Bo Randolph looked like a good time. From the tip of his constantly tousled hair, down the long stretch of his body, the arms that look like they could hold you up for hours and the wide mobile mouth that made you think he’d enjoy every minute of it to the tips of his large booted feet.
If you were into a good time, which I was not. Not because I was against hookups but because I fell in love in a minute. A kiss from his lips would be like the first hit off the crackpipe for someone with addictive tendencies. Just sitting next to him in class made me hyperaware of my own body. Who knew your forearms could feel aroused? I needed a life prophylactic.