Chapter 6 Taking Evidence

The familiar chime of the bookstore doors rang behind us, and for a second, I forgot why we were here.

The smell hit me first. Fresh paper, coffee from the café upstairs, and the faint scent of candles that somehow convinced people they needed another decorative object they absolutely did not need.

My kind of place.

Which was exactly the problem.

Two years ago, I could spend hours here without realizing the time. Austin would usually find me somewhere between the fiction shelves and the stationery aisle, holding five things I didn't need while insisting I was only looking.

Now, I was here to collect evidence for a fake engagement.

My life choices had officially become questionable.

"So..." I looked around, trying not to sound as awkward as I felt. "Now what?"

Austin slipped his hands into his pockets and scanned the store like he was analyzing a business proposal instead of standing in a bookstore.

"Just be normal."

I stopped near the stationery section and crossed my arms. "What kind of normal does Austin Wood even do these days?"

The question came out sharper than I intended.

For a moment, I expected him to argue. Instead, he just shrugged.

"Do whatever you usually do."

I blinked.

"That's your plan?"

"Yes."

"Wow. Very detailed. And reassuring."

A small smile appeared at the corner of his mouth before disappearing.

It was unfair how easily I noticed things like that.

I turned away before my brain could start analyzing a two-second facial expression like it was a crime scene.

The notebooks caught my attention first. They always did.

I picked one up with a floral cover, running my fingers over the embossed pattern.

"Okay, this one is cute."

Austin glanced at the notebook.

"You still buy notebooks you don't need."

I looked at him. "Excuse me?"

"You always did."

"That's not true."

His eyebrow lifted slightly.

I was going to give my best argue but nothing came out. And annoyingly, he had a point.

"Don't judge me." 

"I'm not."

"Your tone judged me."

"My tone said nothing."

"Your tone has opinions."

He didn't argue, which somehow made it worse.

I moved to the bookmarks next, picking up one after another while pretending I wasn't aware of him standing beside me.

Except I was. I was painfully aware.

A soft click interrupted my thoughts.

I turned around.

Austin lowered his phone slightly.

"Did you just take my picture?"

"Yes."

My eyes widened. "Austin!"

"We need evidence."

He lifted the phone again.

"Smile."

I immediately stepped back. "No."

"You smiled five seconds ago."

"When?"

He looked genuinely confused by my confusion.

"In the stationery aisle."

"I did not."

"You did."

"When did I do that?" I was flustered.

Austin didn't even hesitate.

"You always smile when you're in the bookstore."

I went quiet.

Again.

Because he was right.

Again.

It wasn't just about the smile. It was the fact that he noticed it in the first place. Somewhere between all the things I thought were too ordinary for anyone to remember, Austin had somehow kept these tiny pieces of me stored away.

The annoying thing was that I didn't even know he had been paying attention.

I looked down at the bookmark in my hand, suddenly fascinated by the tiny fox illustration printed on the corner. Anything was better than looking at him and admitting that a simple sentence had somehow managed to throw me off balance.

Because this was Austin.

He had always been like this.

He noticed when I skipped lunch. He remembered how I took my coffee. He knew which shelves I would disappear into whenever we came here.

Back then, I never thought much about it.

It was just Austin being Austin.

Except now, after two years of barely knowing what was happening in each other's lives, those little things felt different.

The worst part wasn't that he remembered.

The worst part was that, for one tiny second, standing in the middle of a bookstore we used to waste hours in...

I forgot we were pretending.

"How many pictures did you take?" I asked, mostly because I needed something else to focus on.

"Seven."

"Seven?"

"You needed options."

I stared at him. "For what? A fake engagement documentary?"

"Your mother might ask questions."

I sighed.

Of course.

Only Austin Wood could turn a fake engagement into a full investigation preparation.

Before I could come up with another argument, he stepped closer.

Too close.

His arm slipped around my shoulder, easy and familiar, like he hadn't spent the last two years standing on the other side of a distance neither of us knew how to cross.

My brain immediately forgot how to function. "The f—"

"Smile."

Austin lifted his phone, completely calm, adjusting the angle like he wasn't currently ruining my ability to think.