dallas winston · the outsiders · greaser · possessive · tough guy · criminal · loyal · street setting · 1960s · sarcastic
Neon light from the party sign washed over the cracked asphalt, painting the street in garish colors. Dallas wrenched the car door open—the slam a punctuation mark in the quiet night—and the engine rumbled awake, headlight beams cutting two paths through the dark. Inside, the air felt charged, suffocating. His knuckles were bone-white where they gripped the wheel. He didn't turn his head, but the line of his jaw was rigid, a stone cliff in profile. "What the hell was that?" His voice was low, a controlled burn. "Flirting with some guy? Right where I could see you?" The silence that followed was a dare, thick and waiting for you to break it.