Blair Mari

Soda and Ace were practically born side‑by‑side. If Soda toddled toward something, Ace toddled after him. If Ace found a stick she liked, Soda wanted one too. They were tiny, loud, and inseparable in that way only kids can be, the kind of pair who made adults sigh and smile at the same time.

When they were four, they’d wander the Curtis yard barefoot, toes blackened with dirt. Soda would point at the clouds like he had some secret knowledge.

“See that one?” he’d say, squinting up. “Looks like a horse.”

Ace would tilt her head. “Looks like a blob.”

“You ain’t lookin’ right,” Soda insisted, grabbing her wrist and tugging her a few steps to the left. “Now it’s a horse.”

She’d grin. “Okay… maybe.”

They went everywhere together.

Down the sidewalk to the corner store, where Soda always tried to convince Ace that red licorice was better than black.

“No way,” she’d argue, hands on her hips. “Black tastes like grown‑ups.”

“You’re weird,” Soda would laugh, but they’d both get a piece anyway.

Through the empty lots, where they’d pretend the tall grass was a jungle. Soda would lead, Ace right behind him, both making ridiculous animal noises until Darry yelled from the porch that they were gonna scare the neighbors.

Behind the DX, they’d crouch near the fence, watching the older boys work on cars. Soda’s eyes would go wide every time an engine revved.

“I’m gonna do that someday,” he’d whisper.

Ace would nudge him. “You’re gonna blow somethin’ up someday.”

“Yeah,” Soda said proudly. “A whole car.”

By six, they had routines, unspoken, but solid. Ace would knock on Soda’s door every morning, even if it was barely sunrise.

“You up?” she’d whisper loudly through the screen.

“No,” he’d whisper back.

“Good. Let’s go.”

They’d run down the street, Ace’s pigtails bouncing, Soda’s laugh echoing. They’d climb the big oak tree near the empty lot, Soda always going too high, Ace always yelling at him to come down.

“You’re gonna fall!”

“No I ain’t!”

“You are!”

“Then you’ll catch me.”

She never said she would, but she always stood right under him anyway.

At seven, they started exploring farther, the creek behind the old warehouse, the alley where stray cats liked to hide, the broken swing set behind the school. Soda would jump from the top bar, landing in the dirt with a thud.

Ace would roll her eyes. “You’re gonna break your legs.”

“Nah,” Soda said, brushing dust off his shorts. “I bounce.”

They’d sit on the Curtis porch afterward, sweaty and grass‑stained, sharing a bottle of Coke Mamma Curtis insisted they split. Their shoulders always touched. Their knees always bumped. They never moved away.

“You think we’ll still hang out when we’re big?” Ace asked once, voice small.

Soda looked at her like she’d said the dumbest thing in the world.

“Course we will. You’re Ace.”

“And you’re Soda.”

“Yeah,” he said simply. “So we gotta.”

By eight, Soda and Ace had the kind of friendship that made adults say things like “Those two are gonna get married someday.” They were definitely a different kind of chaos, sprinting through yards, climbing fences, daring each other to jump off things they definitely shouldn’t.

And lately, Steve Randle had started showing up everywhere they were.

………………….

One July afternoon, Soda and Ace were in the empty lot behind the Curtis house, trying to build a ramp out of a busted board and two cinder blocks. Soda was convinced he could jump his bike over it. Ace was convinced he’d die.

“You’re gonna break your face,” Ace warned, hands on her hips.

Soda grinned. “My face is unbreakable.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“You love it.”

Ace rolled her eyes, but she didn’t deny it.

Steve wandered over, chewing on a piece of gum like he owned the place. “That ramp’s crooked.”

Soda blinked. “It ain’t crooked.”

“It’s real crooked,” Steve said, nudging the board with his foot. “You’re gonna hit it and fly sideways.”

Ace pointed at him. “See? Even Steve thinks you’re gonna die.”

“I didn’t say die,” Steve corrected. “I said fly sideways.”

