The gate swung open.

Levi stood at the front door in frayed jeans and a worn T-shirt, his feet bare.

My brain kind of stuttered, unsure of what to unpack first. The dusting of flour on his shirt? The fact that his home smelled like freshly baked cookies? Or the black rectangular frames he wore that drew attention to his thickly fringed eyes that were the dark blue of deep well water?

"I forgot you wore glasses."

He'd worn them one year at camp when he'd ...