𝔽₳𝜯Ǝ

Lose Myself

"So what were you thinking about?" I asked.

She straightened up again and considered me once more. After a moment she said, "Remember on our first date how I said you've gotten pretty cute?"

"Yeah."

"I changed my mind I think," she ran a finger along the outer lobe of my ear. Chills ran up my spine. Damn, that felt good.

"Oh yeah?" I said, my voice softer than I intended.

She nodded. "I think you're pretty damn sexy."

Okay, full blush now.

She grinned, "I like it when you blush."

More blood to the face and I looked away.

She pulled my face back up with a finger under my chin. Her other hand brushed my bangs out of my eyes, and she said, "I'm serious though. I guess I didn't realize how smart turned me on until I got to watch you in action."

I laughed a little (still blushing like a fiend though).

"In-action?" I asked.

She nodded, "I was always sorting of in awe of the way you could make me understand stuff, even after teachers had given up trying, and I thought that made you pretty smart. But now I watch you do your work, all this stuff," she reached down and picked up one of my pages of notes, "This stuff isn't even in a language I recognize, I mean, it kinda looks like math, but it's like, weird symbols and letters and numbers with funny lines, and you just look at it and make other numbers out of it. And I just know you're right because you're that damn smart."

Okay, I was seriously blushing now. I'd never heard of intelligence turning a girl on before. Muscles, sure. Athleticism. Good looks, charm, wit, even humor. But 'smarts'? No way. Not in a girl that looked like Becky.

"Yeah, Jake, it makes you fucking sexy as hell," she said, maybe even reading my thoughts, "Because I know that even as cute, funny, and nice as you are, that's not even the best thing about you. Its this." she gentle tapped my forehead. She leaned down again and kissed me. It was a turned-on kiss, she was seriously turned on. After making out with someone for a few months, you learn the signals.

Holy shit.!! She was turned on.

"God, and you don't even know how great you are, that's even hotter," she breathed against me.

I gulped. Fuck me, I was getting emotional.

My whole life, I've known I was smart. I mean, you figure this shit out pretty quick actually; one of the benefits of being smart. Teachers tell your parents at conferences, you begin to notice you figure things out way easier than your peers, and pretty soon, it dawns on you that you are, "Smart." At first, this is pretty awesome. Figuring stuff out is kind of a rush. That moment of comprehension when everything clicks, and that happens a lot when you're smart. So you start finding more stuff to figure out, and wonderfully, this makes you even smarter as you learn more stuff.

But then other people - your peers - start figuring out you're smart and figuring out that you are smarter than them. Sometimes this is a good thing; you get attention as they ask you to help them figure things out. Sometimes - most times - they get annoyed when you figure things out before them because it makes them feel lesser. When you are very smart, you become an ape with a stick among so many chattering monkeys, and you begin to resent them back. Why the fuck can't they figure even the easiest things out? For fuck's sake, a monkey could get these people! You start treating your intellectual inferiors as just that and elevating yourself above them, and suddenly they aren't your peers anymore.

And now you're the kid getting thrown in a dumpster full of rotten cottage cheese.

So after a decade of the roller coaster of the high that comes with the joy of discovery and learning, and the anger and resentment that forms between you and your former peers, to be told by a girl that you really, honestly care about, and is so far your intellectual inferior that you're helping teach a class she's barely passing, that the sexiest thing about you is the source of all of the above.

Well fuck, my friend, you'd get emotional too.

I looked away before she could see the first tear fall.

"Hey, what's wrong?" she asked, suddenly concerned. She lifted my face back up, her blue eyes full of worry.

I sniffled. In what I hoped, was a manly kind of sniffle, which is probably an impossibility.

"Nothing, come here." I pulled her down and kissed her pretty hard. This wasn't me letting her kiss me, or slow sensual exploration. This was me kissing her. Trying to block out a sudden flood of years of torment and confusion, of resentment and rejection. Of feeling alone in a crowded hallway. She kissed me back, surprised, but just as hard. I wanted to make the world go away with our kissing again. I wanted to lose myself in her lips, and her tongue, and her breath. I wanted to lose myself in her.