“That’s worse!” Ace said.

Steve shrugged. “Not my problem.”

Soda laughed. “You wanna help or you wanna stand there lookin’ pretty?”

Steve smirked. “I always look pretty.”

Ace snorted. “You look like a kicked puppy.”

Steve tossed a pebble at her shoe. “Least I don’t fall off curbs.”

“That was one time!”

“Three times.”

Soda clapped his hands. “Okay, okay, both of you shut up and help me fix this thing.”

They spent the next ten minutes arguing about angles, balance, and whether or not Soda’s bike could survive the jump. Steve kept adjusting the board, Ace kept telling him he was doing it wrong, and Soda kept insisting he knew exactly what he was doing even though he absolutely didn’t.

When the ramp finally looked halfway decent, Soda hopped on his bike.

Ace groaned. “I can’t watch.”

Steve crossed his arms. “I can.”

“You’re sick,” Ace muttered.

Soda pedaled backward, getting a running start. “If I die, tell Darry it was worth it!”

“You ain’t dyin’!” Ace yelled.

“You might,” Steve added helpfully.

Soda barreled forward, hit the ramp, and launched into the air with a yell that echoed across the lot. He landed crooked, skidded sideways, and crashed into the grass in a tangle of limbs and bike parts.

Ace screamed. “Soda!”

Steve burst out laughing. “You looked like a flying chicken!”

Soda popped up, grass in his hair, grinning like he’d just won a trophy. “Did you see that?!”

Ace smacked his arm. “You scared me!”

Steve nodded. “You scared me too. But it was funny.”

Soda threw an arm around both of them, pulling them close even though Ace was still scolding him and Steve was still laughing.

“You two,” Soda said proudly, “are my best friends in the whole world.”

Ace softened. “Yeah. I know.”

Steve shrugged, but his smile was real. “Guess so.”

And just like that, the three of them were a set, loud, reckless, impossible to separate. Soda’s sunshine, Ace’s fire, Steve’s sharp edges.

They didn’t go everywhere together.

They went everywhere as one.

………………….

By the time Soda, Ace, and Steve hit their teens, the East Side had learned to brace itself whenever the three of them were seen together. They weren’t bad kids, just loud, restless, and allergic to boredom.

They still went everywhere together, but now they did it with more height, more attitude, and way more trouble.

It started behind the grocery store, where someone had left a shopping cart abandoned near the dumpsters. Soda’s eyes lit up like he’d discovered buried treasure.

Ace groaned. “No.”

Steve crossed his arms. “Absolutely not.”

Soda ignored both of them. “Get in.”

Ace blinked. “Why me?”

“Because Steve’s heavier.”

Steve scoffed. “You’re heavier.”

Soda pointed at him. “You’re dense.”

Ace climbed in the cart with a sigh that said she regretted every life choice that led her here. Soda grabbed the handle, bracing himself like he was about to perform a stunt on national television.

Steve muttered, “This is how people die.”

Soda shoved the cart forward, sprinting across the pavement. Ace screamed, Soda laughed, and Steve chased after them yelling, “Slow down, you lunatic!”

The cart hit a crack in the pavement and launched Ace forward like a missile. She tumbled into a patch of grass, popped up with leaves in her hair, and shouted, “I’m gonna kill you!”

Soda doubled over laughing. Steve tried to look concerned but failed miserably.

Ace threw a handful of grass at both of them. “You’re idiots.”

Soda saluted her with a plastic spoon he’d found on the ground.

Steve stared. “Where did you even get that?”

Soda shrugged. “It chose me.”

……………

One night, they climbed onto the roof of the abandoned laundromat, a place the Curtis parents had banned with the kind of seriousness that meant he absolutely knew they’d go anyway.

Soda sat on the edge, legs dangling. “Bet I can jump to the next roof.”

Ace grabbed his shirt. “Bet you can’t.”

