𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓪

I backed away as he came behind the counter to take a stool and then sit across from me on the outside. His dark brown eyes centered on mine.

I looked down, feeling slightly panicked being alone with him.

"Sooo," he dragged, leaning closer. "Why'd you quit?"

I glanced at him, fiddling with the hem of my shirt. I couldn't look him in the eye or even begin to explain that men like him were the reason I quit. I was alone with him, surrounded by flowers. Knowing Violet was not far brought me some comfort.

"I don't think I'm comfortable with that."

"With telling me?" He scoffed, "Oh, come on. You can trust me, can't you?" The corners of his mouth tipped into a small, sweet smile.

I hesitated, uncertainty gnawing at my insides, but his charm was like a magnet, pulling me closer despite my better judgment. "It's just...personal," I stammered, trying not to reveal too much.

Owen leaned back with surprise, crossing his features. "Personal?... Well, now I'm even more curious." His voice dropped to a lower tone as he leaned in closer, invading my personal space. "I won't judge you, Clara."

I couldn't deny the pull of his words. "I-I don't know if I can trust anyone," I whispered, torn between the fear of revealing too much and the desperate longing for someone to understand.

Owen's eyes softened; a compassionate concern that seemed almost too perfect. "I understand. Sometimes, it's the people we run from that we truly need to face."

I looked at him then, an uneasiness settling into my bones, but wasn't there some truthfulness to his words? I observed Owen, the genuine concern and compassion highlighting his features.

Could he be trusted? Could he be someone to confide in? Could he be what Dominic is to Violet - for me? I met his gaze, both warm and comforting in that moment, hoping that my vulnerability won't be taken advantage of.

"Okay," my voice shakes. "I... I don't trust... men."

Owen's expression remained soft, and he leaned back slightly, giving me space to breathe. "I'm sorry to hear that, Clara," he responds, his tone genuine.

A sense of relief washed over me, an unexpected validation that eased some of my utmost fears. "...But why do you care?" I ask, a trace of skepticism seeping into my voice.

Owen's face contorts in slight hurt, his eyes reflecting concern. "Clara, please believe me when I say that I genuinely care." He pauses, putting a hand out slightly as if going to reach for mine. "I'm not going to lie when I say this, but I like you, and if you let me, I want to get to know you. You're beautiful."

I study Owen's face, searching for any hint of deception. But all I see is a mix of compassion and understanding.

Could I trust him?