I had been trying to concentrate. But even in the silence of the library, this dissertation wasn't proving easy to write. Every time I tried to focus on writing the next paragraph id catch him checking me out. He had been standing in front of that bookshelf holding the same copy of Albert Camus for ages. Every time we locked eyes we had both looked away sheepishly.
I couldn't take my eyes of her. There were other girls studying at desks but all could look at was her. She looked incredible in that short checked skirt and ribbed top, so tight it made her round breasts standout perfectly. My eyes were wandered onto her legs, so tanned and toned. When she crossed them over revealing even more of her thigh, I was transfixed, she looked so sexy. I stood and pretended to browse the fiction section while I tried to steal as many glances of her that I could. When she looked up and spotted me, I saw the colour of her piercing, blue eyes. I looked away embarrassed but then turned to smile back at her, but it was too late. Her head was down, returned to her studies once more.
With every sentence I tried to write, I started to think about him. His hair, his brown eyes, what body might lie beneath that fitted shirt of his. My pen stopped altogether when I imagined him naked in front of me. I shook my head. What on earth was happening to me? Grabbing my hair I twisted it in to a bun and fastened it up. Focus, I have to focus.
The way she had sat up and fixed her hair turned me on. As her hands tied up her bun behind her head it pushed forward her chest, making her breasts look even more amazing. From the tightness of the top I could even make out her nipples beneath it. I could take any more I had to do something.
What was the use in even trying when all I could think of was him, his body, what his lips might taste like. How his skin would feel against mine and how his cock might feel in my hand. It occupied my entire mind, my fingers could almost feel him even though they had never yet known him. I could feel myself aching for him, needing him. I couldn't wait any longer. I had to know more.
I looked up and gazed only on a bookshelf. That copy of 'The Stranger', sat on the shelf, but there was no one around. Had I dreamed this guy into existence? My heart sank as a sense of regret crept in. Maybe if only I had looked up sooner? smiled at him. I turned back to my dissertation on the desk and flipped over next page in the text book. It had been torn out. Great. Sighing, I pushed back my chair and headed over to the non-fiction in the back of the library, hoping that there was a second copy containing all the pages.
As I turned down the quiet aisle, I stopped abruptly. There he was, his back turned towards me, leaning against the bookshelf. My Heart raced as I stepped towards him. I scanned the shelfs for the textbook I needed, finally I found it, on the bottom shelf right next to him.
