Jake 1

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I hear the giggle again and peek around the stack of books in front of me.  There aren't many people in this library at ten P.M. on a Saturday night.  Most people our age are out celebrating the win for the football team earlier today.

I would like to be one of them, but I am buried in homework already, only one week into my junior year at Oregon.

There, a girl with light brown hair in an oversized sweatshirt, sitting by herself in the corner.  The light from her tablet reflects off her glasses perched on her upturned nose.  

I see her grin in glee and glance around, blushing furiously.

Her expression makes me smile.  She's obviously reading something that she would be embarrassed to tell someone about.

I see a few books in front of her, but she isn't working on homework.  

Why is she here by herself at this time of night if she doesn't have to be?

There is something familiar about her?  Her light brown hair and plain features are unremarkable, and I can't see her figure for the bulky clothing, but something is there that I can't put my finger on.

Then I look back at the table in front of her and recognize a familiar text book.  That's what it is!  She's in my photography class!

I've been saving that homework  to last because it is the easiest, or it should have been, but none of my friends wanted to pose for a portrait for my class.

There's that giggle again.

I am out of my seat before I realize I am up.  

She glances up and her face freezes when she realizes I am walking toward her.  I see her eyes widen in alarm when I stop at her table.  "Good book?"  I ask.



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