As we sit on the cold bleachers, with a blanket across our legs, knees touching, I decide I never want to stop talking to her. I’m pulled out of the moment as the realization hits me. In my eyes, Summer is a goddess. She has a wicked sense of humor that matches my own, she’s crazy smart but doesn’t like to make a show of it, she’s beautiful inside and out, and has a body I’d do anything to touch. She’s also hiding some deep issues that I assume revolve around her family. She doesn’t need another guy wanting to get under her skirt; she needs a friend. And right now, I could use one too. Would
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