Stop and stare
The pattern repeated more abruptly now.
The need of seeing his smile and his presence more—Johnny needing to see Sodapop became more urgent.
How strange, yet comforting.
There was something just so incredible about how Sodapop Curtis laughed at the small things.
Johnny couldn’t help, but admire how nice it sounded and the effect it had on the other guys. It was contagious. Ponyboy was sort of learning how to create that affect, but he was more serious, not that was a bad thing.
When Soda laughed, Johnny forgot about his inner rage resulting from another fight in his folks’ place that forced him to wander late into the night alone. Luckily, by chance, Sodapop was returning to the house after a date with Sandy and ran into Johnny.
Sodapop invited Johnny to his place feeling bad looking into those large, frightened black eyes and a part of being a Greaser was they stuck together; they looked out for their own. Sodapop felt like that anyway. He offered him the couch in the living room in which Johnny never turned down. He sat there staring out into the darkness in silence.
Ponyboy wasn’t in the house. Two-bit and Steve hauled him off to go see a movie and wouldn’t be back till midnight. Darry wasn’t in from work yet, but should be soon.
Soda watched him from the doorway of the kitchen, bringing two bottles of Pepsi with him. He sat next to Johnny on the couch and handed him one of the Pepsi’s and didn’t say a word.
Johnny appreciated it, since it wasn’t anything new this time around. Johnny’s black eyes stared at the pretty boy of the gang. Sometimes when they were in a rumble, beating Socies heads in, it’s hard to believe this kind, handsome boy was a tough as nails fighter, Johnny thought.
“Are you hungry? There’s some leftovers there if you want,” Soda offered with a smile.
“Naw. Not really in the mood to,” Johnny replied, looking at his unopened bottle with interest.
Soda noticed this and reached over, extracted the Pepsi from the other boy’s hands, popped the top, then handed it back to him. Soda said, “Here you go.”
Johnny just smiled at that. Everything Sodapop did out of the blue was humorous. That little gesture tickled Johnny. “I’m not really thirsty, you know.”
“Not right now, anyway,” replied Soda. He leaned back in his seat, downing a good amount of Pepsi. He sighed, thirst quenched. “Seen Dally around lately? Did the Fuzz catch him again?” he asked, starting conversation.
Johnny shrugged. “I guess so, hope not though.”
They carried on with light talk and the night seemed more at ease, pushing away restless thoughts for the moment. Soda made the feeling of dread and pain disappear momentarily. The Curtis family had a knack of relieving the boys’ troubles, even though as a Greaser, that possibility was slim. What inspired Sodapop Curtis to push back in place a few black, greased stray strands of hair from Johnny’s eyes undid something inside him, deep inside Johnny.
He couldn’t help it and his heart just fluttered with the lighthearted sensation. The feeling of butterflies in him applied well. Johnny looked down at his hands. The scars from the last fight he was in still remained.
Swallowing, Johnny tried to ignore the feeling. The feeling was nice, but it disturbed him.
Aside Ponyboy, Sodapop was able to make all the horrible things happening inside his home life and out there where the division of people and social classes enforced, Socs and Greasers existed.
Johnny closed his eyes and let the tension go for a while.
The company of handsome boys with great long hair was nice.