1993
Jools had seen the cute guy several times in the campus library the last few weeks. He was always quiet and smiled politely at everyone and sat in the same spot close to the BUSINESS section. Judging from the books spread out on the table in front of him, he was a junior or senior, so around three or four years younger than Jools.
Jools’ gaze was drawn in the guy’s direction every time he set foot in the library—as though Jools was a compass needle and the guy was North. No matter how hard he tried to look away, he couldn’t.
The cutie was maybe five inches shorter than Jools’ own six-two, but he was willowy and sleek where Jools was muscles and bulk. He had hair like dark chocolate he kept cropped short to the scalp, a perpetual five o’clock shadow on his pointy chin, and almond-sh