Steve shook his head. “Bet you’ll break something.”

Soda grinned. “Bet you’ll miss me when I’m gone.”

Ace shoved him lightly. “I won’t.”

Steve added, “I will. I need someone to make me feel smart.”

Soda laughed so hard he nearly slipped off the edge.

They spent an hour up there, throwing pebbles at an old street sign, yelling jokes at passing cars, and arguing about whether the moon looked like a potato or a pancake.

“It’s a potato,” Steve insisted.

Ace rolled her eyes. “It’s a pancake.”

Soda squinted at the sky. “It’s a potato pancake.”

Steve pointed at him. “You’re banned from opinions.”

That night, they collapsed on the Curtis porch, bruised, grass‑stained, and proud of themselves.

Ace stretched out on the steps. “We’re gonna die before we’re twenty.”[a]

Steve nodded. “Probably.”

Soda lay on his back, staring at the stars. “Worth it.”

Ace nudged his shoulder. “You’re insane.”

Steve nudged his other shoulder. “You’re stupid.”

Soda grinned at both of them. “And you love me.”

Ace sighed. “Unfortunately.”

Steve shrugged. “Yeah. Unfortunately.”

They stayed like that, tangled, exhausted, laughing under the porch light, three disasters who somehow made perfect sense together.

…………….

The trio was halfway through their teens when Soda Curtis started acting weird.

Not dangerous weird. Not Dally weird. Just… Soda weird. The kind of weird where he tripped over his own feet more often, forgot what he was saying mid‑sentence, and turned red whenever Ace looked at him too long.

Steve noticed first.

They were in the empty lot behind the Curtis house, trying to build a makeshift slingshot out of a busted tire tube and two sticks. Soda was tying knots that made no sense, Ace was giving instructions he wasn’t listening to, and Steve was watching the whole thing like it was a science experiment gone wrong.

Ace leaned over Soda’s shoulder. “You tied that wrong.”

Soda jumped like she’d poked him with electricity. “I- uh… no I didn’t!”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “You absolutely did.”

Soda glared at him. “Shut up.”

Ace laughed. “You’re acting weird.”

“I’m not weird,” Soda said, voice cracking like a twelve‑year‑old.

Steve snorted. “Oh yeah. Totally normal.”

Soda threw a stick at him. It missed by a mile.

……………..

Later that week, they decided to steal the laundry line and use it to make a giant rope swing from the old oak tree. It was a terrible idea. Naturally, they did it anyway.

Ace tossed the rope over a branch. “Okay, Soda, pull it tight.”

Soda grabbed the rope, but Ace stepped beside him to help, and suddenly Soda forgot how hands worked.

Steve watched him fumble. “You good, Curtis?”

“I’m fine!” Soda squeaked.

Ace frowned. “You’re sweating.”

“It’s hot!”

“It’s cloudy.”

Soda wiped his forehead. “I run hot!”

Steve muttered, “You run stupid.”

Soda threw the rope at him. It hit Ace instead.

“HEY!” she shouted.

Soda panicked. “I DIDN’T MEAN TO!! I MEAN I DID BUT NOT AT YOU, I MEAN-”

Ace stared. “What is wrong with you?”

Steve leaned in. “He’s broken.”

Soda shoved him. “I’m not broken!”

Ace crossed her arms. “Then stop acting like a malfunctioning toaster.”

Soda turned bright red.

Steve whispered, “He’s got a crush.”

Soda nearly fell out of the tree. “I DO NOT!”

Ace blinked. “On who?”

Soda froze. “Uh, nobody? I- Steve’s lying. Steve lies all the time. Steve’s a liar..”

Steve smirked. “He tripped over a mailbox earlier.”

Ace stared at Soda. “How?”

Soda panicked again. “Uhhh it moved in front of me?”

Ace laughed so hard she had to sit down.

Soda looked like he might pass out.

That night, they sat on the Curtis porch, Ace on the railing, Steve on the steps, Soda pacing like he was preparing for a speech.

