A Boy Named Pony - A Sequel to East West Sunset

Chapter Six - Betty

He sure was sweet, my brain repeated to myself as I watched him scoop the cherry off the top of his milkshake and delicately place on mine instead. I had mentioned when we ordered how much I liked the cherry on top of the shake almost more than the milkshake itself, so he promised to give me his cherry. It made my insides do a funny little dance to watch him sacrifice that red piece of heaven for me.

"You never told me about your parents," I noted as he stuck a straw into his shake.

"Oh." He stirred the sweet brown liquid with the straw. "They passed away a few years ago. Car accident."

Now it was my turn to feel awkward. "I'm so sorry," I mumbled, my cheeks burning.

"It's okay. I've got Darry looking out for me now, and my other brother Sodapop."

"Your brother's name is Sodapop?"

"Yeah. What, you don't like it?" he joked, shooting me a grin. "It's no weirder than Ponyboy."

"I guess so. Why do y'all have such strange names?" I asked. I plucked one of the cherries out of my whipped cream and ate it.

"My parents had personality - they were real unique."

If they were anything like him, I'd bet they were. The corners of my mouth curved into a shy smile when he caught me watching him drink his shake.

"You sure drink slow, Betty Anne," Pony teased. "You like the view or something?"

"Or something." I sucked up some of the milkshake, heat blossoming across my cheeks again, this time because his laughing eyes made my knees turn to Jell-O.

"You're an artist, right?"

The sudden change of subject took me a little by surprise, but my heart leapt that he remembered. "Sorta."

"What d'you mean, 'sorta'? You think you're not good enough?"

I lift one of my shoulders in a half-shrug. "I mean, I like to draw, but I ain't got the talent for it."

"Don't pull that on me, Betty Anne. Show me one of your drawings and let me decide for myself! You girls are too hard on yourselves," Pony protested. 

My blush deepened even more, if that was possible.

"You got any drawings on you right now? I'd like to see one. If that's okay," he added hurriedly.

"I guess I do have my sketchbook with me," I admitted. "But promise you won't judge too harsh."

"Well, Betty Anne, you could probably be the least talented artist in the whole world and I'd still think your drawing was the prettiest thing I'd ever seen. If you'd drawn it."

"You're sure a flirt," I murmured, half to myself, but his grin widened when he heard it.

"Ah, you think so? Good, good, I'm doing my job well," he congratulated himself.

I pulled my sketchbook from my backpack and laid it on the table in front of us. "Ain't a good flirt supposed to be subtle about it, though?" I noted.

He clapped a hand on his forehead. "Come on now, Betty Anne, you're destroying my confidence!"

I laughed. God, that boy knew just how to make me laugh - straight from my chest and out my mouth. It never felt so easy to laugh before, or so genuine, so right. I didn't care if the other couples at the bar or in the other booths heard me; all that mattered was releasing the joy that being in his presence made me feel.

"Sorry, sorry. Here - you can flip through it," I said, bobbing my head towards the sketchbook.

He picked it up (almost reverently, to my embarrassment) and rifled through the folio before stopping at a page near the back. I swallowed hard; it must have been one of my more recent drawings. Hopefully it wasn't anything too mortifying. For some reason I couldn't remember what exactly I had drawn recently - my brain felt like the consistency of warm porridge.