WE DIDN'T MAKE ANY PLANS for New Year's Eve. Usually, we would find a party or go somewhere cheap to eat, but funds were just too tight. We would just have to make do with cheap beer and TV. When it finally came, I was sitting on the couch reading the book I got from Johnny for Christmas when the stomping of boots awoke me from my focus. It was mid-afternoon, so I was surprised that nobody had come earlier. The door opened and in walked Two-Bit, grinning ear to ear.
"Y'all get dressed, we're going out." He said, waving a twenty dollar bill in the air. Though it was a little tattered, I eyed it with concern. I looked at him with a cocked eyebrow, and upon realizing my suspicions, he laughed. "Naw, I didn't steal it."
"Where we going?" Ponyboy piped up from the armchair next to me, scribbling something in his notebook.
"Bowling," Two-Bit stated matter-of-factly.
"Bowling?" I questioned.
"Yes'm," he adjusted the toothpick between his lips, "Mama asked me to give all Dad's stuff away, but saw this stuck in a book and thought, well, shoot." He pouted his bottom lip and examined the bill in exaggerated consideration. "Guess the old man left me some inheritance after all."
My heart sank a little at the mention of Two-Bit's mother. She was a sweet, hardworking woman who often picked up extra shifts as a bartender to help provide for him and his little sister. I'd only talked to either of them a handful of times, but I remember they were always kind. His dad left them when they were both little, along with some of his belongings, evidently. His mom was always too hurt to mention it, but I suppose she eventually got over it somewhat if she asked Two-Bit to give it all away. I doubt Two would've had any trouble doing so, but he wouldn't pass up a few bucks.
"Who all's goin'?" Johnny piped up, stepping out of the kitchen with a piece of chocolate cake leftover from Christmas. Honestly, it was a miracle it survived the weekend.
"Whoever wants to," he said, again waving the twenty dollar bill in the air, "I'm payin'."
Within the next hour, we were all piling into Darry's truck or Two-Bit's rust bucket and were off to the bowling alley. It was the first time in what seemed like months — probably before Mom and Dad died — when we were all together.
I didn't count the diner after Jonathan's trial. I had anything but fun there.
The bowling alley was surprisingly empty for New Year's Eve: only about five other lanes were taken up.
The eight of us easily took up two lanes: Darry, Two-Bit, Steve, and Soda on one; Dally, Johnny, Ponyboy, and I on the other. It was one of those rare days I wore jeans and sneakers — I imagine it would've been pretty hard to bowl in a skirt and Mary Jane's.
Although it had been ages since any of us had been bowling, it seemed that Darry and Dally were the best at it. No surprise there — Darry was good at basically any sport he did and Dally was, well, Dally. The two of them easily racked up points in the hundreds, while the rest of us were stuck in the double digits. Poor Steve did the worst: by the time the first game was done, he only had about sixty points.
Instead of competing against their own lanes, the two of them found themselves comparing each other's scores from across the lane.
"Dare, what's your score?"
"One-sixteen." Darry said matter-of-factly, failing miserably to hide his pride.
"Agh," Dally complained, "I'll get you next round."
After both groups had finished their games, we were all packing up to go until Two-Bit stopped us. "Where y'all in a hurry to? I still got 15 bucks!"
We happily obliged as he strutted up to the front desk to pay for another round of games.
Johnny slouched in the chair beside me, his jean jacket laid haphazardly across the table. He smiled, wiping his forehead with a napkin. "Gee, I'm sweating like a mug over here." He looked at me. "How you keepin' your hair lookin' so nice?" He ran his fingers through his own. "It's like a rat's nest up here."
I chuckled. "I dunno, skill?"
He smirked as he put a water bottle to his lips. As I watched him, I realized it'd been a good while since I'd kissed them. I felt my heart pound with longing. I looked at him: sweaty, but happy. His eyes glimmered with laughter as he watched Darry and Dally continue to argue over who really won the last round, despite the both of them smashing their respective opponents by almost a hundred points each.
He slouched in his seat, his posture without bother for propriety or care for decency. He leaned both of his arms behind the seats beside him, leaning his head back as he soaked in the air conditioning from the fan above us. I'll never forget his face: it was peaceful, calm — even happy.
It seemed, for the first time in forever, that he'd finally let loose, even if just for a moment.
