Author's Note: I'm not really sure why I started this, or where it's going, but I like it. I've had so many Darry story ideas in my head lately, and it feels good to get them out. I left the girl undescribed and nameless – just because I think it's too far gone to paint her picture now. There may be one more shot at this, as in 'chapter three', but I don't know. I'm going to try and work on it but as of right now I haven't started, and I'm going to keep it as 'completed' just in case. For those of you who don't know, I'm pretty inconsistent when it comes to submitting (I'm my own worst enemy). Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Wait

Chapter Two

"You're WHAT?" He bellowed. She couldn't even hide the shock. He looked ready to kill, and she couldn't fathom what the hell his problem was.

…

It was a normal morning off of work for her. She laid in bed for as long as possible, far underneath her heavy duvet with her fuzzy sheets keeping the heat in. It was the dead middle of winter and she couldn't afford to turn the heat up much further than it already was, if she wanted to wash clothes tomorrow. It didn't help that she didn't have enough on her bones to keep the chill away.

Granted it didn't get as cold as it could, and did in other places around the world, but Tulsa still got pretty chilled in the nights.

Her bladder was begging her to get up, but she just couldn't find the energy. Waitressing had proven to be one of the most grueling tasks she ever had to do. And waitressing full time, to her, was like a death sentence. Her feet ached, she didn't like people, and she was almost certain her uniform had a permanent greasy smell. Hell is the only word she could find to describe it.

She had her old, decaying blanket pulled in tightly to her chest. It was an old purple thing, almost threadbare. There was a big stain of dark purple nail polish on it from when she had been a kid, and it reminded her of simpler days. It had been a security to her from the beginning, and she saw no harm in still holding it dearly. She hated being alone in the huge old house.

Though old, the house was in no means dirty. She had taken care of that when her deadbeat parents fled a few years ago. She had never agreed to living in a pigsty – her room was always the cleanest in the house. She didn't have much but she made sure that every window and trim was shining. Dishes were done the same hour they were used, and she had already killed a vacuum from obsessively trying to get rid of the marks her parents left on the poor old house.

Thankfully they couldn't take much furniture when they left. She had all the essentials, everything that someone would need to live comfortably, like a sofa, a bookcase, a bed. She had no cable but she made sure to pay the bill for the phone every month – she felt like that was something she couldn't possibly give up.

Darry called her on the phone.

Groaning, she tucked herself further into the mounds of quilts. Darry Curtis was a real thorn in her side. Their situation was far from normal, and it was an understatement to say she was confused.

He called sometimes to come over, and that she was fine with. She liked those calls. But lately he was calling just to talk. One evening his brothers were out and he called her and they talked for three hours. She couldn't even muster up the courage to tell him that it was costing her a fortune – she wanted to hear his voice for as long as she could.

It was becoming real problematic.

They couldn't be together and she got that. Got it real good – she wasn't stupid. She didn't ask him for anything that she knew he wouldn't be willing to give. Hell, she wasn't willing to give him anything either. The whole situation was supposed to be an emotionless one, but she admitted it.

She admitted it, alright? Even in the emotionless depths of her heart, she knew.

She was in love with fucking Curtis.

…

"You're WHAT?" He bellowed. She couldn't even hide the shock. He looked ready to kill, and she couldn't fathom what the hell his problem was.

"Look Darry, we ain't together. We're not even thinking about ever being together. What's your problem here?"

He ran his large paws through his wispy hair – there was no grease. They had just gotten out of the shower together and he hadn't had the time nor energy to put it back in. He was looking beyond disheveled, panic clear on his features. "You can't go on that date, you can't."

She was known to have a temper, and this man standing in front of her was treading waters that were not okay with her. No one told her what to do – the two people who had the privilege to do that walked out years ago. She wasn't taking any steps back from what she built herself.

"I ain't your girl, Darry. You can't tell me what to do."

She was firm, and he was looking at her hysterically. He shut his trap though, because he knew that she wouldn't hear him out at all. He was a smart man.

"Fine. You do you, and I'll do me from now on."

He grabbed his coat off the hanger by the door, and went for the door. If she had of just shut her damn mouth, if she had of just let him walk out that door than that would be it. He wouldn't call her on the phone anymore, he wouldn't ask if it was a good time to come over. He'd be gone, and that's something that she wasn't ready to deal with yet.

"Darry, wait!" He spun around, fury in his cold blue eyes, hand still securely on the doorknob. They were normally so warm to her, she could get lost in the ocean of his eyes. It hurt her deep down that he looked at her like she was nothing at that moment. It hurt real bad. "I won't. I won't go tonight, don't leave."

"You ain't my girl."

…

She didn't go on that date with one of those Brumly boys. She couldn't even remember the guy's name – it had been Sylvia's doing, of course. She found it harder and harder to say no to her best friend from high school lately, with the death of Winston looming in every conversation they had.

No one else saw that side to Sylvia; the wracking sobs, the sleepless nights, the obsession of anything alcoholic. It was only her that knew just how much Dallas dying screwed her up. She didn't know how much her best friend loved that delinquent, because they were never going steady.

But then again, neither were her and Darry.

He stormed out of her place that evening and she hadn't heard from him since. It had only been two days but it felt like a lifetime, knowing he was upset with her. Had she known he'd take it so personally, she wouldn't have told him.

Sure, she liked to put up a front, but in the end she would've listened to him. Hell, she did listen to him and he wasn't even around at the moment. She wasn't quite sure if he would ever be around again, to be completely honest with herself.

It stung.

