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Trials and tribulations. The world was full of them. Dally's idea of an easy life was well, hunting for the hardships. He'd face life with danger in his eyes and bloody knuckles, thirsty for whatever curveball life can throw at him.
"You tired, Dal?"
Johnny's question broke Dally from his concentration and messed up the winning jerk of his pool stick. The burly old man he was playing against laughed heartily and took a large gulp of his lukewarm beer.
"Nice, man," Dally spat and shot Johnny a nasty glare. He grumbled a mild cuss under his breath and lowered his stick.
"C'mon, Dal," Johnny sighed, propping his feet up on the lower bar of his stool. "When're you gonna talk to her?"
"I ain't."
Johnny watched as his best friend threw back a shot glass filled with liquor. He didn't know which kind it was or how strong but it didn't matter.
"Yeah, it's doin' you some good," the raven-haired greaser muttered dryly.
Dally didn't hear the comment. His dark eyes were greedily fixed on the red 7-ball a half-foot away from the tip of the cue stick. His bare arm was nearly straight, his fingers wrapped around the handle expertly.
"Whatever the kid wants to do or who to mess with ain't none of my problems, Johnnycake. She's got it all figured out. Said so herself."
Johnny nodded. He looked back at his glass of water that was left untouched. The last cube had finally melted in the warmth of the suffocating playroom.
"I'm meetin' him today. Formal and all," Johnny informed to no response. "I think they're goin' out with some of his friends."
"Fittin' in with the crowd, isn't she?" Dally remarked dryly. He smirked when his ball smoothly rolled into the billiard. It made a revolving sound that pleased his ear but one that the satisfaction of winning couldn't beat.
Johnny used his finger to swirl the surface of water and he frowned at the rough patches of skin on the back of his wrists. Black and tough, like cooled magma from a volcano. They wouldn't heal. The patches would shed, leaving behind baby pink scars that'd clash against his tanned skin. Scars to match the one across his cheek.
Clattering of dishes and pool balls striking each other suddenly ceased.
Suffice it to say, when Johnny saw Sam Gardner and Virginia Curtis standing at the front of the door, he truly believed it may have been two angels sent from heaven. The sunlight had traced over their figures, merging them together as they should've been. It was only then Johnny realized how beautiful they looked together. Like a couple he'd find on the cover of a lifestyle magazine or owning the nice house down the quiet block he'd stop and stare at.
Johnny fully recognized the blouse Virginia was wearing. Loose-fitting sunset orange with its sleeves cropped at her elbows and trimmed in white. He was relieved to see her wearing a pair of nice cuffed jeans and holding her sunflower bag in one hand. It reassured him that the real Blue was still there. A spring rose bloomed on her lips and cheeks and black lined her lashes. Her makeup was strict simple and not like the heavy colors other greaser girls wore. Her hair was neatly combed, two curled strands pulled back and the soft tips grazing her shoulders. It looked longer, more kept and shiny.
