Especially to a guy I liked. But somehow, saying it out loud to someone safe lifted a load for me. Instead of freaking out, or crying, I progressively...calmed. “I do it out of necessity,” he said, referring to sandbagging. “Back home it’s not cool to stick out, be smart. And being very smart? Deadly.” “What, you mean? Like in the hood?” “What? No I’m from the central valley.” I turned beet red. “It’s just not cool to be smart in my old school. So I’ve always hidden how smart I am. When I got. I wanted to take his t-shirt off and press my breasts against the window. I wished the t-shirt smelled like him instead of like a dryer sheet.I grabbed the phone and scrolled through our contact list. A few months ago we had a neighborhood watch meeting where they had us input each other's phone numbers in case of emergency. Well, wasn't this ache in my heart, not to mention the itch between my legs, somewhat of an emergency? I took a deep breath and pressed call."Hi Beth," he answered."Hi. More

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