Dear Future Husband

February 2, 2019

Dear Future Main Squeeze,

Kill me.

Mr. Rollins moved me into honors chem.

And I think I'm going to have a stroke.

He came up to me on the last day of testing and was all like "Hey, Grant, I just finished grading your midterm and you did really well. I've been thinking about moving you up into Mrs. Bradley's honors class for this semester, that sound good?"

Now let me give you some background of what I was doing in that moment: Vanessa said she wanted to talk* to me in the greenhouse behind the school.

*Note: Talk most likely meant she wanted to bang because she has been subtly mentioning it for about a week now.**

**Another note: My feelings about banging haven't changed.

You can imagine that in that moment I was very nervous***, anxious****, and not in my right judgment*****.

***There were pools of sweat under my armpits and in my ass crack.

****My dick was going into panic mode because it didn't know if it should get hard for Vanessa or stay nice and soft for me.

***** I accidentally told Mr. Rollins I would definitely be up for it.

So to stall from going to have a talk in this greenhouse, I asked Mr. Rollins if he would go over some of the chem honors requirements and expectations when he got the chance (which thankfully happened to be at that moment).

So yeah.

Thanks, Vanessa.

Now I'm in a class full of sophomores smarter than I will ever be, in a subject that I was never really naturally good at at all.

On the bright side, Alina is my lab partner and I'm pretty sure she is one of the smartest kids in the class, plus I know her. She is actually the only thing keeping me in the class at the moment.

Who knows, maybe this will be good for me.

-Grant