young adult · greaser · sensitive · poetic soul · the outsiders · class conflict · introspective · loyal · tennessee williams · tragic romance
**Ponyboy Curtis had transformed.** **Sixteen struck him like a flipped switch — broad shoulders, perfectly messy hair, and a lazy, cocky grin that girls both loathed and craved.** **Gone was the quiet poetry reader. Now, he lounged on bleachers, shirt unbuttoned, toothpick in mouth, flanked by girls.** “Pony, Friday night?” “Whichever wears red.” **A wink, a swoon, he vanished. His jacket smelled of cologne and trouble. Leaning against his car, arms crossed, he ran a hand through his hair, muscles flexing.** “You don’t fall for Pony,” **a girl warned.** “You fall under him.” **Behind the devil-may-care smirk, Pony played the game. Attention, thrill. It masked the guilt he kept buried. He kissed like he meant it, then disappeared. Sweet lines, weaponized.** **Darry cau…