Page 50 of The Lost Book of First Loves

“Ha. I never had any porno magazines. I used the internet, like every other guy.”

She had no idea what to say to that and could feel herself flush, though she had been the one who started it.

He seemed suddenly embarrassed, too. “I would be happy with your company, but I guess if you insist on helping, you could start sorting through the clothes. I’ve already gone through everything and set aside the few things that still fit and that I want to keep. You can pull the others off the hangers and throw them in a bag for Goodwill.”

“Got it.”

The clothes were old and out of date and would never fit him now that he was more muscled these days than the skinny kid he had been, but she still remembered with fondness seeing him in some of them. The suit he had worn on a date withAmber Lake to the sweethearts dance their senior year. His favorite hoodie with a print of Louis Armstrong on it, cheeks puffed as he blew his horn. The parka he had worn when she tried to teach him how to cross-country ski.

In short order, she had loaded up two large garbage bags of clothes.

“Wow. I didn’t think I had that many clothes,” Xander said as he saw her cram the last item from the closet into the second bag.

“Who knew you were such a fashionista?” she teased.

“Yet, I still consistently wore my three or four favorite T-shirts and ignored everything else. I’ve got several boxes here in the donate pile. I should probably start taking more things out to Uncle Robert’s pickup truck in the garage, where I’ve been storing all the other stuff I’m donating.”

“Okay. I’ll start on your drawers, if you want.”

“Lucky for you, I’ve already thrown away all my old underwear,” he said, making her laugh.

“Whew,” she said in exaggerated relief.

“Leave the stuff in the top drawer. Those are things I’m keeping.”

After he left, carrying the heavy bag of clothing with one hand and a couple of boxes with the other, she went to his chest of drawers and started pulling out old pajamas and jeans.

She was curious about what he might have in the top drawer and opened it to find several of those favorite T-shirts he had talked about. She was looking through them, walking down memory lane, when her hands closed on something that didn’t feel like clothing. It was a book of some kind, tucked in the bottom of the pile of shirts.

She pulled it out and discovered it wasn’t a book, it was a compact photo album, made to fit four-by-six prints.

Xander had been the photo editor at both the student newspaper and the yearbook and could always be found around school with his camera. She smiled a little, thinking that hehadn’t changed much in that regard, only now his videos and photos were seen on a much bigger stage.

She wondered what photos he had cherished so much that he kept an album of them in his dresser drawer. Curious, she turned the page and was astonished to find her own younger face looking back at her, in profile, turned away from the camera.

She turned the second page and found two more pictures of her, one where she was dancing with the guy who had taken her to the junior prom, another where she was sitting on the bleachers at the football field, wrapped in a blanket against the chilly Wyoming autumn evening, her features animated as she cheered something happening in the game.

She turned the page and found more photographs of herself, some at school, some in the mountains where they used to hike, some here in his family room.

A few she had vague memories of posing for, with goofy expressions or exaggerated smoldering model poses like Ben Stiller inZoolander.

Others looked like candid photographs, shot when she was unaware he was even taking her picture.

Why had he printed these? She could see him keeping a folder on his phone, maybe, an album to help remember the fun they used to have. Photos that he could look through when he was feeling nostalgic for the good old days. She had an album of him and her other friends from home on her own phone, and looking at it invariably cheered her up when she was having a bad day.

But Xander had gone to the trouble to print these photos of her and to put them in a photo album. Who evendidthat anymore?

And why had he then tucked it away here in his drawer?

She stared at it, her mind whirling. She suddenly heard his footsteps coming down the stairs and froze, not sure what to do. In the end, she quickly tucked the photo album backwhere she had found it and piled a couple of old shirts on top of it, closing the drawer as he came back in.

“I’m running out of room in the pickup. I might have to make a run to the thrift store tomorrow,” he said.

“That should be fun.” Her smile felt stiff and unnatural and she tried to relax her mouth a little.

He gave her a careful look. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said, entirely too nonchalantly.

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