♡ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜱᴀʏ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ♡

2 1

We all laughed before Pony looked at me. He stared at me for a few seconds before looking at Johnny, then back to me. He did this for an uncomfortably long time before turning his eyes to the TV and sighing.

"What?" I asked, silently hoping Johnny and I didn't do anything that gave us away.

"Nothin'," he said as he shrugged. He bit his lip as if trying to hold back a smile.

"Pony, what is it?"

"Nothing, Cary. Really."

I just looked at him. By the mischievous glimmer in his eyes, it most definitely wasn't 'nothing', but I knew he wouldn't tell me no matter how much I tried, so I let it alone.

After the movie was finished, I looked at the clock and saw that it was almost four. Darry and Soda would be home in about an hour, so I decided it was time I made dinner. To be honest, I didn't really feel like it, but I was tired of sitting around doing nothing. Though, I did let Johnny help me when he offered. We made Texas Hash: a relatively easy and insanely cheap dish that Mom would make all the time when we were younger. It was comfort food, if you will, and I needed as much comfort as I could get.

While I stood at the stove and cooked the ground beef, Johnny mixed everything else together beside me. Occasionally, when I would ask him to sprinkle a few seasonings into the beef, he would graze his hand against mine and smile while he looked into my eyes. I never knew Johnny to be one for being flirty, but oh, did it make me blush. But when Darry and Soda came home, he got really tense before I put a hand on his arm and gently looked at him. He eased up a bit, but I could tell his heart was going a million miles an hour.

"How are you feeling?" Darry asked as he came into the kitchen after I pulled the casserole pan out of the oven.

"Better. Two-Bit got me some strong stuff." My stomach had been twisting and growling for the past few hours, and I couldn't figure out if it was because of the medicine or the fact I hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon.

He smiled. "Good." He looked at the casserole pan in my mitted hands. "You didn't have to cook, you know."

I shrugged as I started walking to the dinner table. "I was tired of doing nothing all day. Plus, I'm feeling better."

"I can tell," he said as he followed me out of the kitchen.

Two-Bit decided to eat with us that night upon finding out I made my mother's favorite dish. It was one of his comfort foods, too.

While we ate, there was a knock on the door. I thought it was weird, because none of the other guys would even think to knock and would just walk in. Still, I stood up from my chair and went to answer it. My heart skipped a beat as I reached for the door handle, praying it wasn't the people from the state coming to check our house. It was in no condition to be examined.

But when I opened the door, I saw none other than Violet, my loudmouth coworker, standing on the doormat timidly. Her golden-blonde wringlets were pulled into a ponytail behind her, a few pieces falling around her sandy-skinned face with rosy cheeks and light freckles that were sprinkled along her nose. She was still in her work uniform, so she must have come straight from the diner. Apart from her somewhat put-together appearance, her bright green eyes were frazzled and panicked.

That was what scared me. Violet never came to my house, never kept her work uniform on longer than she needed to, never stood like a scared little girl, and never—and I mean never—had a look of panic in her eyes. Even when Linda had a scare she was going to lose the diner after her husband died. Even when half of our wait staff quit. Even when the police came to arrest the drunkard who started a fight at the diner. Violet was the poster child for being strong when something bad happened.