A one-shot I wrote a while ago. Enjoy.

She stared out of the window into the snowy landscape and watched the light from the streetlamps dance along the snowy hills. The window fogged slightly under her breath disrupting her view. Annoyed, her finger rubbed the moisture away to reveal the world outside. The sky was dark with the stars veiled. She liked to think it was because of the clouds and their promise of fresh snow.

"Jane," her companion whispered as his hand sneaked up her back.

She flinched and pulled herself away, towards the window. The light from the nearby city would probably prevent her from seeing the stars anyway. The hand, which she warily watched out of the corner of her eye stopped momentarily, then continued its slow, deliberate, ascent up her back.

"Strad . . . " she hissed.

His hulking form shuffled out of his own seat and shifted closer. He moved in closer and his breath tickled her neck.

"Come on dear, be a sweetie. It's okay . . . It'll be fun. I promise."

The other hand joined the exploration of her back, and she pulled away quickly, looking at him fully. "I said no, Stradlater!"

"You know this is unfair," he replied, but he must have noticed the humiliating tears beginning to form in her eyes because he thankfully pulled back. "You just can't just expect to go on a date and for me to do nothing. It's not fair." He huffed, but settled back into his seat.

A lighter flickered in the dark car and she watched him light his cigarette. He took a puff and looked again at her. "You want one?"

Jane stared at him, biting the inside of her lip. "Yes, please."

Her hand reached out gingerly and she took a delicate puff. Her tense muscles rested against the worn leather car seat and she looked at the cigarette wistfully. It would be nice to relax. It was hard to around boys. They always wanted something, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to give it yet.

Feeling apologetic, she turned back to Stradlater. "Perhaps . . . perhaps we could do something else?"

He grimaced slightly and took another puff on his cigarette. "I guess. It'd be a shame to end the night early."

His hand fumbled around in the dark as he opened the glove compartment and pulled out the keys. The car slowly sputtered to life and the somber mood that had taken hold of them disappeared. She smiled at him shyly, and a wide smile stretched across his face. The car rumbled like a giant beast underneath them, and the rush of freedom lifted their spirits. Jane cranked down the window, enjoying the feeling of the frosty air nipping her nose. She could hear Stradlater cranking down his window and his muffled curses every time it jammed. Before she could settle down in the seat again, the car shot forward, and she let out a scream of joy. Laughter bubbled within her, and she looked at Stradlater who happily honked at a pedestrian.

"You know what we should do," he asked, one hand holding the cigarette and the other scratching his head, "We ought to eat. Good old American food . . . "

He took another puff of his cigarette and quickly grasped the steering wheel to avoid another car, then his hand moved up again in excitement. "I know! Burgers . . . Good old one-hundred percent American burgers! Not any of that commie trash."

Jane smiled as he recklessly turned the corner and wondered if there'd be a cop to worry about later. His childish glee was strangely endearing and reminded her why she had gone out with him in the first place. "Sounds good. With ketchup, mustard, oh and, pickles. Good, old pickles."

Stradlater scoffed, "I know the place, but damn, I'd never ruin a good old Frisky burger with pickles!"

"Oh," she replied in amusement, raising her eyebrows, "what's wrong with cucumbers?"

He looked at her, his confusion apparent. "I'm talking about pickles, not . . . cucumbers!"

She laughed and succumbed to the childish instinct to stick out her tongue. "A pickle is just a tastier cucumber."

He grumbled a bit and focused on the road again as he came to a screeching halt before a signal. "Stupid, idiotic traitors is what they are. You just think it's going to be a nice, juicy and sweet cucumber . . . but oh, oh, no. It's a pickle!"

She laughed as he pulled up into the parking lot and replied teasingly, "We'll have to agree to disagree then."

Wind blew through her hair and the sun beat on her and the checkerboard. Across from her, Holden stared at her visibly amused. "We'll have to agree to disagree then."

"Hey! You coming?" Stradlater yelled as he held the door impatiently.

Embarrassed, she shook her head and ran after him. Together they entered the little burger joint, Frisky's Dinner, where a hostess led them to a table as Stradlater slapped her ass. Jane frowned slightly at his crass behavior. Laughter burst from him uproariously, and he winked at the hostess, then he turned back to Jane and pulled out a chair for her to sit in. He took off his black jacket and hung it on the chair across from her. She let out an unconscious sigh of relief.

