Willow
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN?"
He gives me a long, considering look. Then shakes his head once, like he's dismissing something inside his own head. "It's the heterochromia. Creeps people out."
So he's not going to tell me.
"Uh huh. One blue eye, one amber? A truly catastrophic flaw."
"I've got plenty of those."
I get the feeling he's waiting for me to ask about the scars. He probably deals with it all the time. People asking nosy questions or being awkward and acting like they never even noticed. I don't want to do any of that. I actually like the look of them— they make him look fearsome and strong, like someone's who's been through some major shit and survived. But I'll wait for him to tell me what that major shit he survived might be. It's his story to tell. If he ever decides to during the short time we'll know each other. I smile at him to let him know I'm teasing. "So you're not boyfriend material, is what you're saying."
