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It was November ninth, Dallas's birthday. He had made it very clear that he did not want any kind of party, hell, he didn't even want to hear the words Happy Birthday, but you didn't listen to him. Knowing it was a dangerous idea, you planned a surprise party. You didn't tell the gang; they weren't the best secret keepers and if Dallas found out, he'd flee the country. The only other person who knew was Buck and he didn't care much about it.
All day you had been avoiding Dallas, and everyone else, until the time came. It was seven-thirty when you called the Curtis's and the Shepherds, telling them to be at Buck's in a half an hour for the party. You talked to Ponyboy and Johnny and got them to find Dallas and bring him there at eight, and Buck had the bar clear by then.
Everyone and their girlfriends were there, inside, it was dark and silent when eight o'clock hit. You heard talking outside, footsteps on the porch, then the door opened and Ponyboy, Johnny, and Dallas walked in. Buck turned on the lights and everyone stood up yelling "surprise" and "happy birthday". Dallas frowned, debating whether he should be mad or not. Two-Bit went up to him and handed him a beer and his frown faded into a smirk. "I'll kill whoever's behind this," Dallas said, shaking his head. Buck turned the music on and suddenly everyone got loud.
The room was packed, it already smelled of cigarette smoke and liquor and sweat, the music was loud and people danced and sang and spoke loudly. You sat at the bar with Angela and Evie, watching Dallas from afar and observing how unintentionally happy he was, standing against a pool table with a cue in one hand and a beer in the other, drinking and laughing with his buddies. His eyes had met yours and instantly his eyes lit up. He set the cue down on the table and made his way over to the bar where you sat. You turned away and resumed the conversation with the girls, pretending nothing happened.
Dallas stood behind you, placing one hand on your shoulder and using the other one to move your hair from your face. His mouth dangerously close to your skin, he whispered in your ear, "I can't believe you did this."
You turned to him, "I don't know what you're talking about."
He smiled, taking your hand and dragging you from the barstool. Weaving through groups of people, you followed him through the building and out the side door into the cold. He stopped just outside the door and kissed you before either of you could say anything, his hands on your waist pulling you close, yours around his neck.
"You know I hate you for this," said Dallas.
"Oh you love me." You reached up and kissed him again.
"I missed you today," he said, pulling a cigarette from the pack in his jeans pocket. He held it between his teeth and looked down at you as he lit the end. The air got chilly and you leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body.
"I couldn't spoil the surprise." You took the cigarette from his lips and took a hit, exhaling as you passed it back to him. "Happy eighteenth, Dally."
"You're the worst." He wrapped his arms around you, the cigarette dangling from his lips, holding you close. The music from inside spilled through the door, not the cheap country music that Dallas hates.
"Do you like it?"
"The party? Nah." He inhaled the cigarette and slowly breathed the smoke through his nose. "It ain't too bad. I don't get how you did it though."
"I just told everyone there'd be booze. Wasn't too hard." Dallas chuckled.
"You didn't get me a present or nothin' right?" No, you didn't get him anything, but you didn't answer his question to keep him guessing. When Dallas finished his cigarette you followed him back inside.
The rest of the night was eventful, drunk people passing out, drunk people starting fights, drunk couples making out on the couches. Though Dallas wouldn't admit it, he thought it was great, but that was probably because he was drunker than everyone else.