Hesitantly, Jane took the menu from the hostess and glanced down at it. Stradlater ignored his menu and instead gazed at her with burning eyes. His hand moved forward to rest on her knee, and she didn't have the energy to protest. Perhaps this date hadn't been her brightest idea ever. How could Holden deal with this guy?

Holden's hand gently brushed against hers as he showed her how to hold the golf club, and he reminded her, "You gotta to keep your eyes open."

A shadow blocked the light on her menu, and she looked up at the waitress, who smiled at them cheerfully. "Can I get you lovebirds anything to drink?"
"I'll be taking a Sierra Mist," Stradlater ordered and then he turned to look at Jane, "What about you dear?"

She glanced at the menu down quickly, scanning the drinks. "I'll take a lemonade. Thank you very much."

"No," her date interrupted, "she'll take the Sierra Mist."

The waitress looked back at her and Jane smiled. "Just a lem-"

"Jane," he hissed, "come on. It's just . . . Please for me? Come on, have a Sierra Mist. It'd make me happy."

She bit her lip slightly and looked back up at the waitress, before murmuring quietly, "A Sierra Mist."

Resigned, her eyes wandered over the menu as she tried to ignore Stradlater's stupid smile. The smile was slight but she felt its power. Oh, she cursed herself for falling for that stupid idiotic smile. That smile seemed like it belonged to a nice man. A person who'd listen to her, consider her interests, but no . . . He just wanted to neck. She had thought he'd be like . . . Holden. Holden had a nice smile and he never pushed her even when she wished he would just take the first step.

It was raining and she was crying as her stepfather left. Holden sat right next to her comforting her and gently covering her in kisses. He never came near her mouth because he knew she was uncomfortable with such actions.

"You said Holden was your roommate?" she queried hesitatingly, seeking to strike up a conversation.

"Not for long, sweetie. Got kicked out of Pencey. Failing all his class, 'cept English of course."

"He likes writing," she replied back with a smile.

Stradlater snorted, "Only reason he's passing 'cause the teacher thinks he's gonna be the next Shakespeare or something. Holden is a idiot though, not like me."

He did that winning smile again and she looked away. "He's smart. I think . . . I think he is just looking for something. We hung out during the summer. Sometimes he just needs a push in the right direction."

Holden laughed as he told her stories about his younger brother. The sky was sunny and she shifted in closer. As she listened to him drone on, she rested her head on his shoulder and part of her wished that he'd take the first step and kiss her.

The waitress set the drinks down on the table and with a quick thank you, Stradlater waved her off. He took a long sip through the straw, and his eyes stared at her, as he gestured for her to drink.

Cringing, she took a small sip. "I know you wanted me to-"

He cut her off quickly and glared at her accusingly. "You're not going to say ya don't like it. Are ya? I got it for you and this stuff is the best."

"I love it," she replied trying to smile as the sweet taste rushed over her taste buds and resisted the urge to gag. "Thank you."

He smiled at her and grabbed her hand. "Good. See, we've something in common. After dinner we should head back to the car. There some-"

"Excuse me," the waitress interrupted, "may I get you darlings something to eat?"

Stradlater grabbed the menu from Jane and handed to the waitress. "Two of your special burgers. No pickles. You got that?"

Jane smiled apologetically at the waitress. "Pickles are okay for mine."

He shook his head vigorously, hissed out, "No," and clenched his hands together. He took a deep breath, collected himself, and turned back to the waitress as if nothing happened. "The young lady doesn't know what she wants."

Jane glared at Stradlater, but she couldn't force herself to voice her protests. Pen scratched on paper and the menus were removed from the table. Her heart hammered in her chest and she saw her hands were trembling slightly as she reached for the wretched drink. The urge to do something, anything, burst through her, but a quick glance at Stradlater quelled it. Sometimes she wanted that strength to say no, to stand up to her stepfather and proclaim that she had enough. The sweet beverage burned as it went down her throat and she coughed slightly in surprise.

Stradlater grabbed her hand again and he smiled at her as if it would be enough for her to submit to all his commands. Maybe Stradlater didn't get everything he wanted, but he was biding his time, waiting to convince her.

"You like burgers?" he asked calmly.

"I guess," she murmured back.

His face fell and she cursed herself for feeling bad. "I hope you ain't mad at me, dear. I just want what's best for you. We good?"

