It almost worked

Chapter 1- fine.

              ୨⎯ Chapter 1- fine. ⎯୧

The sun was barely creeping over the buildings when I dragged myself out of bed, grabbed the trash bag by my door, and headed outside.

The morning chill bit at my skin, and I shivered, just wanting to get back inside with a hot cup of coffee or a cup of hot chocolate.

It was way too early, and New York was quiet in a way that felt strange, almost unsettling. But then, that's New York—it can feel like you're completely alone, even when you're surrounded by millions.

I made it to the narrow alley behind my apartment and tossed the trash bag in the dumpster.

But before I could turn around, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the alley, quick and frantic. Before I even registered what was happening, someone turned the corner, barreling straight toward me. He was panting, eyes wide, looking like he was in serious trouble.

"Hey, please," he whispered, darting his eyes back to where he'd come from. He pressed a finger to his lips, his gaze intense and desperate. "Don't say anything."

I barely nodded, still processing this stranger with messy, dark hair and a leather jacket, who was now hiding behind a dumpster like his life depended on it. Seconds later, two cops jogged into the alley, eyes scanning for any sign of him.

"Ma'am, did you see anyone come through here?" one of them asked, breathless and clearly frustrated.

I shook my head, hoping I sounded casual despite the pounding in my chest. "Nope. Haven't seen anyone. Just woke up...and..taking out the trash."

They exchanged a look, and one of them sighed, clearly irritated. "Alright. Thanks," he muttered, and the two of them continued down the alley, disappearing around the corner.

As soon as they were gone, the guy stepped out from his hiding spot, exhaling deeply. He ran a hand through his hair, a smirk spreading across his face as he looked at me.

"Thanks for that," he said, his voice gruff but somehow warm. "Didn't think anyone'd actually cover for me."

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Didn't seem like you were much of a threat. Just looked like you were in trouble."

The smirk widened a bit, and he extended a hand. "Dallas," he said, his gaze sharp and intense. "Dallas Winston."

I shook his hand, feeling the rough callouses on his fingers, the grip just firm enough. "Y/N."

"Listen," he began, glancing around the alley like he expected the cops to come back any second. "I'm in a bit of a bind here. Just need a place to crash for a night or two. Can't exactly go back to where I was staying, and... well, you seem like someone I can trust. For now, anyway."

I hesitated, my mind racing. Letting a stranger stay with me seemed insane, but there was something about him—a strange mix of charm and trouble—that felt oddly familiar. Against all reason, I found myself nodding. "Alright. Just for a couple of nights."

Dallas grinned, his eyes lighting up with a mischievous glint. "Knew I could count on you, Y/N."

Once we were back inside my apartment, he threw his jacket onto a chair and flopped down on the couch, settling in like he owned the place. I grabbed us some coffee, still trying to process the whirlwind of events that had led to a complete stranger camping out in my living room.

"So, what's your story?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he sipped his coffee. "You don't seem like the usual New Yorker."

I leaned back, a little surprised he'd picked up on that. "You're right. I actually just moved here a few months ago... from Tulsa."

At that, his eyebrows shot up, and he looked at me with something like surprise. "No kidding. Tulsa, huh?"

"Yeah. Didn't expect to meet anyone else from there all the way out here," I replied with a small laugh, feeling strangely comforted by the connection. "What about you? You seem a little too... I don't know, comfortable with trouble to be a city guy."

Dallas chuckled, the sound low and almost nostalgic. "I was born here, believe it or not. Lived in New York half my life. But... yeah, I spent a lot of time in Tulsa too. Got a few buddies still there. Greasers, like me."

I blinked, surprised. "Wait... you were a greaser?"

He looked at me, a small, amused smile playing on his lips. "Technically, still am. You know how it is. You don't just stop being a greaser, even if you're a thousand miles away."

I couldn't help but laugh, shaking my head. "That's funny. I used to hang around greasers too. Guess I never thought I'd run into one again out here."

"Small world, huh?" Dallas smirked, leaning back into the couch like he'd lived there all his life. But then his expression changed, his eyes darkening slightly. It was as if he'd remembered something that soured the moment, something he hadn't thought about in a long time.

"Everything okay?" I asked, sensing the shift in his mood.

He scoffed, shaking his head bitterly. "Yeah, just... thinking about someone back in Tulsa. Girl I used to know. Sylvia." He practically spat her name, his jaw clenching as he looked down, like he couldn't bear to even say it out loud.

I stayed quiet, letting him talk. There was something raw and real in his voice that I didn't want to interrupt.

"We were together for a while," he muttered, staring at the floor. "Thought she was my girl, y'know? She'd always tell me I was her only guy, that she'd be there no matter what."

He paused, his fists clenching and unclenching as he spoke. "Then I end up in jail for like about 90 days, and what does she do? Starts seeing some other guy. Doesn't even have the decency to wait for me to get out, just... drops me like I'm nothing."

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Found out from one of her friends. She couldn't even tell me herself. Just left me to figure it out when I got out."

I felt a pang of sympathy, recognizing the sting of betrayal in his voice. "That's rough, Dallas. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well," he muttered, brushing it off like it didn't matter, but the hurt in his eyes said otherwise. "Should've known better. Greasers like me... we don't exactly attract the loyal types."

I shook my head, leaning forward a bit. "That's not true. I mean, maybe Sylvia wasn't, but that's on her, not on you. Just because she let you down doesn't mean that's what you deserve."

Dallas looked at me, his expression softening just a bit. For a second, he looked almost vulnerable,

like he was letting down a wall he'd kept up for a long time. "Guess you got a point," he said, almost reluctantly. "But doesn't change what she did. Sylvia's just a two-timing broad, and that's all she'll ever be."

We sat in silence for a while after that, letting the weight of his words settle. It was strange, sitting here with someone I'd just met, feeling like I understood him in a way that went deeper than anything

I'd experienced in a long time. Dallas Winston was rough around the edges, sure, but there was a raw honesty to him that I hadn't found anywhere else, even here in this city of millions.

And as we sat there, drinking coffee in the early morning light, I realized that maybe, just maybe, we both needed this. Needed a little reminder that, even in a place like New York, we weren't completely alone

Dallas the man you are😻