A/N

Was listening to 'You Belong With Me' and felt the urge to write some events that I have known about. I am the narrator in the story. At the park bench I picked the Temperance Brennan series because that's what I'm currently reading. (It is AMAZING, and so is KATHY REICHS!) Anyway, this is a semi-skewed version of events in my life. If you want to know what is true and where I got this from, PM me. I think that's it... Oh, I wrote this in one morning, so I'm sort of hyper on writing energy (if that's possible :D LOL).

Disclaimer: I do not own 'You Belong With Me'. All rights go to Taylor Swift and her producers. Rated M because I'm paranoid.

I stand off to the side, at the wall of the room while you're on the phone with her. Inside, I'm angry, yet confused. On the outside, I am a blank mask, but for when you turn to me to smile.

Through the cell phone earpiece (from across the room I might add) I hear yelling and shouting. I guessed it was her, yelling at you, yet again. Probably because of a joke you told that she didn't like. Or maybe, being a blonde, didn't understand. Yes, I'm being stereotypical again, but Alison? She fits the stereotype like skinny jeans to her slim legs. Again, I find myself somewhat jealous.

I put those thoughts out of my mind and ponder what joke she's yelling about. Oh, right! You told it yesterday when the three of us were at school (though she was so mad at me, she pretended I wasn't there), but I heard the joke. It was a trig joke, and I completely got it. I laughed under my breath until I left you two, turning the street toward my house.

Anyway, back to the present. I just got back from my math club, which meets every Tuesday afternoon, and I decided to come say hi. You live right next door, after all. But when I get here, what do I get? You, on the phone, listening to her yell at you, stopping only for breath. So I decided to put in my iPod earbuds and listen to some music.

This will take a while, I thought.

I looked through my music playlists. Hmm. Something to match my mood. I found what I was looking for. Fearless, by Taylor Swift. The songs weren't in order on my iPod, so I went to the first one I saw. You Belong With Me. Perfect. I heard her singing out the first stanza of the song, and I moved my lips to mimic.

If Alison were here, she'd hate that I was listening to this. She hates this music. That was enough reason in of itself to make me choose this album.

I heard her singing out the beginning, so applicable to my life.

You're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's upset

She's going off about something that you said

'Cause she doesn't get your humor like I do

I'm in the room, it's a typical Tuesday night

I'm listening to the kind of music she doesn't like.

And she'll never know your story like I do

I remembered the many days you'd come to my house, head drooping, sometimes even with tears hovering in your eyes, because of something she'd said or done. We talked, you told me everything, and I helped you. You deserve better.

But for some stupid reason, I'm a geek and you won't like me. You like her, she's a popular girl and a cheerleader. Great, compared to me, it seems, the lonely geeky girl.

I remembered to a day when you were watching her cheer practice, and I was sitting out on the bleachers, studying. For some reason, however, I could not get myself to focus. All I could think about why you like her better, oh so much better, than me.

I conjured up a little fantasy, about someday, when you finally see that I'm the one who's best for you, and that I've been here waiting, watching.

I force myself back to the present, only to see that you're still on the phone. Oh well, the song's on repeat, so go ahead, talk as long as you want! Doesn't matter that I'm here.

My thoughts drifted to another moment, a day I wanted to never think of again. There was this party you two were going to go to, and I was at your house, trying for one last time to convince you not to go.

Now, you know what the party was like. When I say party, I mean a full on party. Like the kind college students go to. However, you were only 15. Just turned 15, at that. I was the oldest out of us, and I guess then was my time to act it. I stood in front of you, trying to explain what could happen. You just ignored me, and Alison pushed me out of the way. I was strong enough to push her down, but I didn't. This was your choice. I had told your parents about this a few weeks before. I doubted they believed me. You mom certainly didn't, and you dad, well, I'm not sure. You walked away, leaving me to worry about you and what was going to happen.

Before you got together with her, you never would have done this. Never. But now? I don't know. I just don't know.

That night, I sat in my room for hours, lying on my bed trying to read.

I had a room (more like a mini-house) off of our main house, so I didn't need to worry about my parents coming in and finding me in tears. I didn't want that, either.

I tried to read, but I couldn't. I got a bag of carrots out of my mini-fridge, and some ice. I filled up a cup with water, my hand shaky all the while, thinking about what you were doing.

Carrots, to me, were as good as buttered toast to others. I ate pretty healthily. I wasn't super-thin, like Alison, who you were going out with that night, but I didn't have much fat on my body either.

I had a trail outside my 'house', so I finished my carrots and went out there to walk. I tried to get thoughts of you out of my head, but it was impossible. I walked back to the house to flop back on my bed, and as I did, I saw you walking home. I walked back into my room, trying to ignore the fact that you were back.

Your window was open, so as much as I tried not to eavesdrop, I couldn't help it.

I saw Alison, taking off her dress, revealing that super-thin body underneath.

You took off your shirt, showing a flat and muscular torso. You were about to take off your pants, but Alison came over and helped you.

There you both were, seemingly lovers, though I knew better.

You were almost naked; her fully naked, when you noticed the window was open. Probably didn't notice until then because of the way you were staring at her, thin body, big breasts. Of course you were looking at her.

She noticed the open window, but (being who she is, a dumb blonde) didn't seem to realize I could be right next door.

She turned her head back to you, and helped you get fully undressed. Then you got into your bed.

