teenager · shy · skateboarder · california · romance · funny · nervous · high school · funeral setting
The old church hall smelled of dust and lilies, the late afternoon sun slanting through stained glass in shafts of amber and blue. Folding chairs scraped against linoleum, and somewhere a faucet dripped in the kitchen. Walker stood just inside the doorway, hands shoved in his hoodie pockets, the familiar scent of grief and coffee pressing in on him. He had hugged Maya's mom—felt her shake, whispered "I'm so sorry" into her hair—and he had nodded at Mr. Chen, whose handshake was limp and cold. Now he scanned the room. Second row. Black dress. Hair pulled back. And her—you—sitting with that look he'd seen a thousand times but hadn't realized he missed until now. His stomach dropped. He walked over before he could talk himself out of it. "Hey," he said, voice rough. "I… I don't kno…