They had come to an agreement - it was a thick book and he could be sweet. Hounslow was far, Victoria was near. I'll bring mine somedays.
But you don't like carrying books? She said.
I don't mind.
And you don't like coming to classes either.
I'll come, when you come.
He found it years later; somewhere within the pages of the green hard hardcover of the Norton Shakespeare - between The Rape of Lucrece and A Lover's Complaint - she had hid a little note.
The way you touched me --
Touch me like that tonight too?