The Outsiders: Book Two

Bonfire Heart

“Hey, little Red. Get up,” he whispered in my ear. Ponyboy.

“Go away,” I muttered back, pulling the cover over my head.

“It's like...ten o'clock. Gotta get up. Thanksgiving day, remember?”

“No.”

He pulled the cover down from over my head. “C'mon, little Red,” Pony whispered, his hot breath tickling my ear. I shivered involuntarily, but hoped he didn't notice.

I stuck my hand up, feeling around in thin air, until my palm hit his face. “I said no.”

Pony just laughed and pulled my hand off his face, curling into a fist. “Do I have to drag you out?” he asked, pressing his lips against my fingers.

I rolled over and looked up at him. “You are persistent, aren't you?” I asked, sitting up.

“Am, was, and always will be,” he fired back, flopping down next to me. “You gonna get out of bed?”

“Nope,” I said, shaking my head and exhaling.

Pony wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Maybe you need some extra inspiration.” His silvery-green eyes sparkled with mischief.

I cocked an eyebrow, turning to look at him.“What does that mean?”

He grinned—then pressed his lips against mine. I jolted in surprise, gasping and breaking it.

“Pony—” I sputtered.

He just grinned at me lopsidedly. “You know you liked it.”

“Are you cra—”

But he cut me off yet again—but this time, it didn't seem joking. Now it seemed longing, and for some reason, I went with it. Pony circled his arms around me, and his skin was warm—almost electric. I began to tingle as his soft lips moved against mine. My heart began to speed up, and my breath caught. I wrapped my arms around his neck, trying to pull him closer. Now there was a sense of urgency, a new-found passion. My fingers tangled in his hair, but he broke the kiss just then with a cruel grin.

“How do you like me now?” he asked.

I sat there in disbelief, trying to catch my breath. I looked at him. His eyes shined with triumph, but his cheeks were flushed and his un-greased hair stuck out oddly. My face was already hot, but that didn't keep me from blushing. “You are a despicable excuse for a human being.”

“Why's that?” he asked with a smirk. “Because you enjoyed that little rendezvous so much?”

“Not as much as you did,” I shot back.

He laughed. “Isn't that the truth—I was having fun.”

“You are an idiot,” I muttered.

“You love me,” he teased.

“I love Elvis too, but he isn't trying to give me hickies.”

“You said, 'too',” Pony noted. “Which means you weren't denying it.”

“Shut up.”

“Are you sure? I could go for round two.”

I hit his face with a pillow. “Git.”

“What?”

“You're a git.”

He looked confused. “They only use that word in British books.”

“I don't need British books, I have the Beatles.”

Pony made a face. “Ugh. You like the Beatles?”