I peered over my shoulder to see Two-Bit gallivanting back with a little less cash but a little more smile.
"Who's ready for another game, huh?"
Everyone murmured their agreement, Darry and Dally eyeing each other. I chortled at their amusing absurdity.
With every round, we all got more and more tired. The hours ticked by, and soon, it was dinner time. Two-Bit, still boasting ten bucks, bought pizza and water for everyone, still having enough for one more game.
By the end of the third game, I was exhausted, but excited for another final game. Two-Bit again went up to pay, and the rest of them opted to the bathroom for a quick splash of water to the face. I was almost on my way, when a familiar voice stopped me in my tracks.
"Hey." I turned around, finding the source of the voice instantly "Long time no see."
I smiled. "Hey, Nathan!" I looked around for his party, but upon not seeing anyone who seemed his like, I asked, "what are you doing here?"
I felt real stupid whenever he pointed to his shirt, the bowling alley crest embroidered over his heart. "Working."
"Oh," I said, creasing my eyebrows, "I didn't know you had a job?"
He chuckled. "Yeah, parents suggested I do to start making my own money before college." He continued as if assuming my train of thought. "They don't just hand me my money."
I smiled. Yet another reason why Nathan was different from the other Socs. Why he wasn't a Soc. "That's really cool, Nathan." I cringed at how cheesy I sounded, but I was genuinely shocked and pleasantly surprised to see someone seemingly so much higher than me on the ladder rungs pulling some of the same weight that I was, despite the fact that it was for entirely different reasons.
Nathan didn't seem bothered though, instead smiled his genuine smile, leaning on the wooden divider between the alley and the main floor. I'd admitted it before and I'll say it again: Nathan was handsome. Very handsome. But I never found myself attracted to him. Whether it was the fact that we had barely anything in common or simply the difference in where we lived, I never knew why. Not that I cared, anyway. I had Johnny: all that I needed, and more than I could ask for. I had decided a long time ago that Nathan was simply a friend for when I needed an ally in high places. I hated thinking that way, though: it made me feel like I was using him, and a user I was not.
An acquaintance. There. Simply someone to say "hi" to in passing in the halls or in happenstance meetings like the present. Nothing more, nothing less. And I was happy with that.
A few seconds of silence passed between us, slightly awkward, despite us knowing each other for months at this point. He nervously rubbed the back of his neck, only getting out a few words before he was interrupted.
"So, Cary—"
"Cary, you coming?" I felt a hand land on my shoulder and turned around. I was shocked to see that the guys had already come back and were setting up their lanes for the final game. Johnny had his hand on my shoulder. "Howdy, sir." He nodded in Nathan's direction, giving a thin smile. Nathan returned the gesture as I answered Johnny's question.
"Yeah, give me a sec."
A strange expression flashed across Johnny's face, one that I couldn't quite read before he returned to his normal self. "Alright, don't take too long, now." He winked. "I'll be waiting." His tone was slightly seductive, the way he talked to me only when we were alone.
Huh, I thought, oddly flirty for it being in public.
I turned back to Nathan, who was looking quite bummed. "Well, I guess I'm being called. I guess I'll see you in a few days?"
He smiled. "Yeah, guess so." I began to walk away before he said something else. "Y'all have fun." I turned to look at him, his face a strange mixture of realization and hurt.
I nodded in thanks, and turned back towards the alley. Despite the distance I was putting between us, I felt his eyes on me the whole time, and by the time I finally sat down next to Johnny, I saw, out of the corner of my eye, that he was finally leaving, moping back to his place at the ticket booth.
I thought it odd how he was acting, but forgot about it by the time we started the last game.
Though we were all having fun, every time I would look at Johnny, I would see a bitter film over his eyes, as if my interaction with Nathan had soured him. A snippet from my time in the hospital a few months back flashed across my mind and my stomach dropped:
Nathan. From the drive-in.
Oh yeah, the good Soc?
The one Cary's crazy about?
Suddenly, the expression that flashed across Johnny's face earlier made sense to me: brooding. I looked at him again. Still, the same expression, covered by a translucent layer of joy.
How could I have been such an idiot? This was all my fault, wasn't it?
Whenever he sat down from a bowl, I caught him without his happy facade. His raw emotions pricked my heart: jealousy, a hint of anger, and hurt.
