ied something heavy on his shoulders, or how he barely spoke to the movers bustling around him. Maybe it was the way his dark hair fell over his forehead, hiding
the golden hues of late afternoon melting into dusky purples, casting long shadows across the street. He looked tall-too tall for someone who couldn't be much older than s
strawberry-blonde hair refused to cooperate no matter how much she brushed it. She hated that this boy, whoever he was, had a smooth, unblemished face. His s
boy suddenly turne
uses. Her stomach twisted, a sharp jolt of panic shooting through her as she realized she'd been caught staring. Before she
bly thought she was
t if they thought she was spying on them? She could already hear her mother scolding her, reminding
ht made h
e wasn't looking at her window anymore. Instead, he was staring down at the ground, his shoulders s
d, tilting
as his
hool year. And the way he carried himself, the way he barely interacted wi
l, but insistent-w
at was still embarrassed about being
opped onto her bed, st
ybe he'd pretend he hadn't seen her spying on him, and they'd g
robably fo
didn't like the
t's what she