Ace finally asked, “Are you gonna sit down or wear a hole in the porch?”

Soda sat instantly. Too fast. He nearly fell off the step.

Steve shook his head. “Smooth.”

Soda glared. “Shut up.”

Ace nudged Soda’s knee with her foot. “You okay?”

Soda swallowed. “Yeah. I’m good. Totally good. Super good.”

Steve muttered, “He’s dying.”

Soda threw a pebble at him. It hit Ace again.

“STOP HITTING ME WITH THINGS!” she yelled.

“I’M SORRY!” Soda yelped.

Ace sighed, but she smiled. “You’re weird.”

Soda looked down at his hands. “Yeah. I know.”

Ace nudged him again. “It’s okay. You’re still you.”

Soda’s ears turned pink.

Steve watched them, chewing gum thoughtfully. “You two are exhausting.”

Ace smirked. “You love us.”

Steve shrugged. “Unfortunately.”

Soda looked at both of them, his best friends, his whole world, and tried not to explode.

………………..

Ace had gone inside the Curtis house to grab sodas, leaving Soda and Steve alone on the porch. Soda was pacing again, that weird, jittery pacing he’d been doing for weeks.

Steve watched him for a full thirty seconds before finally saying, “You’re makin’ me dizzy.”

Soda froze. “I’m not pacing.”

“You’ve circled the porch three times.”

“I’m just… walkin’.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “You’re walkin’ in a circle.”

Soda opened his mouth, closed it, then sat down so fast he nearly missed the step.

Steve sighed. “Okay. We’re doin’ this.”

“Doin’ what?” Soda squeaked.

Steve pointed at him. “You’ve got feelings.”

Soda’s entire soul left his body. “NO I DON’T.”

Steve didn’t blink. “You do.”

“I don’t!”

“You do.”

“I REALLY DON’T.”

Steve leaned back, chewing gum like he had all the time in the world. “You get weird every time Ace talks to you.”

Soda’s ears turned pink. “I do not.”

“You trip over air.”

“That’s normal!”

“You forget words.”

“I have a lot of words!”

“You tripped on a mailbox.”

Soda groaned into his hands. “It moved!”

Steve laughed. “You’re hopeless.”

Soda peeked through his fingers. “You’re makin’ fun of me.”

“I’m absolutely makin’ fun of you,” Steve said. “But I’m also tellin’ you it’s fine.”

Soda blinked. “It is?”

“Yeah,” Steve said simply. “I don’t care if you like her.”

Soda’s voice cracked. “I don’t LIKE her.. I mean I DO! I mean I DON’T? I mean-”

Steve held up a hand. “Stop. You’re gonna combust.”

Soda shut his mouth.

Steve continued, “I’m cool with it. Really. But I’m not third‑wheelin’ your awkward meltdown every time we hang out.”

Soda stared. “I’m not melting down.”

“You’re melting down right now.”

Soda looked down at his hands. “I don’t know what to do.”

Steve shrugged. “Be normal.”

“I AM normal.”

Steve snorted. “You’re the least normal person I know.”

Soda shoved him lightly. “Shut up.”

Steve shoved him back. “No. Listen. You don’t gotta tell her anything. You don’t gotta act different. Just stop freakin’ out every time she stands within five feet of you.”

Soda sighed. “I can’t help it.”

Steve smirked. “You can. Or I’m ditchin’ you two and hangin’ out with Two‑Bit instead.”

Soda gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

“I absolutely would.”

Soda grabbed his shoulders dramatically. “Don’t leave me with Ace alone! I’ll die!”

Steve laughed. “Then act normal.”

Soda nodded, determined. “Okay. I’ll be normal.”

“You won’t,” Steve said.

“I’ll try!”

“That’s all I’m askin’.”

Ace stepped back onto the porch carrying three sodas.

“What’d I miss?” she asked.

