medicine. dallas winston - the outsiders

11

THE ELEVENTH CHAPTER ;
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"I'm not fine..." Dallas seemed as if I had challenged his masculinity or something. He puffed out his chest and stood up straighter, tightening his jaw with gritted teeth.

I shrug my shoulders; my face red from my previous statement. "Why'd you wait out here for me?"

"I don't know." He looked down at the ground. He looked as if he had something else to say, but then shook his head and repeated, "I don't know."

"Well, I'm tired." I say with a sigh.

"Yeah, me too, but you can't go home yet."

He looked at me frustratingly, and I continued with my confused looks.

"I didn't sit out here waitin' on you for just one little ol' conversation, man." He suddenly smiled, something that even I knew was rare. A real smile from a boy like him, I mean. "Let me buy ya a coke."

I rose an eyebrow and looked at him. Was it a trick?

Dallas, then, laughed. My stomach had frenzied with butterflies at the sound of the boy's charming laughter. "I'm serious. I ain't got all day though, so come on!"

I let the Greaser take my arm; but that eventually graduated down to him with his fingers interlocked with my own.

There were these little things that I noticed about him just on the short walk to The Dingo. He didn't like making eye contact with me, for a reason I couldn't quite think up. He wasn't a gentleman; but then again he was. I was trying to decide on that one. It probably just depends on how he's feeling during that moment; whether he'd want to watch what he says and how he acts in front of a lady or not. Right now he was acting pretty civilized.

He held my hand all the way there. I tried not to think about how soft his hand felt, and how perfectly my smaller hand seemed to fit in his. I couldn't help but get more butterflies, and once he caught me smiling to myself just because I was blushing and thinking about it.

"Whatcha smiling about?" He gave my hand a light squeeze.

"Nothin'." I say quickly, feeling my cheeks burn even more. I couldn't understand why this Greaser was making me blush like this. (It's not like he's the sweetest and most lovable guy out there. He's the meanest and hardest to get along with!) The other boys flirt around with me all the time and I don't react to it this way.

Dallas seemed unsure of my answer but he shook his head. I wondered all the time—and I still find myself doing it—about what goes on in his head.

We arrived at The Dingo a few moments later. I thought it was humorous how he barely held the door open for me, but the thought was still there.

We walked over to a booth after we checked out the place. Hardly anybody was in here; considering the time of day. Dallas shrugged his shoulders and sat across from me, leaning his elbows on the table.

I set my school books down on the side of the table, and it quickly drew his attention. He picked up my English textbook. I had a custom felt book cover on it–white, with small black roses scattered allover.

"Rose, you like roses?" Dallas whispered as he looked at the cover.

"Yeah." I say simply, nodding my head at him.

Roses have always been my flower. It's partly the reason why I like to go by my middle name and not Kimberly. Roses are beautiful to look at, and the black ones are my absolute favorite.

"What is this book?" He says, a small straight line forming on his forehead due to furrowing his eyebrows.

"It's my English text book." I inform him, "Ponyboy's got one just like it."

"Oh. Yeah?" Dallas opened it up and smirked when he looked at the page with my name printed on it. I couldn't understand why he smirked like that.

"Do you have a lot of–uh, homework?" He put my book down on the table but flipped through the pages. I watched to make sure he didn't tear any of them, but, answered:

"Yeah, I do actually." I say with a sigh.

"Make Pony do it for ya, man." He said, looking at me with a small grin. "That's what I would do."

I couldn't help but laugh at him. I shook my head, "No, I can do it on my own, it's just a lot of work."

I thought for a moment about how Dallas wasn't in school. He obviously wasn't that old; so I just assumed he was a drop out or something of that nature. It made sense–I hated to say.

Dallas died down on questioning me about school once a waitress got to our table. Being from this side of town, she wore casual clothing. She was quite a pretty woman, though. Maybe Darry's age.

"Can I get y'all something or are you just gonna sit here all day?" She said casually. She looked at Dallas and smiled, barely even glancing my way.

"Yeah, doll." Dallas smirks at her. My heart sank low into my stomach. (Again. I didn't know why. It was obvious to me greasy boys like Dallas were big flirts. I wasn't jealous at all, though. That's what a I was telling myself, and believing.)

"We'll take two root-beer floats." Dallas said looking up at the woman, though, not in her eyes.

She smiled at him again before glancing at me. She sure was a pretty little thing. "This your girlfriend?" Her voice had more of a country twang in it than most of the people around here, which was odd. Mine wasn't as bad as what it could've been; I grew up in the Hollywood scene, not here in Tulsa like I wish I'd had.