Finally, you noticed (she didn't) that I could be right next door, after I heard the sounds and saw the sights of you 'doing it' for a few minutes. I heard what seemed like you, reluctant to get up, finally close the blinds, but not the window.

Good, I'd seen all I needed to see. Ever. I didn't want to hear any more, either, but all night, sounds wafted in through my window of your night together. Needless to say, I didn't sleep well.

I forced myself back to what was going on right now (again) and saw that, finally, he was finishing up his conversation, apologizing profusely. For what, I have no idea. It was only a math joke, nothing insulting.

While I was remembering, I hadn't noticed that my Taylor Swift song had played over and over and over again; 6 times, in fact.

I see you hang up, and put the phone in the pocket of your jeans.

"Sorry," you say. "That was Alison."

I thought for a second of what to say. "I know." I finally decided. "Hey, the weather's great. Want to take a walk to the park?"

"Ok," he says almost immediately.

I look at him as we walk, and before I know it, we're at the park, and he's sitting down at the bench. I sat down.

Isn't this perfect?

You look at me and smile, and say, "Read any good books lately?"

I smile slowly, and say, "One. The Temperance Brennan series, the inspiration for Bones, on FOX.

"I love that show!" you say, your grin getting even wider, if it could. It wasn't the book or the question, or even the walk that made me smile. It was your grin. You haven't smiled like that in a long time.

Ever since the two of you got together.

I forced the thought out of my mind. Why ruin a perfect moment?

But just then, someone else did. Alison rode up on her tandem bike. She got off, leaned against it, and took your hand. She seethed, for just a second, at me. So short you couldn't see it. But she did.

Why are you even with her? She makes you go to parties, she changes the way you are? You keep saying you're fine, but it's obvious from today's phone spat you're not. No matter how sweet she tried to be around you, it's not true. Why do you stay with her?

She pulled him away, as I knew she would, so I just kept on thinking. I remembered the many nights you'd come to my house sad, or worried, and I told you jokes and cheered you up. I knew the music you liked, and played it when we were together. You told me about your dreams, whether sad, happy, or even funny.

I wait at your back door literally and figuratively to let me in.

Then I remembered again back to the night I wanted to forget. You, lovemaking all night. Seemingly in love. I knew better.

Then an idea sprouted in my head.

Could you not be leaving her because she's pregnant with your child? You'd feel obligated to stay with her then. Maybe you're staying with her to avoid her aborting the baby. It only happened 5 or 6 weeks ago. She'd only be a month and a half in, maybe not showing yet.

I walked home with that in my mind, finally finding a possible solution. Not one I liked, but whatever.

There was a school dance tonight. I'd bet you'd be going with her.

I made some whole-wheat pasta and some vegetables with olive oil for dinner, and sat down at my table to eat. In the middle of dinner, I heard a knock on my door. I looked through my peephole, and saw your face, looking straight at the door, through it. I zipped up my jacket, then opened the door.

"Listen, Cathy," you said.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what had to be coming, telling me he was sorry I had no one for the dance, but he loved Alison.

Yeah, right.

"Cathy," he said again.

I walked out of the doorway and led you to my table, serving you some pasta in the process. You sat down and started eating.

"There's something I have to tell you."

I braced myself yet again. However, it was unneeded.

"Alison… well… I don't really love her."

There's a shocker! I said nothing.

"Remember the party you tried to convince me not to go to?"

I nodded.

"Well, after that…"

You paused.

"Wait, did you see any of what happened after?"

I nodded again. "A little. Until you closed the window. Which I was super glad for. I didn't need to see that."

"Well, um…"

There was a long pause.

"I got Alison pregnant. She's insisting I started it, but really, she nearly forced me. At the party, I'm guessing she slipped something into my drink. She knew I'd never go along with it otherwise. Don't worry, the drink was just water. But…"

Another pause.

"Now she wants to get an abortion. I won't let her. I can't let her murder an innocent child. I said after she has the kid, I'll take it. That was what she wanted to talk to me about on that bike ride. She intentionally tipped the bike and I fell off." He pointed to a scratch dissecting his eyebrow, and one on his arm, as well as many on his hands. "She won't stop drinking during the pregnancy, if she even goes through with it, I know it. The baby could have multiple defects."

I looked at him, surprised. Of course, this confirmed what I'd thought, but that he'd tell me? Now? That surprised me.

"What I'm asking is…" he cleared his throat. "I don't have a partner for the dance tonight. Would you like to go with me?"

This time I was truly awestruck. I stared at you for at least two minutes straight. We were both letting out pasta get cold, but I, for one, didn't care.

"Yes! Yes, yes yes!" I finally shouted. This was literally, a dream come true.

Seven months later, when our relationship was firmly grounded, Alison had her baby. Right after, she handed it over to us. I don't understand how the mother of a baby can't love it, but that's her problem. She went through with the pregnancy, due to a lot of moral heckling from us.

The baby was a girl, and at 16, I was an adoptive mother. She had some birth defects, but that only made her more special and made me love her more. I couldn't marry you right then, or I would have, but, as you remember, we agreed to marry either at 18, or after we graduated undergrad in college.

We decided to name her Martha, and now, two years later, the aforementioned is crawling about our larger-than-normal dorm room where you and I stay while going to Cornell; you studying music, (you're a great singer), me engineering, physics, and architecture, as a triple major.