She had almost picked up the phone to call his house on a few occasions, but then realized that if one of his brothers answered she wouldn't know what to do. She couldn't possibly ask for Darry…

She jumped out of bed, ignoring the cold air prickling her skin as she made a mad dash for the phone, skipping steps on the way downstairs. She was lucky she didn't do a face plant at the landing of the twenty odd stairs, she was acting like a maniac.

It was only early, but today was Sunday – she knew he would be home cooking breakfast for his brothers. It was quite brazen of her, but she picked up the phone and hit the number she had saved.

It only rang twice before a noticeably younger Curtis answered. "Curtis residence."

It must have been Ponyboy, she decided. Listening to Darry's stories about his brothers was absolutely comical; she clung on to every word. Growing up an only child made listening to his stories even better, and she was pretty sure she knew more about them than they did themselves; for never meeting them before that is. She didn't think Soda would have answered the telephone with such politeness, but she could be wrong.

"Hello. State attorney here. Could I speak to Mr. Darrell Curtis, please?"

It was a long shot, but she was taking it.

"Yes ma'am, one second please." She felt awful the moment she heard the fear in his voice. It wasn't fair to let the poor kid think there was a problem, but she was being selfish. She needed to hear his voice one last time, even if he hung up after saying hello.

She heard the rustling of the phone being put down and picked back up again.

She was going to Hell.

"Hello?"

At the sound of his voice she froze. Her insides melted and suddenly she didn't feel the cold morning air in the old house. "Hey Darry."

He must have also frozen at the sound of her voice because he didn't respond.

She panicked.

"I know I shouldn't have called you at home, but I told whatever brother answered the phone that I was a State attorney."

Silence.

She continued, because she honestly didn't know what else to do. "It was Ponyboy, right? Very polite."

He cleared his throat as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Yeah, it was Ponyboy."

She could almost see the younger boy perk up and look at his older brother. She shouldn't have called, she caught him off guard. She was going to be disappointed by his reaction, and she knew it.

"I'm glad you called." She almost dropped the phone as he continued. "I can be there in an hour."

She could faintly hear Ponyboy question his brother, but she was much too ecstatic to really care what story he would have to come up with. He was coming over, and even if it was to tell her to never call again, it would be something.

"I'll see you then."

They both hung up at the same time, and she danced around the kitchen until her bladder really couldn't hang on any longer.

…

An hour later, like promised, he stormed in without knocking. It startled her, and she let out a little yelp as he threw his jacket and shoes off in a frenzy. He hurriedly made his way to the kitchen where she was standing washing her plate from breakfast. He didn't even give her time to dry her soapy hands off before he grabbed her, pinning her up against the counter.

He kissed her soundly before grabbing her face in between his two rough, calloused hands. "Don't you ever say you're going on a date with someone else again."

Floating, the feeling she had right now absolutely weightless. The only thing she could do was nod her head, so relieved that she could cry.

"I'm sorry I left, I just couldn't stand the thought of you with someone else," he whispered, his calloused hands were still around her heart shaped face. She drank in his appearance and what he was saying to her – even in her wildest dreams she wouldn't have imagined this. He looked solemn, sad almost; and it took everything she had to not devour him right there in her kitchen.

"I didn't go, I'm sorry too."

He let go of her face, standing only a few inches away. He broke the eye contact that they had had since he stormed in without knocking, looking down. He had his two hands on the counter on either side of her, comfortably pinning her. She stood watching his actions, he was being much different than the brash Darry she had come to know. The one who would knock at her door, and then take no time in ravishing her… the Darry standing in front of her looked broken.

"I can't sneak around with you anymore."

The silence was overbearing, smothering.

She was standing in her own kitchen but she needed to get away. She needed to get as far away from him as she could. Who was he to storm in here and make her believe that everything was okay? That nothing between them was going to change?

She threw the balled up dishcloth she was welding across the room, gathering all the courage she had to push him away, his broad chest making her hands look puny. She knew that if he was the type to rough up woman that she would stand absolutely no chance.

But she wasn't afraid, not of him.

"Then get the fuck out of my house." It was harsh, it was cold – it was everything that someone might expect of her. She wasn't exactly the most loveable person on the planet. Her parents left her for heaven's sake, she wasn't worthy of the affection he had already shown her. This was long overdue, and if she was going down, she was taking her dignity with her.

He looked at her like she had three heads.

"Would you just WAIT for a second before you go jumping to conclusions?" He asked of her, and she knew she was being irrational but she couldn't help herself. This needed to end and it needed to end now.

"Leave, Curtis."

He grabbed her wrists, but not hard. If she really wanted to get away from him, he would have let her push him away. But she wasn't going anywhere; they both knew that.

"Look," he started. "I ain't ready to bring you home yet, my brothers are still pretty messed up. Ponyboy won't eat nothing because whatever I cook ain't like Ma's, Soda is heartbroken over some little broad who got knocked up with someone else's kid, and we just lost two guys from the gang. But honey, you're my girl."

He put real ownership on his girl, she noticed. She wasn't ever anyone's girl before, and the feeling felt foreign. She didn't know what to say, and when she said nothing he backpedaled.

"I mean, if I didn't already screw this up."

She rolled her eyes at him.

"I'll be your girl, Curtis. So long as I'm the only girl." It was weak, and she chastised herself for looking so small to him. Her insecurities sure did shine through, but she figured it was a pretty intimate moment and he wouldn't call her out on it.

He smiled, lifting her chin up to meet his gaze. "You were always the only girl."

Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you thought in a review. Like I said, there may be a chapter three, so if you're interested make sure to follow!