Page 176 of Becoming Us

“My mom liked the book.” His voice was deep, low, like it rolled right out of him. His brows lifted just slightly, a small crease forming between them like he regretted what he said.

Okay, that was cute.

I bit back a smile. And snapped my fingers. “Atticus Finch.”

His expression flickered—surprise, then a barely there softening around the eyes. He nodded. He was like a fucking ice prince, and I wanted nothing more than to melt him. My grin stretched across my face, and I probably looked like a creep, but I didn’t care. He kept holding my gaze. The music got a little louder.

“What position did you play?” Ezra, the other friend, asked. He glanced at Atticus and shook his head like he was trying tosignal something. Atticus might have attempted to follow it, but he just looked confused.

“Middle blocker,” I said.

Atticus’s face lit up. It was the lightest gesture, but it melted some of the ice off.

God, he was so fucking handsome.

“And you went here? Why didn’t you join?” Ezra asked.

“Not interested anymore.” There really was no point to it.

Before that thought could spiral, Atticus frowned, and I found myself watching the way his expression shifted. Those tiny changes on his face were magnetic.

Ezra pushed his beer toward him, making him take a sip. He scrunched his face, slightly, when he did. Adorably.

Colin offered me one, and I nodded, my eyes still catching on the shape of Atticus’s forearms.

Ezra stepped in closer. “You know, that’s just his face. He’s not unfriendly. We’ll be right back.”

I forced myself not to grin. Atticus looked mortified at his friend’s declaration. Poor guy. He was obviously shy. Maybe I could get him talking.

“I heard you had a good game today.”

“We won,” he said—kind of pointlessly. Then he winced like he knew it.

I chuckled. “Yeah, I heard. So you’re a freshman and already a regular on the team? That’s impressive.” I figured volleyball might warm him up.

“I’ve been playing my whole life.” He cleared his throat.

Shy was definitely a good look on him. Not that he had any clue what kind of effect he had. Fucking gorgeous.

A little louder. Now I could make it out;Faithby George Michael. Yeah. That was perfect for him.

“The regular setter graduated last year,” he explained, and it clicked.

My friend David had told me about this guy. I knew him from my freshman year, and he was also part of the volleyball team. He’d told me at a party the last time I saw him that a huge freshman had taken over his new spot as starting setter. He also said he was scary as fuck. I couldn’t say I saw any of that.

“Yeah, David’s better at blocking.”

Atticus nodded. “That’s right. He’s pretty tall.” A hint of a smile flickered across his face. Then he frowned again. “How did you know that? Have you been keeping up with the team?”

“I still like it. I just don’t want to be on it,” I said. “Plus, David’s a friend of mine.” I watched his eyes take that in—sharp and clear like shards of ice. “You’re pretty tall too. You’ve got to be what? Six-three?”

I gave him a once-over with zero shame. Ten wasn’t a high enough rating for him. He broke the damn scale.

“Six-two.”

Mother, have mercy.

“And you’re nineteen?”