I should've known about Johnny's attitude towards Nathan, but he had no reason to be jealous now. I was his — officially, publicly, solely Johnny's girl. Didn't he know I wanted nothing more?
I tried my best to enjoy the rest of the game, but Johnny's unrelenting presence in my mind pestered me.
By the time we were done and headed to the parking lot, I heard Nathan from across the ticket booth: "See ya, Cary!"
I gave him a half-hearted wave, one that felt laced with betrayal — both to Johnny and Nathan — before turning back towards the guys.
From the corner of my eye, I caught Johnny throwing him an out-of-character glare from next to Dally. I tried my best to get his eye contact, maybe to give him a reassuring look of love so that he knew there was nothing to worry about. Still, I felt he was avoiding me. Maybe I was just paranoid, though.
I could only hope.
My suspicions turned out to be true, when, after arriving home at about nine o'clock for the final New Years' Eve celebrations, Johnny only gave me glances from across the room as he played spades with Two-Bit, Soda, and Steve. My heart broke with every look, each time his eyes growing more and more saddened.
I tried to distract myself with the hole in Soda's pants he asked me to sew, but it was no use. Every time the guys would laugh and Johnny stayed silent, the pit in my stomach grew bigger and bigger.
I tried to rationalize as the night ticked by — was what I did really that bad? Is he really mad at me? Maybe he's upset because he lost bowling, I thought, but that was hours ago.
As it got closer and closer to midnight, the guys grew more and more restless, and the distance between Johnny and I felt larger and larger. I glanced at him throughout the hours, and although he would laugh on occasion at something Ponyboy or Two-Bit said, or smile to himself whenever he would win a game of spades, his face always fell back to the same mellow, dampened expression.
Half an hour until midnight, Soda, Steve, and Two-Bit — the only ones with girlfriends — had all left to find their respective women for a New Years' kiss. As the minutes ticked by, I was afraid I wouldn't get mine.
I eventually found him sitting alone on the floor by the stairs, his back leaned up against the wall as he frustratedly struggled to shuffle a rumpled deck of cards, his eyebrow lines growing deeper with every attempt. I knew it wasn't just the cards making him upset.
I couldn't take it anymore. I folded up Soda's pants and walked over to him, the rest of the guys paying little attention to either of us. I'm sure they sensed the tension: it was so palpable you could've cut it with a knife.
I kneeled down beside him and he looked up, his eyes a heartbreaking mixture of confused and dejected. "Hey, um," I started quietly as I glanced over at the other guys, "can we talk?"
He nodded silently and stood up, offering me his hand to stand up as well. I felt myself blush — even when he was upset, he was a gentleman. The simple gesture gave my heart a flutter of hope that maybe it wasn't me after all.
But what else could've it been? I asked myself.
I followed him out to the porch, letting the door slam behind us as we sat on the steps.
I surveyed the sky for a while, taking in the stars and the cold, clear air. A shiver ran down my spine as a brisk wind brushed between us. I chucked internally: how symbolic.
"What's up?" He said finally after a few moments of silence.
I looked at him — not directly in the eye, but more so in his direction — my mouth slightly agape as if I was afraid to ask the question. I finally went for it. A sugarcoated version, that is. "What's wrong?"
I looked at him, in his face this time, and through the darkness I saw a distinct scowl. "I hoped you wouldn't ask me that."
I creased my eyebrows, puzzled. "Why?"
He leaned his elbows on his knees, folding his hands and placing them under his chin. His head bobbed as he spoke. "Because it's a dumb reason to be mad."
I scoffed internally. So he was mad.
I scooted closer to him in interest, placing a gentle hand on his leg. "You can tell me, Johnny," I looked at him gently, feeling him ease up a bit, "whatever it is, I'm sure it's not a dumb reason."
He gazed out into the skyline, as if searching for the answer there. He sighed after a bit, then looked down at the stairs between us. "It's Nathan."
My heart sank. I knew it.
I looked at him, but he avoided my gaze, almost as if he was embarrassed by such stupidity. A strand of hair fell into his eyes, drooping down with the rest of his face from a lack of styling. He looked wounded, and I wanted nothing more than to take him in my arms and hold him until he was wounded no more.
"Oh, Johnny..." I placed a hand on his arm pleadingly, "you don't think...?"
