Chapter Twenty-Two

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"We should all get ready. Diana, do you have to work today?" Darry asked me.

"Uh... Yeah, I have to be at the store by four," I said, a little nervously. He still wouldn't meet my eyes; obviously, he was embarrassed. I decided to keep the fact that we had spent the night together in the same bed a secret.

He barked out a laugh and shook his head. "You know, last night, I had the weirdest dream. I thought you were right in bed next to me."

I gulped. This was not a good start. "Huh, that's strange," I squeaked. Pony shot me a look.

"You didn't," he growled, sounding unnaturally like his older brother. Darry looked up at me, startled.

"We didn't..." he began nervously.

"No, I was on the couch the whole night," I lied, but my voice was a little too high for it to seem believable. Darry leaned back and groaned as Pony slapped a hand to his forehead.

"Tell me exactly what happened," Darry said defeatedly. "If I even want to know."

"I helped you to bed. That's it," I tried to lie again.

"Don't lie, Diana. Why didn't you just leave? Why did you give in?" Pony's chin was lifted in a challenge, and my chest constricted angrily. Did he want me to admit why I'd really done it, and risk Darry's rejection? Sure, my hope had risen ever since last night, but I still didn't know for sure how Darry felt, and I wasn't sure I wanted to find out.

"I'm not lying," I said coldly. My heart was pounding. Pony didn't back down at all; it was so frustratingly annoying that I stood up and walked out of the room.

Neither one of them followed me.

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I didn't speak to Ponyboy for the rest of the day. I was so angry at him for trying to expose me, and most of all I didn't understand why he was trying to sabotage me like that, especially since I had confided in him and expected him to keep my secret. I was hurt that he had betrayed me like that. Stubborn as a mule on a hot day, he refused to talk to me either. Darry still had no idea what had happened or what was going on. He was hopeless.

He had to drive me to work at four, and the drive over there was awkward, to say the least. He kept glancing at me, which made the drive scary as he kept swerving and slamming on the brakes. I tried to ignore him, but every time I felt his eyes on me my heart ached. I was too ashamed to meet his gaze. I bit my lip and stared out the window, my head pounding, my chest tight. 

"Are you alright?" he asked me finally. I gave a slight start at the sound of his voice; like always, it made my entire chest cavity fill with warmth.

"I'm fine," I said shortly.

I felt his eyes send two minty spears into the side of my head. "No, you're not. What happened last night? What did I- did I do something? To you?" he asked. His voice was full of fear, and I slowly looked up at him.

"No, of course not," I said, my tone softening. "Nothing happened. You did nothing."

"I think you're lying." The words were harsh but his tone was not.

"I-" I glanced away from him again. I owed him the truth, but I was worried what he would think of me. "Alright, so you... I... we..."

"What did we do?"

"After you yelled at Steve, you did the same thing... you pulled me on your lap. And then I helped you to bed. You uh... you... asked me to stay. In bed with you," I muttered shamefacedly, staring at my feet.

"I what?" he exclaimed, sounding abashed and disbelieving. "And did you... well, did you stay?"

I cringed at the accusatory sentence. "Well... yes?"

"Why?"

This was the question I had been dreading. I didn't want to pour out my whole heart for him in this moment, not when it was guaranteed to go wrong. I sucked in a desperate gasp of breath, my heart beating uncontrollably fast. He surely heard it thrumming in my chest. "I don't know," I replied softly.

I felt his eyes on me again, but the gaze was soft and soothing, like a quiet winter breeze skating across the back of my neck. He didn't say anything to me, though his silence spoke volumes. It was a simple quiet, not angry or accusing or revolted or any of the things I had expected it to be. It was almost... satisfied, like my response had been hoped for and then received. Yet there was still a hint of embarrassment and awkwardness that gave the atmosphere a subtle twang. He was slightly ashamed at the way he had acted, I read in the air. He was glad I had stayed. 

He was glad I had stayed.

I allowed myself to imagine, for a second, that Darry might possibly have returned my feelings, and that he felt that same wild passion for me that I felt for him. But I assumed, with Darry, that passion was quieter. He didn't have that same uncontrollable desire that I felt burn deep in my chest and spread throughout my entire body. He was older, wiser, and more in control of himself. I admired that about him. 

I glanced up and studied him, my gaze sweeping across his sharp jaw and finely molded features, all the way from his chin to the adorable cowlick at the top of his head. I felt my flaming passion burn down into a concentrated ember right at my heart. Right where he would always be.

We pulled up in front of the storefront, and I swung open the door to get out. Just as I was about to slam the door shut, he looked me right in the eyes.

"I think you know why you stayed," he said, his voice more gentle than I had ever heard it. Then, his ice eyes melting a bit in the sun, he drove away.


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