AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I don’t look away. I want to let myself feel whatever this is, this cord of electricity humming between us.
I remember the day I told Owen how I felt. I didn’t think it was possible, but those feelings have only multiplied. My high school feelings pale in comparison to these grown-up ones.
“I. . .uh,” he stammers, and he moves closer.
My breath hitches.
“I. . .really should get back to work,” he says, breaking eye contact and the spell.
I blink, shaking my head clear, thinking that will help. “Right. Right, of course,” I say.
“And I should probably return the photo.”
You mean I don’t get to keep this for my private collection?
I hand it back and he takes it, and for a moment we’re both holding it at the same time.
He looks at it, and I wonder what he sees. “It’s a cool shot.”
I nod and let go.
There’s a pause.
“Thanks again for these.” He holds up the cookies.
“You’re welcome,” I hear myself say. “I’ll, uh, talk to you later then.” I’m lingering. Again. And I don’t even have keys to fumble with.
“Yeah, that’d be good.”
I turn and start back toward my car. My parents are still gone, so no Sunday dinner today, but that gives me time to catch up on podcast things and keep daydreaming about Owen.
I’m halfway to my car when something hits me.
Wait.
I never told Owen about the loafers.
I turn around as I’m saying— “How do you know—”
But he’s already back inside.
And I am full of questions.
Monday, after an uneventful day at work, a long phone call with the restoration company, and a not so sneaky drive by the fire station just in case Owen was, I don’t know, outside washing the engine. Shirtless. In October. I come home to find my mom working in the yard.
She stands when she sees me pull in. I grab my things from the back seat and get out, meeting her in the yard.
“Chili for dinner tonight,” she says.
“Corn bread?”
“Of course.” She smiles.
“Nice!” Mom’s corn bread is the stuff of legends. If she was around back then, her recipe would’ve canceled that old Hatfield and McCoy disagreement.
“Did you and dad have fun on your weekend away?” I ask. “Where did you go? The Biltmore Hotel?”
“Yes, and it was lovely. I had the best steak, and we ate breakfast in bed and—”
