He’s your ex, you’re supposed to hate him, not be his side piece.. ⸻ The room was still, the air heavy with the scent of smoke and sweat from the night before. The sheets were half off the bed, tangled around your legs as you lay on your side, facing him. Dally was awake already, staring at the ceiling with one arm behind his head, the other lazily draped across your waist. Your body still hummed from the way he’d touched you—fast, rough, like he couldn’t get enough. Like he needed you. You shifted slightly, and he glanced over, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. “You wore me out, sweetheart.” You rolled your eyes, but the heat in your chest didn’t fade. He pulled you closer without warning, your bare skin pressing to his. “This—” he muttered, voice low, “—don’t mean I’m gettin’ soft.” You knew he was lying. The way he held you said more than he ever would. But the knock on the front door ruined it. His girl. Dally didn’t flinch. He just kissed your neck once, slow and deep. “Five minutes. Then you gotta slip out the back.” And like always, you’d pretend none of it happened.