He looked up again, his eyes distant. "I know it's dumb..." he trailed off as if unable or unwilling to finish his thought. After a few silent moments between us, the only sounds being the sounds of the city and the boys in the house behind us, he spoke again, his voice a strange mixture of pained and emotionless.
"Nathan's better-looking than me."
He said it almost as a confession, one that, seeing by his eyes, broke his heart, and by association, mine.
"No—no, Johnny..." I scooted closer, grabbing his hand, "don't say that."
"It's true, ain't it?"
I looked him deep in the eyes, deeper than I had in a while — they looked in pain, broken, wounded...
It was too much for me to bear. I grabbed the sides of his face and forced him to look at me. My heart skipped a beat as our eyes met: his warm breath on my lips while in the cold winter air made me shiver with excitement, but the look of uncertainty and pain in his eyes brought my heart back down to a dampened beat.
"Look at yourself, Johnny —"
"I am."
"No, Johnny. Listen to me." I ordered gently. "Please."
His eyes turned puzzled, the same mixture of hurt still lingering in the forefront. I rubbed circles in his cheeks with my thumbs, gazing into them. I saw them ease.
"You're incredibly handsome, Johnny. You think I'd be willing to kiss just anybody?"
A glint of relief flashed across his face. His cheeks flushed bashfully. "Shoot, I dunno..."
I pulled him in closer. "Yes, you do."
His lips were mere inches from mine now, my heart beating at impossible speeds. I felt his arms slink around me, as if about to pull me in for a kiss, but I kept talking. Not only was it fun to tease him a bit, but I insisted he knew exactly how I felt.
"Your eyes," I whispered, "they're the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen." My hands moved slyly up the sides of his face to his head, running my fingers through his hair. They lifted it out of his face, revealing a slight, bashful grin. "Your hair is gorgeous—" I continued through his hair until I reached the bottom of his head, locking my fingers together behind his neck, "—and soft..."
His lips curled ever so slightly into a smile, shooting butterflies through my body. They took over my mind, sending me into a flirty frenzy.
My eyes flitted around his face, falling from his eyes to his lips and back to his eyes. Their expression comforted me: a combination of relief and desire.
Our breaths caressed each other's lips so gently so that it almost felt like a kiss in itself, until he finally said something, his voice as smooth as bourbon whiskey.
"Y'know, the countdown's gonna start any minute now."
I gave a light chuckle, the butterflies flowing through every inch of my body as if it was them that was causing my anxiety before, piling up in my stomach and just waiting to be let out. "Why wait?"
The light from inside shone on his face, showing a slight smirk. He pushed his lips into mine, and I wasted no time returning the gesture. He pulled me in closer by my waist, my hands gripping his neck as he kissed me again and again. Whether or not he was kissing me out of relief or for the fact we hadn't in a while, I wasn't sure. I didn't care though, as I found myself pushed against the porch fencing, his thumbs rubbing circles into my waist.
I don't remember how long we made out for, but when we separated, all uncertainty from his eyes was gone, and all that was remaining was passion.
I sat back against the porch fence, exhilarated and maybe even a little shocked — I didn't know Johnny had that in him. Little ol' Johnny, timid and nervous, fighting with me for dominance in a battle of lustful affection.
Either way, the look in his eyes that were so close to mine gave me butterflies. Not the anxious kind I'd built up ever since bowling, but the feel-good, fluttery feeling that made my face glow. I had a funny feeling Johnny had them, too.
Several moments passed between us as we both breathed heavily. I thought for something to say. When I finally did, my voice was quiet and unintentionally flirty. It was the butterflies, I concluded. "Believe me now?"
He smiled bashfully, his cheeks flushed as we gazed at each other longingly. "I dunno," he said quietly, almost matching my tone, "I may need some more convincing."
Just then, the door flew open, sending him flying towards the other side of the steps. A none-the-wiser Ponyboy stood in the threshold, the light from inside casting a towering shadow of his figure over us. "Y'all best hurry, you're gonna miss the countdown." And then, just as quickly as he appeared, he retreated back into the house, leaving Johnny and I alone in the dark again.
We looked at each other, somewhat stunned as we were the first day Two-Bit almost caught us in the kitchen.
He smiled. "I guess we can continue this later?"
I grinned. "Of course."
