You'd been living with the Curtis brothers ever since your home life fell apart. At 19 you probably could've gotten your own place, but for some reason you never found a reason to leave. You worked at the DX with Soda while Darry pulled long shifts to keep everyone afloat.
One morning Darry stepped out of the bathroom with his jeans halfway on and his belt still unfastened. He had a black T-shirt slung over one shoulder, work boots in one hand, and his hair was still damp, already combed back in that familiar greaser style. Water still beaded on his arms from the shower, and you quickly looked away, trying not to stare.
Still... it was hard not to notice how good he looked.