RAW DESIRES:{50 Stories of Passion}
The main reading room stretched out, rows of tables dotted with forgotten laptops and half-empty coffee cups.
I headed straight for the back stacks, the third floor, history section. It was my secret spot, it was quiet and secluded, with just enough dust in the air to make it feel like a forgotten world.
Dropping my bag onto a low shelf, I pulled out my notes on the Industrial Revolution and settled cross-legged on the floor, leaning against a towering row of leather-bound tomes. The words blurred after a while, my mind wandering to Nike from my econ class. God, the way he’d leaned over my desk last week, his breath warm against my ear as he whispered about the assignment.