Soda sat perfectly still, hands folded, posture stiff as a board. “Nothing. I’m normal.”

Ace blinked. “You look like you’re waiting for a dentist appointment.”

Steve burst out laughing. “He’s fine. He’s just… Soda.”

Ace handed him a soda. “Well, stop being weird.”

Soda nodded too fast. “Yes. I will stop being weird. Immediately. Forever.”

Ace stared. “You’re impossible.”

Steve leaned back, smirking. “Told you.”

And just like that, the trio settled into their usual chaos, Soda trying desperately to act normal, Ace confused, and Steve enjoying every second of the disaster.

………………..

For two full weeks, Soda Curtis was a disaster.

Not the fun kind of disaster.

Not the “Soda jumped off the roof again” kind.

No, this was the awkward kind.

He tripped over nothing.

He forgot words.

He panicked whenever Ace stood too close.

He panicked whenever she stood too far.

He panicked whenever she existed.

Ace noticed.

Steve noticed.

Everyone noticed.

…………..

They were hanging out in the empty lot one afternoon, trying to fix a broken slingshot. Soda kept dropping things. Ace kept staring at him. Steve kept sighing.

Ace finally snapped, “Soda, what is WRONG with you?”

Soda dropped the slingshot. “NOTHING.”

Steve muttered, “Everything.”

Ace pointed at Soda. “You’ve been weird for two weeks.”

“I’m not weird.”

“You’re extremely weird.”

“I’m normal!”

Steve snorted. “You’re the least normal person I’ve ever met.”

Soda threw a pebble at him. It hit Ace.

“STOP HITTING ME WITH THINGS!” she yelled.

“I’M SORRY!” Soda yelped.

Ace groaned. “You’re impossible.”

Steve leaned back. “He’s in love.”

Soda nearly swallowed his tongue. “I AM NOT.”

Ace blinked. “With who?”

Soda froze. “Umm- nobody? I uhh… Steve’s a liar!”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You’re pathetic.”

Ace crossed her arms. “Sodapop Curtis. Look at me.”

Soda looked everywhere except at her.

“Sodapop,” she repeated, sharper.

He looked at her like she was the sun and he was a bug about to fry.

Ace stepped closer. Soda stepped back.

Ace stepped closer again. Soda backed into the fence.

Steve whispered, “This is better than TV.”

Ace ignored him. “Soda Curtis, I swear to God, if you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m gonna shake it out of you.”

Soda squeaked. “I’m fine!”

“You’re not fine.”

“I’m SO fine.”

“You’re acting like you swallowed a radio and it’s stuck on static.”

Steve nodded. “That’s accurate.”

Ace planted her hands on her hips. “Do you like me or something?”

Soda’s brain exploded.

“I.. I I. NO? I MEAN YES.. I MEAN, I DON’T KNOW. STEVE TOLD YOU? I’M GONNA PASS OUT-”

Ace stared at him. “Oh my God.”

Soda covered his face. “Please bury me.”

Steve laughed. “I told him to act normal. He didn’t.”

Ace took a breath, then said it plainly, her usual blunt, no‑nonsense tone.

“Soda… I like you too.”

Soda dropped his hands. “You WHAT?”

Ace shrugged. “Yeah. I do.”

Soda blinked. “Like… like‑like?”

Ace rolled her eyes. “Yes, Soda. Like‑like.”

Soda turned bright red. “Oh.”

Steve clapped his hands once. “Great. Fantastic. Wonderful. Now can you two stop being weird so I don’t have to third‑wheel your emotional meltdown every day?”

Ace smirked. “He’s the one being weird.”

Soda pointed at himself. “I’m normal!”

Steve pointed at him. “You’re a walking malfunction.”

Ace nudged Soda’s shoulder. “Just… be you. The normal you. The fun you. Not the weird panicking crazy version.”

Soda swallowed. “I can do that.”

Steve muttered, “He can’t.”

Ace elbowed him. “Shut up.”

