I decide on waffles, get at the end of the line, and pick up a tray. The guy in front of me drums his fingers on the back of his tray impatiently. His fingers are long and strong-looking… somehow just really attractive. I let my gaze move up to his forearms and appreciate them in the same way. Tan and toned. The gray T-shirt he’s wearing hugs his back and the short sleeves are snug against his biceps. Muscular but not too beefy.

When it’s finally his turn, he sets the tray down and grabs a plate. With his profile to me, I take in his straight nose and sharp cheekbones. Dark, messy hair that I have the ridiculous urge to run my fingers through, sticks up on his head.

I think maybe I spent too many days in my dorm room crying over Bryan. I’m flat out gawking at this point, but it’s a little hard not to. This guy is attractive without even getting a front view. He has this whole look about him that feels like he didn’t bother glancing in the mirror this morning. Actually now that I think about it, it’s a little frustrating that I spent twenty minutes taming my hair while he rolled out of bed and managed to look like that.

Damn. Welcome to Valley, Ginny.

He proceeds to fill his plate with four waffles. These aren’t the size of the small, frozen waffles that you pop in the toaster, they are huge, bigger than my head waffles. He grabs a second plate and fills that one with bacon and eggs farther down the line. He glances between his plates and the food still left on the warmers ahead like he might not be finished.

I chuckle and he glances back at me. My breath hitches when his blue eyes meet mine. Not blue, a thousand shades of blue. He gives me a sheepish smile.

“Can you hand me another plate?” His deep voice washes over me, vibrating my insides. He’s a lot to take in, but I do, not able to stop myself. His hair isn’t only dark brown, it has hints of lighter strands too. It’s like no part of him could decide on being one thing and instead he’s made up of varying shades and depths.

He has an athletic build, tall but not towering over me like Bryan did. My ex was six foot four, which made him a great height to see over a mass of bodies on the football field, but not so great for kissing without standing on my tiptoes. I’m standing here wondering if I could kiss this guy flat-footed.

Aaand he asked me a question.

“Are you serious?”

He doesn’t bat an eye, so I grab another plate and hand it to him.

“Thanks.”