Can't Help Falling (Sweater Weather, #3)

by Courtney Walsh

Owen was, by all accounts, trouble. But seeing him sitting there, writing or drawing or whatever he was doing in that journal, he looked different somehow. Quieter. Less scary. Approachable. Still, I froze in place, not sure what to do. I had thinking to do, and this was my spot. I walked over to the dock, aware of him watching me, and I sat down on the edge, opposite where he sat. I slowly pulled my book out of the small bag I brought with me, along with a can of Coke and a Twix bar. I opened the candy, pulled out one of the bars and offered the rest to Owen. He stared at it for a three-count, and then, reached out and took it. We didn’t say a word to each other for the rest of the afternoon. We just. . .sat. We sat and let each other exist in the quiet of the summer evening, in a safe place with no judgment, no rules, and no one to impress. But that was a long time ago. A lifetime ago.