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ALTHOUGH SHIVERING IN THE ICY NIGHT, RORY FELT WARM UNDER DALLAS' LEATHER JACKET. AND SHE COULDN'T HELP BUT FEEL DESIROUS AS SHE WATCHED HIM BRACE HIMSELF INSTEAD OF EMBRACING HER.
"You sure you're not cold?" Rory asks, her eyes fluttering back down to the sooty cement backroads, she would hate to track up mud or any other debris on her black shoes and lacy-finished socks. Much less be caught staring at that teeth-chattering Tulsa boy.
Her mind racing to the pulsating beat of her weak heart, her reputation in the palm of his bruising hand.
"Don't worry, doll," Dallas chuckles under his breath, trying to contain the goosebumps crawling up his exposed forearms.
Although light freckles dot his skin like stars in the night sky, the yellow street lamps illuminate the harsh cigarette burns and beer-bottle-caused scars. His face still icing over from the syrupy drink that redhead social splashed on him and her supposed friend.
No matter how many times he's been either thrown out into the dark Oklahoma streets, he swears that New York City is a thousand times warmer. He misses his birthplace, but would never trade the home he has now.
"What kinda gentleman would I be if I let a pretty girl like you freeze to death?" He asks, tucking his hands knuckle-deep into jean pockets. His mean eyes searched the back alley, wondering why it got a bit eerie. He's always hyper-aware, especially with a pretty, innocent girl by his side.
"You're not," Rory states as she tugs his old, cigarette-scented leather jacket closer to her coconut smooth skin. Her white blouse is still a bit transparent but dryer than before. Her cream-colored brassiere's lacy detailing showed off in the shifty lighting, one notice from a stranger and they would think the worse.
And for some reason . . . little Miss Anderson wouldn't care if they did.
"You know my reputation and yet you're still coming back to my place?" The lanky boy looks down at the doe-eyed social, having absolutely no regard for how his dark umber eyes adorn her face, to her strawberry lips, to the growing shade of blush creeping up her goosebump-infested neck.
His hair swoops in front of his eyes as he walks a bit closer to her tiny frame, checking over his right shoulder for any sign of someone following. He did some meddling things today, he wouldn't be surprised to see some repercussions.
"I got nowhere else to stay," Rory mumbles past her pink lips, forming a thin line as her mind washes over with memory waves. Memories of her family deliberately excluding her out of the home, she wasn't wanted nor loved like she longed to be.
