The guy looked roughly my age. His dirty-blond hair was a mess, like he’d just rolled out of bed and hadn’t bothered combing it, but the rest of him looked all right. More than all right, actually. Especially the way that long-sleeved green Henley he wore clung to his broad chest and shoulders. And the thick-rimmed glasses perched on the end of his nose shouldn’t have worked. But somehow, they really, really did.
