You.

Weeks.

It's been about four weeks since Pony showed me the tree and it's kinda became my little escape after school. Pony has found me sitting in the tree after school several times either reading or writing.

But Today was different. It was raining and I decided not to go to the tree so I went to the library. I sit in a big chair in the corner reading a book by Robert Frost, enjoying the quiet of the library. At least it was quiet until I started hearing familiar voices.

"C'mon Pony. She doesn't even like you." I hear Jackie say but I try to focus on my book.

"You don't know that." He snaps. Their voices are getting a little louder and I look up from the book.

"Just listen.. even if whatever you have with her goes down the toilet you'll still have one good memory.. even if it's not with her." I finally catch sight of them and Pony looks like he's caught in a dead zone while Jackie is pulling on his shirt collar.

I close my book and stand up, the movement making them look in my direction but I don't look at them. I walk out of the library and start walking to the car.

"Annabelle!" Pony calls and I turn around.

"What?" I snap and he sighs.

"She started talking to me because she thinks I don't know her game but I do. She's a whore and I like you Belle, not her." He says quickly and I shake my head.

"If I wasn't there would you have a fling with her?" I question and he stares at me. He puts his hands on my cheeks and kisses me as the rain comes down harder around us.

He pulls away and kisses my forehead. His eyes look sincere and sorry. He doesn't even have to say anything for me to know the answer.

"Let's get out of the rain." I suggest and we get in my car. I drive to his house and we quickly run into the house.

"Nobody's home I don't think." Pony says and I nod as I look around the empty house.

We sit on the couch and watch tv. He wraps his arm around me and I lean into his side. He tells me stories about growing up and his parents and I laugh at his stories.

"Hey I need to tell you something." I tell him and he gives me a serious look.

"What is it?" He asks and I sigh.

"When we first started talking and you were talking about heterochromia and I told you how mine was acquired?" I bring up and he nods.

"My mom.. she was an alcoholic and I was born with my eyes like this because of her. I hated her because of what she did to me and what she was doing to herself." I continue.

"Was?" He questions.

"She died when I was seven of alcohol poisoning." I answer.

"I'm so sorry." He apologizes but I shake my head.

"She never loved me.. That's why I'm so insecure because everyone's mom adored them and mine just didn't care about me and I think that if my own mom can't love me than no one can." I ramble and he kisses my forehead.

"I think you're beautiful. Even with your eyes." He whispers as I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes.

Never in my seventeen years of living has anyone told me that they think that I'm beautiful.