“Oh,” I say, my chest growing tighter with worry about rumors I fear Owen is about to confirm.

“There was this big kid, his name was Hunter, and his dad was on the town council or something like that. Anyway, Hunter made my life a living hell. He told everyone…” Owen looks away, taking a deep breath, so I reach over and tug on his sleeve to bring him back to me. When he turns, his face tilts to the side, and his lips form a perfectly straight line, not a smile, but not a frown. They are complete nothingness.

“About your dad?” I finish for him.

Owen nods, looking down at his feet. “He would follow me home with his friends, yelling shit like ‘your daddy was a crazy man’ and ‘when are you going to go crazy?’”

“That’s not very nice,” I say, and inside my head I paint a mental picture where I punch this Hunter kid. Owen smiles at my response.

“Yeah, well, one day I brought James’s gun to school, and I told Hunter about it and said I was going to shut him up,” Owen says, his eyes drifting into that dark place as he remembers. His confession is scaring me, but I hold my ground and keep the worry away from my face.

“I didn’t mean it. I was just acting tough. And I didn’t know any better. My grandpa practically raised us, and he wasn’t very well most of my life. And my mom, she was working, even back then. But Hunter ran to his dad, who called the cops, busted my locker open, and the next thing I know my mom was piecing together every penny in our savings account to bail my ass out of juvie.”

“Wow…I gotta be honest. I was expecting you to tell me it was all lies,” I say, unable to stop my upper body from convulsing in a shiver as the breeze picks up, dropping the air another ten degrees. Without pause, Owen unzips his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders, still careful not to let his hands touch my skin.

“Thank you,” I smile, pulling the sleeves over my arms and wrapping myself with the fabric still carrying the warmth from his body. I imagine for the briefest moment that instead of his jacket, I’m in his arms.

“You want me to be honest?” Owen says, and there’s a glimmer in his eyes that worries me, making me wonder, but I nod anyhow, giving a slight tip of my chin, then I wrap my arms and Owen’s hoodie around me even tighter. “If there’s a rumor you’ve heard about me…” he says, his head tilting down ever so slightly to make sure my eyes are met by his, “it’s probably true.”

“You held a gun to your head?” My question is a whisper, my inner voice pleading for him to tell me everything except that. Everything. Except that.

Owen stands his ground, his head still tilted so our eyes are locked, and he never flinches. Not. Once.

I wipe the tear away quickly, but not before he sees it, and his mouth falls with his spirit.

“Why?” I ask.

Owen shrugs at first, looking beyond my shoulder. When I turn, I notice our friends are walking toward us, Elise excitedly leading the way. When I turn back, I catch Owen’s intense gaze waiting for me.

“I don’t really smoke. And if you’ve ever noticed, I don’t do drugs. I never once take that shit my friends pass around. I drink. Yeah, I do drink, but that’s it. The rest? The rest are all risks I control. I like to feel that edge, to know where it is,” he says, a fire flashing in his eyes.

“But what happens when you lose?” I ask, and his fire fades quickly, and suddenly he’s back here with me.

“Then I’ll know I’m just like him,” he says, and my chest completely slams closed, my heart exploding all at once.

“Ryan’s sick. I made him go on the big drop too many times,” Elise says, and I breathe in a sharp, quick breath—trying to erase, or at the very least bury, everything I just heard.

“Oh, poor guy. You guys done then?” I ask, trying to ignore the look Willow is giving me over the fact that I’m smothering myself in Owen’s jacket. I’m far deeper than she realizes.

“Elise wants to ride the big wheel, then we can go…” Ryan stops himself, looking at his friend and realizing his major slip. Everyone is hit with discomfort simultaneously, and no one wants to be the next to speak.

“It’s okay. Really,” Owen says, being brave. Perhaps just taking a risk. “I’m here, and that was hard enough. It’s just a stupid Ferris wheel.”

“Right, it’s way different, too,” Willow says, but Jess leans into her shoulder hard, stopping her from making this worse. “I just meant…from when we were kids…shit. I’m sorry Owen. Hey, I’m just going to go buy my ticket.”