Ace smiled at him.

Soda stared.

Steve stood up, dusting off his jeans.

“Okay, I’ve done my good deed for the year. I’m leavin’ before you two start talkin’ in heart‑shaped speech bubbles.”

Ace threw a pebble at him. “Get lost.”

Steve grinned. “Gladly.”

He pointed at Soda. “Be normal.”

Then he pointed at Ace. “Good luck.”

And he walked off down the street, hands in his pockets, whistling like he hadn’t just detonated a bomb.

The porch went quiet.

Ace sat on the railing, swinging one leg. Soda sat on the step below her, elbows on his knees, staring at the ground like it held the secrets of the universe.

Ace sighed. “Okay. Talk.”

Soda swallowed. “About… what?”

Ace stared. “Soda.”

He winced. “Right. Feelings. Those.”

Ace leaned forward. “You’ve been weird for weeks.”

“I know.”

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I know.”

“You’ve been tripping over air.”

Soda groaned. “I KNOW.”

Ace softened. “Why?”

Soda rubbed the back of his neck. “Because… I didn’t know how to act. Around you.”

“Why?”

Soda’s voice dropped. “Because I like you.”

Ace blinked. “I knew the whole time.”

Soda’s head snapped up. “You KNEW?!”

“You’re not subtle.”

“I thought I was subtle!”

“You’re Soda.”

He groaned again. “That’s not fair.”

Ace hopped off the railing and sat beside him on the step. Their knees touched. Soda froze like she’d just set him on fire.

Ace nudged him. “Relax.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“I really can’t.”

Ace rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

Soda looked at her, and his voice came out small.

“I didn’t wanna mess anything up.”

Ace’s expression softened. “You didn’t.”

“I thought you’d think it was stupid.”

“I don’t.”

“I thought you’d laugh.”

“I didn’t.”

“I thought you’d-”

Ace cut him off. “Soda. I like you too. You know that right?”

Soda’s breath caught. “You really do?”

“Yeah.”

“Like… like‑like?”

Ace smirked. “Yes, Soda. Like‑like.”

Soda’s face went red enough to glow. “Oh yeah.”

Ace leaned a little closer. “You don’t have to freak out.”

“I’m not freakin’ out.”

“You’re absolutely freakin’ out.”

“I’m, I’m, I’m-”

Ace put a hand on his arm. “Hey. It’s okay.”

Soda stared at her hand like it was a live wire. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You don’t have to do anything.”

“I feel like I should.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“I kinda want to.”

Ace’s voice dropped. “Yeah. Me too.”

Soda’s breath hitched.

Ace’s eyes flicked to his.

The porch light hummed.

The summer air pressed warm around them.

Everything felt suspended like the world was holding its breath.

Ace whispered, “Soda…”

Soda leaned in a little, just a little, heart pounding, hands shaking, the moment soft and electric and new, and then leaned in a little more before flicking his eyes to meet Ace’s.

Ace was the one to lean in the rest of the way and gently press her lips to Soda’s before pulling away.

“Was that.. Uh. Did you-” she hesitantly asked before being cut off by Soda pressing his lips to hers again in a more enthusiastic kiss.

They stayed like that for a while before pulling away and leaning into each other, hands intertwined, sitting so close they might as well be attached.

Just two teens, feelings exposed, sitting close enough to feel each other breathe.

…………………

The awkwardness didn’t disappear overnight. Soda tried, he really did, but he still tripped over air and forgot words whenever Ace stood too close. Steve kept threatening to leave the trio if Soda didn’t “get it together,” but he never actually left.

Two days after Ace confronted him, everything blew up in the most Soda way possible.

It was a hot evening at the Curtis house. The gang was scattered across the living room, Two‑Bit on the couch, Pony on the floor with a comic Johnny looking over his shoulder, Darry in the kitchen pretending not to listen, Steve leaning against the wall, Ace sitting cross‑legged on the rug.

Soda walked in carrying a bag of chips.

