𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒏'//𝑫𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒔 𝑾𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒏×𝑶𝑪

💥|SIX|💥

LAST NIGHT WAS imprinted in my head. His rough, calluses hands explored my body through my shirt, the strong smell of cigarettes and cheap cologne, and most importantly what his lips felt like against mine.

The kiss itself was anything but gentle, but his lips were if that makes any sense. I hated that I liked the kiss. Hated that I kissed him back.

"Does this look good?" Beatrice questions, yanking me from my thoughts. I look up to see her in a white blazer collar dress with black polka dots that came to just above her knees with overly sized sunglasses propped up on her nose. Her lips were painted red and her perfectly white teeth were visible as she smiled, posing for me.

"You look smokin'." I grin back at her. She turns to her mirror and checks herself out before giving a satisfied hum. Yeah, after last night I went to Beatrice's house. I was too embarrassed to sleep in the same house as Dallas. So now I was helping her find an outfit to wear to the drive-in movie we were going to see. Cherry Valance and Marcia Peters, two popular Socs in our school were gonna hang out with us too. I didn't really know how to feel about it because they were Socs, but in all the minor interactions I had ever had with them, they were always kind to me.

"Your turn." She says turning back to me. A mischievous grin plastered on her angelic face.

"Not happening." I reject laying back against her headboard and grabbing a magazine from her bedside table, flipping through the pages aimlessly.

"Oh come on, it'll be so fun!" She begs with a pout. I ignore her, a small grin forming on my face. Beatrice scoffs "Okay then how about...this!"

I let out a surprised yell when she tackled me. We tumble to the floor and she wraps her body around mine, trapping my arms to my side and laying her body on mine so I wasn't able to get up.

"Bea, what are you doing?" I ask, laughing at the blonde.

"I'm not moving until you say I can dress you up, oh and I wanna do your hair and make-up." She responds. I sigh and we lay there for a while. She picks her head up from my chest "Can I dress you up now?" She asks, biting back a smile.

"Fine, just get off me," I respond with a grin. Beatrice squeals in excitement and hops off me, rushing to her closet. I sit up with a breathy chuckle.

"What was that noise?" My head snaps to the bedroom door and Beatrice pokes her head out of her closet to see her mother, Helen Lambert. I didn't like her and she didn't like me. I was a hoodlum to her. White trash that stole, lied, and cheated to get my way. That's what she saw me as, and that's all she would ever see me as. Though she would never tell Beatrice I wasn't welcomed into their house. But it was well known that she did not like me at all.

Helen's bright blue eyes skim over me, distaste clear in her facial expression. Then her eyes flip to her daughter, softening with love as she waits for an explanation. "Oh, uh. Angie fell, she's okay though, everything's good." Beatrice tells her mother, smiling gently.

Helen nods, her eyes flickering over me before she speaks "I want to talk to you, Beatrice, alone." She tells her daughter.

Beatrice gives me an apologetic look before following her mother out of her room. Helen shuts the door and I slowly scoot towards it, sitting beside the door to hear.

"Did you check her pockets?" I hear Helen mumble to her daughter.

"Why would I check her pockets? What you think she stole something?" Beatrice asks, sounding slightly irritated at the question. It's silent and Beatrice lets out a scoff "Wow, Mom. That's freaking fantastic that you think that lowly of my best friend."

"It's nothing about her." Helen quickly defends herself "It's just that...where she comes from, they don't think like us."

"What so if you grew up poor you automatically a bad person?" Beatrice fires back.

"I didn't say that." Helen retorts.

"But you meant it." Beatrice fires back. It's silent for a while, so silent I thought they left to continue their conversation elsewhere until I hear Beatrice speak again. "Dad was a hoodlum and you still loved him." She mumbles.

I feel my heart ache for my best friend. Her father had died a few years back because of cancer. It was hard on her and I haven't heard her speak about her father until just now. I was also surprised he was a hoodlum. I had seen Charles Lambert, I had spoken to him. He looked and sounded just like a Soc. I'm not surprised I didn't know he was a hoodlum.

However, I also remember that he had never once judged me. Never gave me a disgusted look or said rude things to me. He had always given me advice and told me that just because I was poor, that didn't define my worth.

My thoughts are stopped by Beatrice opening the door. I jump to my feet mentally cursing myself for being so sloppy with my snooping. "I'm sorry for listening in... that was wrong," I tell her scratching the back of my neck nervously.

She smiles lightly, though it looks slightly forced "It's fine. I'm sorry my mother thinks of you that way." She responds.

"It's okay." I shrug and I meant it. I didn't really mind Helen hating me because in a way she was right. I did cheat and steal to get my way, though not often.

"It's not, and you shouldn't be okay with it," Beatrice responds.

I give her a small smile "If that's how she wants to be then let her be that way, you can't change how people view others, Bea." I tell her.

"I know," Beatrice tells me. I pull her into a hug and she hums happily.

Beatrice pulls away now grinning "It's time for your makeover." She says a twinkle in her eye. This is going to be very interesting.