💌

LORELEI ANDERSON LOOKED LIKE HEAVEN PERSONIFIED. DALLAS WONDERED IF SHE TASTED LIKE IT TOO.

Buck's place had a natural red light combing every inch of the bar, drenching the dark wood in temptation. It was late, only retirees and nobodies out to witness the young socialite's drunkenness. Her checkerboard skirt cinched higher; her buttoned-up blouse held together by a single pin. Matted inky hair flushed against her face as she twirled and danced to the rhythm of that jukebox, dirtying the bottoms of her knee highs as she jumped from one tabletop to another, singing along to the sensual lyrics flooding her ears. Her kitten heels laying comfortably in the barstool near the entrance-- she had discarded them as soon as possible.

"Another one for the vixen!" Shouted an older man, handing a fiver to Buck, who's been enjoying the show along with everyone else. "Sweet-looking doll you got here, Dallas," he said, nodding to the greaser. "She's a real money maker."

"She's having fun," the lanky boy replied, referring to the way she smiles. "It's good to get her like this."

"For you, it sure is," the older man says, smirking at his implication. "You don't mind if I dance with her, son?"

"Uh, I don't know. She's pretty set on something at the moment," said Dally, motioning to the girl climbing up onto the bar top and sauntering over to the pair. Wolf whistles and hollers erupt as she quickly bends to fix the sock clinging to her knee. Rory laughs and blushes as she looks over at the other patrons, waving her fingers in a flirtatious gesture.

Dallas scoots off his barstool, the sound breaking through the music barrier and allowing Rory to finally recognize where he was.

"Dallas Winston, is that you?" She whispers, her fingers reaching to the fallen strands of curls on his forehead, pushing them back in place. Without thinking, without worry.

He laughs at her sudden softness. "It's me, doll," he reaches up to grab her legs, stabilizing her from toppling over. His fingernails graze the individual webbing and detail of the frilly cotton. He taps her calf to get her attention. "You need help getting down?"

"Why?" Rory squats down, trying to smooth out her skirt from flashing him or any other patron eavesdropping on their conversation. Dallas reaches for her hips, helping her settle down on the wooden bar top. He keeps his hands there like she didn't think he would. "D-Don't you love me up here?"

"Of course I do. But I got you another drink, come on." He nods to the maraschino cherries drowning in a bubbly glass.

It was a little further down the bar, as if Dallas told Buck to move her away from the creeps ogling his date. She might be drunk, but he can tell she was still uncomfortable. He's studied her every move. From the way she blushes at the greaser's words to the subtle jumps and flinches of when an old man slaps down another bill.

"Oh," she softly smiles at him. "You didn't have to, I can pay."

"It's on the house, you put on a good show."

Rory knew what she was getting herself into as soon as she allowed Dallas to pull her away from the safety and comfort of her social life. She knew the hidden undertones of "let's get outta here."

She knows how every teenage boy thinks- her brother is a perfect example- and she knows that the Dallas Winston is not an exception to the gene pool.

So, after a few dirty Shirley's at the bar, she confessed her plans for the evening. One of them was: staying a virgin. She'll admit it now, not her most remarkable moment, but Rory was a little drunk, so please forgive her. The intentions were pure. Literally.

💌

Chewing on her straw, Rory watched him swallow a sip of his beer. His hair was wild and out of place from the race - he let her win. His brown eyes had a caramelized shine under the red lights of the bar, his cheeks and ears still red from the nippy wind, his eyelashes full and wispy like a porcelain doll. His lips twisted in a grin as he leaned closer to her face. Then they opened, his teeth shining in a smile as he spoke to her. But she couldn't register any of it. It came out in mumbles of incoherent sounds. He was simply too gorgeous to pay attention.

Waving his large hand in front of her face, Rory finally snapped out of it. She didn't answer him back or ask him to repeat. Her strawberry lips revealed what she was thinking. "Dallas," she took his hand and slowly crossed fingers. "What are we doing right now?"

He smirks, his fingers latching onto her knuckles and pulling her ever so closer. "Having a drink. Are you going blind?"

Rory rolls her eyes, laughing at his remark. "N-No. I mean, what are your intentions with me? Tonight?"

"Doll," Dally starts, tilting his head so he could look at her under this light. "You know better than to speak social with me. In English."

"Um," Rory lowers her voice, this sudden stare is making her very hot. Suddenly, she notices the prying ears and wandering eyes. "Is there somewhere else we could talk?"

Dallas doesn't say another word, scoots off his chair and pulls Rory away from the bar top. The pair moves in silence, Rory following close behind the greaser like a shadow attached to his backside. They were walking up the back stairs when she tugs his hand and mumbles about missing her heels.

"Stay here," he grunts, quickly checking his surroundings before placing a chaste kiss upon her forehead. "Give me a sec, Rory." His voice fading as he makes his way back for her shoes. No one has ever done something so chivalrous; Rory didn't believe she deserved it. All night she thought she was being a nuisance. Walking! talking! showing Anderson face! Only if her mother knew.

Rory never felt her cheeks burn so much as she watched the lanky boy saunter back to the front. Her senses were heightened, goosebumps covered every inch and she this growing feeling of butterflies in her stomach.

She felt like she was going to throw everything up. Not yet, but soon. She knew she was in deep shit when his time away from her felt like an eternity. And when he did 10 seconds later, (her high heels hooked on his finger) she beamed. And Rory scrutinized herself for it, hated that it felt too easy. Especially, with someone like him.

"Do you need me to put them on for you too, princess?" He asked, wanting to rile her up. But there was a dark thought sweeping through his mind, muddied by the whiskey on his tongue. Knowing if they were fully alone, he would get on his knees if she asked.

Rory tutted against her teeth, very annoyed with herself for liking that nickname. "Nah," she pats him on the chest, still eye level with the handsome boy as he was down a step. "I got it, sweetheart."

"Oh, you do?" He chuckles, stepping up. His legs on the either side of her, close enough to feel her body heat, but not enough to bite into it.

Rory gulped, realizing her mouth is salivating. When did her mouth get so dry? Why is her stomach flipping? Why did she suddenly feel different? "Y-Yes, I do." She gulps again, looking up to him. He's so tall. "Please lead the way," she motions her arms to wave him up to the second floor. "I know how boys are with girls on the stairs."

He lets a chuckle slip from under his breath. "Back there, you didn't seem to mind my eyes."

"Dally."

"Alright, alright," he raises his hands into the air, like he's been arrested too many times to count. "This way."

💌

author speaking!

hello again. whoeva is here rn, love u <3