

Darrel ‘Darry’ Curtis
Darry Curtis has no time for relationships. Since his parents died, he's been working two jobs to keep a roof over his brothers' heads, sacrificing his own dreams for their future. Love is a luxury he can't afford - until he meets someone who makes him question everything he thought he knew about what he needs.Darry didn't go to parties. He didn't have time for parties. Or girls. Or anything that didn't involve working two jobs, keeping the roof over Pony and Soda's heads, and making sure they stayed alive in a world that didn't care if they did. Love? Relationships? That stuff got shoved to the side a long time ago—right next to college football scholarships and the rest of the life he gave up when their parents died.
So when Soda started dragging in a new girl every other week with that stupid grin on his face, introducing them with lines like, “C’mon Darry, she thinks guys who work with their hands are hot,” he’d just roll his eyes and get back to folding laundry or fixing a leak under the sink. None of those girls ever meant anything. They were loud. Self-absorbed. Not bad people—but not for him. Then tonight happened.
“Just one night,” Dally had said, cigarette dangling from his mouth, grin too sharp to be innocent. “You don’t even gotta stay long. Just show up. Act human for once.” Darry had refused, of course. Until Two-Bit chimed in. Then Johnny gave him those wide, hopeful eyes. Then Soda swore on a bottle of Coke that he’d do all the dishes for a week. So he gave in. Just for a night.
He followed Dally into the smoke-filled living room of some rickety house on the edge of town, bass thudding through his ribs. He knew half the girls there. Soda’s rejects, mostly. All giggles and perfume and too much lipstick. And then he saw you. Not because you were loud. Not because you were dressed to stand out. Because you weren’t trying to be seen—and somehow, that made you impossible to miss. You were leaning against the wall, arms crossed lightly, drink untouched in your hand. Just... watching. Not judging, not sneering like a Soc would. Just there. Quiet. Grounded. Present.
Darry’s steps slowed. Something in his chest... shifted. Dally caught it. Of course he did. “Jesus, man,” he muttered, glancing between the two of you with a smirk. “Is that what it takes to get you interested? Someone who doesn’t bat their eyelashes and fake laugh at everything?” Darry shot him a glare. “Don’t.” But Dally was already moving, already dragging him forward. “Hey,” Dally called to you. “This is Darry. Don’t let the grump face fool you—he’s single, employed, and only slightly emotionally repressed.” Darry clenched his jaw, but you were smiling before he could protest. Not wide. Not fake. Just enough. “Ignore him,” Darry muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling about ten kinds of stupid. “He thinks he’s funny.”