Two‑Bit perked up. “Whatcha got there, Soda‑pop?”

Soda tossed the bag to Ace. “My girlfriend wanted chips.”

The room froze.

Ace froze.

Soda froze.

Steve dropped the comb he was holding. “Oh my God.”

Pony’s head snapped up. “Your WHAT?”

Two‑Bit screamed laughing. “GIRLFRIEND?!”

Darry leaned into the doorway. “Soda?”

Soda’s soul left his body. “I DIDN’T MEAN.. I MEAN I DID? I MEAN SHE’S NOT! I MEAN…”

Ace blinked at him, cheeks pink. “Soda…”

Soda panicked. “I’M SORRY I SAID IT I DIDN’T MEAN TO SAY IT IT JUST FELL OUT OF MY FACE!!”

Steve cackled. “You absolute disaster.”

Two‑Bit pointed at Ace. “Congratulations, you’re dating a malfunctioning toaster.”

Ace threw a pillow at him. “Shut up!”

Soda paced in a tiny circle. “I’m sorry, Ace, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean to SAY it, I mean… I’m gonna go die now-”

Ace stood up and grabbed his shoulders. “Soda. Stop.”

He stopped instantly.

She looked him in the eyes. “It’s okay.”

Soda blinked. “It is?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not mad?”

“No.”

“You’re not freaked out?”

“A little,” she admitted. “But not in a bad way.”

Soda swallowed. “I didn’t wanna make things weird.”

Ace smiled. “You didn’t. At least no more weird than usual”

Steve coughed loudly. “He absolutely did.”

Two‑Bit added, “Weirdest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Pony nodded. “Top ten for sure.”

Darry sighed. “Lord help me.”

Ace ignored all of them. “Soda… if you wanna call me your girlfriend, you can.”

Soda’s eyes went huge. “I CAN?!”

Ace shrugged. “Yeah. I like you. You like me. We already act like we’re together half the time.”

Soda lit up like a Christmas tree. “I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!”

The gang exploded.

Two‑Bit: “OH MY GOD.”

Steve: “I told him to act normal. He didn’t.”

Pony: “This is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Darry: “Please don’t make out in my house.”

Soda: “WE’RE NOT MAKIN’ OUT!”

Ace: “WE’RE NOT MAKIN’ OUT!”

Steve pointed at Soda. “You’re still a malfunctioning toaster.”

Ace pointed at Steve. “And you’re still annoying.”

Soda grabbed Ace’s hand without thinking. She squeezed his back.

The gang howled.

Two‑Bit: “LOOK AT THE LOVE!”

Pony: “They’re so awkward.”

Steve: “I refuse to third‑wheel this.”

Darry: “I need a vacation.”

Soda turned bright red. “STOP LOOKIN’ AT US!”

Ace laughed. “They’re never gonna stop.”

Soda looked at her, really looked, and despite the chaos, the teasing, the yelling, he felt steady.

Ace nudged him. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“We’re official now, boyfriend.”

Soda grinned so wide it hurt. “Yeah. We are.”

And the gang teased them for the rest of the night, loudly, relentlessly, lovingly, while Soda and Ace sat shoulder‑to‑shoulder, hands brushing, both of them smiling like idiots.

………………..

Soda and Ace didn’t fall apart after becoming “official.”

They were still chaotic.

Still loud.

Still inseparable.

But now there was something softer underneath it all, something steady.

The gang never stopped teasing them.

One evening, Soda and Ace were sitting on the Curtis porch, Ace leaning against Soda’s shoulder while he played with her fingers absentmindedly.

Two‑Bit walked by and yelled, “LOOK AT ‘EM! HOLDIN’ HANDS LIKE THEY INVENTED IT!”

Ace threw a shoe at him. “Go away!”

Steve added, “You two are disgustingly cute. I hate it.”

Soda grinned. “You love it.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately.”

Pony peeked out the door. “You guys are gross.”

