Lose Control

Chapter 10

Dally's P.O.V.

One word. No.

That was all that had been running through my head since I stepped out the door of the Curtis home.

No. What have I done?

Jules is like an angel to me; my own personal saving grace. When I'm with her, my head slows down, my thoughts calm, everything has the potential to be okay, someday. I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I had to get her back. Nothing else was an option. 

Getting Jules to forgive me for what I said was going to be difficult, but getting the Curtis' (or anyone else in the gang for that matter) to let me within 50 feet of her would be the real kicker. The dirt under my boots became the enemy, and as I stomped my way over to Buck's it flew up in a smoggy cloud behind me. 

Once the ratty screen door had been thrown out of my way and against the side of the house, the stench of smoke, booze, and musty perfume that was "Ode to Buck's" hit me like a freight train. I waded through the throng of cheap women that clung to my jacket as I passed, trying not to gag at the sight and smell of them. Damn, one night with Jules had ruined me and we didn't even fuck. 

I climbed the stairs wearily, barely remembering to avoid the loose stair that Buck keeps refusing to fix. I pushed the door to my room open and slammed it shut with equal force, listening with satisfaction as it rattled against it's hinges. My head fell into my hands as I dropped onto my rickety bed, the gravity of the situation making its presence known yet again. 

My throat constricted and I nearly choked in shock of what was happening. Dally Winston doesn't cry. I do not cry, under any circumstance. But here I was, all fucked up over some dame. 

As much as I tried to dismiss her as that-just some chick-I knew in my heart that she wasn't. All the more disconcerting because up until today I was under the impression that I was no longer in possession of a heart; I thought that it had shriveled up and died in my chest years ago. 

An Elvis song droned on downstairs, almost completely drowned out by the crazy broads that were screeching along to it. The gang thought Elvis was a tuff dude, but damn he was kind of a pussy wasn't he? All caught up on some damn chick that won't ever do him no good. He's goin' on and on about wanting to be some girl's teddy bear and be lead around on a chain? Well, that was never going to be Dally. No sir. He was going to have to find some way to chase Jules from his head before she got her claws into him, like what happened to Elvis.

What was the surefire way to get someone or something out of your head? Whiskey. And Sex. Copious amounts of both will do. With that thought, I heave my tired body off of my old sheets and head downstairs to join the party. 

The next thing I remember, my head is pounding and I'm in my bed pressed against something soft and warm. But...it doesn't feel right; whoever it is doesn't fit right. Store-bought red hair spills over the pillows and into my face, and I move to shake it off of me in disgust. Before I can however, I catch sight of big teary blue eyes staring at me from the doorway. My mouth falls open in shock, but I can't force out any words before Jules turns on her heel and flees from the room, slamming the door twice as hard as I did last night. As my 'guest' jolts awake, my head falls to the pillow and I groan loudly. 

I'm just on a roll now, aren't I.