide down the pole.
As you turn around, kicking up your leg, you see him.
You see him, standing at the entrance, the look on his face killing you.
You instantly let go of the pole, stand up, and look at him, eyes starting to water.
“Bitch, get back to dancing!” Some drunk yells at you, but you ignore him, biting your lip to keep from sobbing.
You see him mouth something. At first you can’t make it out, but then you realize he’s saying: “I’m sorry.”
You shake your head, letting him know it’s not his fault.
He starts walking towards you, making his way through the crowd of men.
You hop off the stage, making your way towards him, as fast as your high heeled boots would carry you.
You run into his arms, which immediately wrap around you, pulling you close. “I’m sorry.” He whispers. “I’m so sorry.”
You can’t help it now, the tears start to flow.
He pulls away, holding your face in your hands, trying to hold back tears himself. “You’re going to quit, alright? I’ll support you, I swear. We’ll find you a real job, and everything will be fine. I promise.”
All you can do is cry and nod, make up running down your face.
“5, 4, 3, 2-” the crowd counts down to signal the new year.
And his lips crash into yours.
“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” The club roars.
“This year will be different.” You sniffle.
You give him a quick kiss on the cheek as you head towards the door. “I know, but I’ll be paid extra for working tonight.”
“Waiting tables?” He snorts.
You roll your eyes. “Well it is a holiday.” Not knowing what else to say about your profession, you add, “Lots of people go out tonight.”
“Can I visit you to get a New Year’s kiss?” He asks as you turn the doorknob to the front door.
You stop. You didn’t want him coming to see where you worked. “No,” you say quietly.
“Why not?”
“Just… No.” You say, and leave.
******************
The bass pounded, the colored lights flashed.
You glance at the clock. Only 11:50. Another couple hours in this whore house.
Stripping wasn’t how you’d picture your future to be. It sorta just happened. You were desperate for money, and you apparently had the sex appeal for it.
You take a look in the bathroom mirror, your hair all curly, and your wearing this black leather and fishnet ensemble.
“You look so slutty.” You think to yourself.
What would Ponyboy think?
He’d be so disappointed in you.
And you just want to break down and cry, knowing how upset he’d be.
You fight back tears, not wanting to ruin your eyeliner and mascara.
You quickly compose yourself, you were on in 5.
You walk backstage in a daze, not really concentrating, ready just to be another pretty face and body for men to stare at.
The lights go dark on the stage, your cue to take your place at your pole, the one on the stage right.
The music starts, and the lights go up. You feel the beat, starting to slide down the pole.
As you turn around, kicking up your leg, you see him.
You see him, standing at the entrance, the look on his face killing you.
You instantly let go of the pole, stand up, and look at him, eyes starting to water.
“Bitch, get back to dancing!” Some drunk yells at you, but you ignore him, biting your lip to keep from sobbing.
You see him mouth something. At first you can’t make it out, but then you realize he’s saying: “I’m sorry.”
You shake your head, letting him know it’s not his fault.
He starts walking towards you, making his way through the crowd of men.
You hop off the stage, making your way towards him, as fast as your high heeled boots would carry you.
You run into his arms, which immediately wrap around you, pulling you close. “I’m sorry.” He whispers. “I’m so sorry.”
You can’t help it now, the tears start to flow.
He pulls away, holding your face in your hands, trying to hold back tears himself. “You’re going to quit, alright? I’ll support you, I swear. We’ll find you a real job, and everything will be fine. I promise.”
All you can do is cry and nod, make up running down your face.
“5, 4, 3, 2-” the crowd counts down to signal the new year.
And his lips crash into yours.
“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” The club roars.
“This year will be different.” You sniffle.
IN PICTURES
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Darry and Dally looked at (Y/N) from the couch. She was talking with Soda on the front porch, smiling, laughing at what he said. They both thought you had a beautiful laugh, and that you were completely adorable.
Darry was jealous of Soda, he thought he could take better care of you, provide a better life.
Dally thought he could protect you more, and love you better.
Their hearts both broke as Soda leaned down to kiss you.
Darry and Dally looked at (Y/N) from the couch. She was talking with Soda on the front porch, smiling, laughing at what he said. They both thought you had a beautiful laugh, and that you were completely adorable.
Darry was jealous of Soda, he thought he could take better care of you, provide a better life.
Dally thought he could protect you more, and love you better.
Their hearts both broke as Soda leaned down to kiss you.
You groan and turn over. You had the flu. You were really sore,tired, and cold. You thought nothing could make you feel better.
“Hey, (Y/N), you hungry?” Your boyfriend Soda asks from the doorway.
You shake your head. “I’m just cold.” You sniffle.
“Well that can be fixed.” He says smiling.
He gets onto the bed, and snuggles close to you, and puts all the blankets on top of you.
“Soda, you’re gonna get sick and…”
“I don’t care… All I care about is you, and that you’re gonna feel better.”
The cars zoomed by.
“This makes me so nervous.” you say.
“Why?” Soda asks, smiling.
“What if the cars blow up, and we die? Or what if they crash? Or-“
“Hey it’s going to be fine,” He interrupts you. “Have some popcorn.”
“But what if I’m eating popcorn and the cars blow up and we die?”
“Then I’ll blow up and die eating popcorn with the girl I love.”
And he kisses you on the lips.
“Darry, how do you feel about kids?” You ask.
“About having kids?” He asked. You were nervous.
“Yeah.”
“I’ve never told anyone this really… But it’s been my goal in life to be a better father figure than I ever was to Soda or Ponyboy… I thought I did a good job, but I know I could’ve done better.” He scratches his neck. “So yeah I’d want to have kids.”
“Well that’s good.” You smile.
“Why?” He asks. “You aren’t…” He starts, but then looks at you. “You are aren’t you?” His smile lights up the whole room.
You nod your head. He picks you up in a big bear hug.