He stood up first, again offering his hand to help me, and we walked inside just before the thirty-second mark.
We sat down, throwing each other knowing glances as we all sat cross-legged on the floor, crouched around the TV.
"5..."
The final moments always brought me anxiety. I never really knew why.
"4..."
The few of the gang that stayed counted down excitedly, as if the past year had brought nothing but pain. I guess, in a way, it had.
"3..."
I imagined everything that would be gone: Mom and Dad's accident, Soda dropping out of school, Johnny getting brutally beat, Jonathan...
"2..."
Not really gone, though. The memories were still there. No change in numbers on the calendar would take that away.
"1..."
"Happy New Year!" Everyone shouted excitedly as the ball on the TV dropped. We all hugged, the guys high-fived. I couldn't remember the last time everyone was so excited for the change. Flashy scenes and lights paraded across the TV screen, signaling the new beginning.
It was officially 1966.
I never really appreciated the New Year. Not until now. Not until I realized that the worst year of my life was gone with time, never to return again.
We celebrated hard that night. Darry even drank a beer, seeing as though his twenty-first birthday was only a few days away. Of course, he wouldn't let me so much as sniff it, I didn't mind. I had no desire for it. I'd seen what it did to people, what it did to Jonathan.
It wasn't until nearly one AM that we finally all started drifting to bed. Soda finally came home, under strict orders from Darry, and Two-Bit and Steve were nowhere to be found. If I had to guess, they probably spent the night at their girlfriends' houses, blackout drunk or having the time of their lives.
Dally opted to crash on the couch without so much as a blanket, while the rest of us went to our respective bedrooms.
Before Johnny and I went our separate ways, though, I pulled him into my bedroom by the arm when Dally wasn't looking, shutting the door precariously behind us.
With little hesitation, he took me in his hands, pressing my face towards his. I kissed him, then he kissed me back, and before long, we were on top of the bed. I ran my fingers across his back and through his hair, him supporting himself up by his arms on either side of my head.
I hoped that no one would hear us, but if they did, they didn't bother telling us to pipe down.
We stayed there for nearly five minutes, until he finally broke away to breathe, panting. He hovered above me as he pushed himself up to his hands. His shirt sagged, his hair falling forwards into his face. I untangled my hands from his back and pushed the shaggy strands behind his ears, holding the rest delicately between my fingers as we gazed into one another's eyes.
"I believe you now." He said quietly and somewhat timidly, surprising for the fact that we talked with no words for 5 minutes straight.
I smiled, rubbing slow circles into his forehead with my thumb. "Good."
I gave him one last long, passionate kiss before he flopped down beside me, wrapping me in his arms for a goodnight hug.
We stayed there for several minutes, neither of us saying a word. I cuddled into his chest, never wanting him to leave, but when he gently kissed the top of my head and said "Goodnight, Cary" I was sorely disappointed.
"Goodnight, Johnny." I mirrored his soft tone, watching him as he slinked off of the bed and towards the door. "I love you," I said suddenly, stopping him in his tracks, "don't you forget that."
He turned to face me. "I love you too, Cary." Then, almost as a pondering thought, "Thank you."
And, with a smile, he turned out of the room, quietly turning off the light and shutting the door behind him, with no explanation as to what he was thanking me for.
I knew, though. I knew as I heard him patter up those stairs what he was thankful for: my love. Not just that, but the reassurance of my love, as my interactions with Nathan seemingly had an effect on him to doubt.
I pulled myself under the covers, only bothering to take off my jeans as I snuggled into the pillow, imagining it was Johnny's chest of black cotton instead of the linen mixture of the pillow case. It would have to do, I thought. Darry sure would throw a fit if we stayed together all night and he found out. Still, the idea was irresistible.
I sighed happily. Everything seemed to be perfect again. Well, as perfect as perfect is, anyway. As it can be.
How long would this last? Not long, I was sure.
But I didn't care anymore. I was happy now, wasn't that all that mattered?
I fell asleep that night dreaming about Johnny's lips.
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contrary to popular belief, this chapter (13) does not end in bad fortune XD.
hope you enjoyed. So sorry for taking so long. i've been so busy that by the time i can sit down im too tired to write anything.
thank you so much for your patience and support through everything, y'all really are the best.
Love y'all. Stay gold.