honey → dallas winston

16

Patsy Cline
August 31, 1968

Several rounds of poker occured before the boys began turning in. Steve and Two-Bit had already left. Pony and Johnny had gone to his room. Darry and Soda were sat at the table with Dally and Georgia. The brother's eyes were heavy with fatigue and exertion. Fights were exhausting. The small clock near them read 1:15. Dally nursed a glass of whiskey. The radio played softly in the background.

"Well, this has been great, but I'm goin' to bed," Darry sighed, "No more stupid shit for one night."

Soda saluted him as he left.

"Should I go to Sandy's?" the boy asked. Dally's eyes widened at this.

"You two figured things out?" he sipped his drink.

"For the time being, yeah," Soda shrugged.

"Since when do you have a girlfriend?" Georgia laughed. She'd never heard a mention of her before that point.

"Definitely not my girlfriend, used to be," he reasoned, "more a friend with benefits currently."

"She's his girlfriend," Dally added, "he's just afraid of labels."

"You're one to talk," Soda looked between Georgia and Dally. He tapped his fingers on the table, unsure of what to say next.

"Right, well, I'm exhausted," Georgia broke the awkward tension. Where she would sleep was a mystery. The couch didn't look entirely inviting after the night she'd had. She honestly wanted to go home.

"You're not goin' home are you?" Dally
asked. Soda got up at this point.

"My room's claimed, goodnight," he hurried off.

"He's bein' weird," Dally mentioned. Georgia might have agreed if it wasn't for her earlier conversation with the younger boy. It was clear he thought Dally and Georgia would be each other kryptonite. He was only worried about them.

"He always weird," Georgia laughed. She looked at her feet for a moment. She couldn't help but reminisce on said conversation. She knew she was falling for the boy in front of her, but she was terrified he wouldn't catch her. And from she understood, he didn't have the best track record. She hated herself for thinking he was a player, but one look at him made it hard to deny. His sharp features, dark eyes and moody attitude weren't easily ignored. If she were him, she'd have any girl she wanted.

"What's wrong?" he must've noticed her expression. Another tick in the box. She cursed at herself for her thoughts.

"Tired, beating guys up takes a lot out of me," she smiled.

"Come on Georgia, that's not it," Dally set his glass on the counter. Patsy Cline echoed out of the radio. A slow, soft song filled the small house.

Georgia stood, "Care for another dance?"

Dallas took her hand, a confused expression on his face. Georgia wanted to ask something, she wanted to ask a million quetions, bur she kept quiet. For the time being, she just wanted him and the music.

Without hesitation, Dally pulled Georgia towards him. If Georgia had slowdanced at prom, she imagined it was something like this. Slow, languid steps with someone else. Nothing else in the room seeming to matter. She pressed her head to his chest. She wasn't sure when it happened. When she'd fallen. But she kept her mouth shut. Saying it made it real. Georgia preferred the suspened feeling for now. The inbetween.

"You know somethin'?" Dally asked as he swayed to the music. Georgia peered up at him with a silent hum. "If you'd asked me a few months ago, if I thought I'd be here right now, I'd have said you're crazy."

"Why's that?" she pulled back from him, hands on his firm shoulders.

"Because nothing I've done in my life has made me deserve this," he whispered. He pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"That can't be true," Georgia whispered back, "I think you deserve it all."

"You'd be the only one," his hand rested on her cheek. She could feel it coming. Dallas' eyes were warm with anticipation, with feelings she couldn't decipher. They flicked down to her lips and when they met hers again, they were the color of honey. Beautiful, golden honey.

"Georgia," it was barely audible.

"Dallas," he didn't protest when she called him this.

"Can I kiss you?"

She wanted to answer with something witty. But she felt her usual exterior fall. All that was left was the Georgia who desperately wanted to kiss him. Who's world had been turned around by a boy with dark hair and bruised knuckles. She was fully and completely in love with him. So vulnerable, heart pounding, all she could manage was a quiet yes.

And so he did. He kissed her, softly as first. Bringing her lips up to meet his, he wound his other arm around her waist as if she'd disappear if he didn't. It was colors and emotions Georgia hadn't felt in forever. It was sparks and warmth through her bones as his lips moved against hers. Warm and needy. They'd both been waiting for this, unbeknownst to the other.

Dally would never say it, but he wanted to kiss her the first time he saw her. And again when she sat next to him on that couch. When she'd laughed in the wind as they drove through Tulsa. In every moment he saw her, he wanted nothing more. He never kept his promises anyway.

Georgia's hands tangled in his hair, still damo from the rain. His lips were soft against hers, desperate and kind. Full of things he hadn't said. He parted her lips with his tongue, deepening the kiss. He'd backed her into the couch, a tangle of hands in the dim lights of the living room. If he could stop time he would. He was so afraid to let her go.

Georgia knew then what love was supposed to feel like. Kindness, warmth, sacrifice. It's competitive and angry but it's not violent. It's drinking games and poker and late night drives. It's bad movies and ice cream and kisses in living rooms. It's jean jackets and white t-shirts. She'd never been so sure of something in her life.

She pulled away only when she couldn't breathe. Dally's lips were swollen and pink. Despite being out of breath, she'd never felt more alive.

The pair stayed there for a moment, silent, admiring the other. Dally's eyes never left hers.

"Stay the night," Dally stroked a thumb against her cheek.

Georgia heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest. Nothing outside of this room mattered at all.

"Wasn't planning on leaving."