She bit her lip and her head nodded involuntarily. His face burst open with a smile and his hand reached up to his neck, loosening the tie. Then he gingerly kissed her hand.

"I'm in the presence of a lady. Is your scoundrel good enough for you?"

Amusement flickered inside her. "You're ridiculous."
"It works," he replied and leaned closer to her, whispering, "It helps with the ladies. But for you, I'll remain faithful."

Her face heated up and she looked away quickly, not trusting herself. "I'm sure it does."

"It does, but," he laughed slightly, "you know what helps?"

"No, I can't even begin to imagine."

He smirked and leaned in closer. "We go to the car and do . . . well I shouldn't tell you. It'd ruin the surprise."

She scoffed, "No, I doubt it'd be a surprise."

He looked down and bit his lip. "I was going to suggest we just talk. Play checkers. . . I don't know."

Her cheeks flamed and she looked down in embarrassment. "Oh."

He coughed and changed the subject. "What do you like to do?"

"Tennis . . . or writing," she replied back, shrugging.

Snorting, Stradlater wiped his chin and took a sip of his beverage, "Writing . . . Man, you're as bad as Holden. What do you do for fun then?"

"Checkers."

He laughed loudly and continued to chuckle as the waitress brought over the burgers. "You're no good, I bet. Always keeping your queens in the back row, heh?"

"Kings, they're kings," she corrected him and frowned slightly, "How did you know that?"

"Holden told me," he replied easily, "Was so fascinated that I'd be going out with you. Wouldn't stop rambling on and on about you."

"Yeah," she laughed slightly, "that's Holden for you. You know he never wanted to take my pieces. Utterly ridiculous, but that's how we played checkers . . . He was kind."

"You do anything else together besides . . . well . . . checkers."

"Yeah," she smiled fondly, "we played tennis. I beat him every time. He beat me at golf though. I can't golf worth a damn. He also showed me his brother's baseball mit. It was . . . sweet of him."

Stradlater groaned. "Enough about my roommate. You know he's a complete freak. Everything always has to be how he says. And I swear . . . I swear he's doing things just to annoy me!"

She bit into her burger and listened him to rant about Holden. Part of her wanted to defend Holden and his flaws. He cared about things that counted. As Stradlater lied about and ridiculed Holden, she didn't defend him despite her urge. One summer . . . and now her mind couldn't stop thinking about him.

Soon the burger was finished and she looked up startled, as Stradlater yanked her out of the seat. "Dance with me."

She tried to pull her arm back. "I don't feel like dancing."

Stradlater dropped some cash on the table and began to pull her outside. "Come on. I paid for your dinner. I deserve some compensation. We'll start slow. What about a kiss maybe?"

His mouth moved closer to her neck and she could feel his hot breath, as his arms prevented her from pulling away. Memories flashed by and she cried out slightly, her heart hammering.

"Really? You going to play this game?" shouted Stradlater, his eyes angry, "I bought you food, I listened to you. What else gotta a guy like me to do?"

Her hands moved up defensively. "I can't. I just can't . . . Please."

"Come on Jane," a voice whispered and she shut her eyes trying to block everything out.

"Come on. It'll be fun."

"Please. Please stop. Father . . . I don't want to."
She backed away slowly as he approached, "No . . . No . . . Please."

"I'm your father!" He screamed at her and spit flew into her face, "You'll do as I say. You understand."

As his hand grabbed her own and his mouth moved forward in a kiss, she finally found some courage and shoved him back, "No. I cannot do this . . . I just can't."

He snarled, "Fine. But I'm not driving you back. I've wasted enough time and money on you."

He stood there and she knew that she could be the good girl and give him what he wanted. She could turn around, try to enjoy the night like a normal girl. But it wasn't what she wanted, so she walked away. At last, she found the strength to say no.

Her hand raised as she approached the street and hailed a taxi. The driver looked at her disheveled state, but turned to look back at the street. "Where to?"

"The Bussing Hotel," she whispered and look out the window at the snowy landscape as the taxi began to roll forward.

Perhaps . . . No . . . Yet, she had found the strength and before she lost it, she'd do the one thing she wanted. She was done waiting for him to call her.

"Wait, do . . . do you know where . . . Pencey Prep is?"

The driver turned to looked at her oddly, but shrugged, "You're paying for the detour."

It was time to see Holden Caulfield.