Page 47 of The Charm of You

I untuck his senior yearbook out from its place and waltz to the bed, where I sit on the edge and flip it open. On the open pages where signatures and well wishes should be, the spaces are completely blank. I skim to the end to check the pages in the back too, but I only find two messages. One congratulates him on winning first place at GSW, and the other wishes him well at community college.

I don’t recognize either of the names signed below the notes.

I continue flipping through the pages, my heart thumping as I jump into the past. This book is like a time capsule, holding bits and pieces of Austin’s life, and the urge to know more claws at my chest.

“Ma was right when she said you’d probably gotten lost.”

I jolt, and the book slides off my lap. Bending at the waist, I scoop to the floor to retrieve it and stand upright again, clutching it to my chest as I face the large figure in the doorway.

He leans one shoulder against the frame and rests a hand in his pocket.

My gaze travels over his body and stops to peruse the solid dress shirt, in particular. It’s not plaid or flannel, and it threw me off when I first saw him tonight. It looks rather good on him, though. The thin fabric stretches tightly over his bulging muscles every time he moves.

The button-down shirt sinks into a V, the bottom tip of which settles just above the valley of his pecs.

He’s tan, and a dusting of light hair peeks out from between the edges of his shirt.

My fingers itch to slide inside and across his impressive chest.

I bite my lip for fear that a moan might actually escape. He’s simply standing in the doorway, but I feel like I’m watching him rise from a freaking pool, dripping wet and downright sexy.

This is ridiculous.

“I’m not lost.” I force a swallow.

If I weren’t witnessing him step through the door, I’d bet he wouldn’t fit.

It’s hard to believe there was a time this guy easily stepped through that door, or that he comfortably slept on this bed. It seems too small for him.

“You’re purposely snooping, then?” He lifts a brow and eases to a stop a foot away from me.

“I wasn’t snooping.” I snap my gaze up to lock onto his. “I’m in this yearbook too, so I have the right to flip through it.”

“That’s not how it works, but nice try.” He wiggles the book from my grasp, and with a single step, he reaches the shelf and slips it back into place next to the others.

“What does GSW stand for?” I shift on my feet behind him.

He doesn’t immediately turn around or answer, but I have nowhere to be. So, I sit on the edge of the bed again and wait.

“Georgia State Woodworking competition,” he finally says.

“What did you build that got you first place?”

He shakes his head. “So much for not snooping.”

“I was curious.” I shrug.

Austin sighs like I’m asking for his ATM pin, so I can drain his bank account. I haven’t figured him out yet, and it’s driving me crazy. He either really hates talking about himself, or he simply despises sharing with me. In any case, I’m too intrigued to stop myself.

Besides, I’m not asking for much here.

“You agreed to be friends with me,” I remind him. “Friends chat.”

“My friends know I hate chatting.”

“If you’re close with Addie Lockhart, that means you chat.” I snort. “The woman takes nothing less than openness and honesty.”

Austin scratches the back of his head. “And she’s a damn pain in my ass for that.”

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