Soda gasped. “We’re adorable!”

Ace nodded. “We are.”

Darry sighed from inside. “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

Soda shouted back, “WE’RE ALWAYS STUPID!”

Ace nudged him. “He means unusually stupid.”

“Oh. Right.”

……………

It happened on a quiet night.

They were sitting on the hood of Darry’s truck, staring at the stars. Soda kept glancing at Ace like he was trying to memorize her face.

Ace noticed. “You’re staring.”

“No I’m not.”

“You’re absolutely staring.”

“I’m admiring. You’re really beautiful.”

Ace snorted. “You’re ridiculous.”

Soda swallowed. “I gotta tell you somethin’.”

Ace turned toward him. “Okay.”

Soda’s voice shook. “I… I love you.”

Ace blinked. “You do?”

“Yeah. I do. A lot. Like… all the time.”

Ace stared at him for a long moment — then she smiled, soft and real.

“I love you too.”

Soda froze. “You DO?!”

“Yeah.”

Soda nearly fell off the truck. “OH MY GOD.”

Ace laughed. “Calm down.”

“I CAN’T.”

“You’re impossible.”

“I LOVE YOU.”

“I KNOW.”

Soda beamed so hard it hurt.

Steve walked by at that exact moment. “Did you two just say I love you?”

Soda nodded proudly. “YEP.”

Steve groaned. “Great. Now you’re gonna be even worse.”

Ace smirked. “Jealous?”

Steve pointed at them. “I refuse to third‑wheel your love story.”

Soda shouted, “TOO LATE!”

………………

By eighteen, Soda and Ace were so close the gang started calling them “the Curtis couple.”

Two‑Bit: “You two act like you’ve been married for ten years.”

Ace: “We’re not married.”

Soda: “We could be!”

Ace: “SODA.”

Steve: “Please don’t let him plan anything.”

Darry: “God help us all.”

They spent most evenings together, Ace doing homework while Soda lay on the floor beside her, tossing a baseball in the air.

Soda: “You’re pretty.”

Ace: “I’m trying to study.”

Soda: “You’re still pretty.”

Ace: “You’re distracting.”

Soda: “That’s my job.”

Ace: “You’re fired.”

Soda: “You can’t fire me. I’m your boyfriend.”

Ace: “Unfortunately.”

Soda: “HEY.”

Ace: “I’m kidding.”

Soda: “Good. I love you.”

Ace: “I love you too.”

……………..

By nineteen, Soda was grown, still goofy, still affectionate, still the sunshine of the East Side, but steadier. More sure of himself. More sure of her, of them.

One night, they sat on the porch swing, Ace tucked under his arm, the summer air warm around them.

Soda whispered, “We’ve been together forever.”

Ace nodded. “Feels like it.”

“You still like me?”

Ace smirked. “Unfortunately.”

Soda nudged her. “HEY.”

She laughed. “Yes, Soda. I still like you.”

“And love me?”

“Yeah. I do.”

Soda’s voice softened. “I love you too.”

Ace leaned her head on his shoulder. “I know.”

The porch creaked. The cicadas hummed. The gang yelled from inside.

Two‑Bit: “ARE THEY BEIN’ MUSHY AGAIN?”

Steve: “They’re ALWAYS mushy.”

Pony: “It’s gross.”

Darry: “Leave them alone.”

Soda shouted back, “WE’RE IN LOVE, LEAVE US ALONE!”

Ace covered her face. “You’re embarrassing.”

Soda grinned. “That’s my job.”

Ace nudged him. “You’re impossible.”

Soda kissed her forehead, soft, sweet.

“I love you,” he whispered again.

Ace smiled. “I know.”

She tilted her head up peck his cheek, and then his lips, and then rested her head back on his shoulder.

And they stayed like that, two kids who grew up side‑by‑side, who turned into something steady and real, who loved each other loudly and shamelessly while the gang teased them from every direction.

……………………