Free Foreign Exchange by Denise Jaden

out? I mean he seems to want to. Things were a little uncomfortable earlier because we were at school, and I’m sure that just being around him will help me relax and realize that he's only looking for a friend anyway.
    Because I don’t trust myself to open my mouth and talk to him, I send him a text. I only spend an hour and a half rewording the single sentence, in between feeding Eddy and taking him to the bathroom. I want my message to be something witty but with a little innuendo. The thing is, I’m not really the witty/innuendo kind of girl. Finally I settle on:
    Want to come over?
    As soon as I hit Send, my hands and armpits break into a wild sweat. I check on Eddy again. I’d left him with a checkers board and he’s sorting all the red and black disks into perfect piles of five. I’ve been trying to give him more hands-on things to play with, and I think he likes it.
    Having fun? I sign, when I get him to look up at me. He nods and signs back Yes, then immediately goes back to work, like he has some specific plan or system in mind for his game pieces.
    We’re alike that way : I like things to be organized and in order. Dad was like that too, as much as I remember of him, but Mom flies by the seat of her pants through life. It drives me crazy, especially when I have to make up for her lack of planning.
    Several minutes later, I'm still waiting for a response. I navigate to the foreign exchange program's Web site. I check the contact page, and sure enough, like Jennifer said, it’s the same email address I’d sent a message to earlier, and there's a bounced back copy in my inbox.
    My phone vibrates from beside me on the computer desk. I flip it over to see the reply from Sawyer.
    Really?
    My face instantly warms, sure he must see me as incredibly clingy or stupid or misreading of the situation. But then I think of how he'd been at my house in the dark the other night. Wanting to stay.
    I take a deep breath and hold it . I could get out of this before I’ve even started. I could say I was just kidding to see what he’d say.
    Co me to think of it, I haven’t even looked outside to see if he’s home. I peek through the drapes and don’t see his Jeep, but it could be in the garage.
    S uddenly I want to know. Is he home, or is he out with another girl, maybe Marci Voytek or Caitlyn Powers? And if he were out with another girl, would he drop her to come over and see me?
    I know it’s a horrible thought, but I still want it. I want it so badly that I’m typing into my phone again.
    Yes.
    Seconds later, another reply: Now?
    Yes.
    My hands are shaking. I feel the intense need to take the pressure off. Is he going to rush over here thinking I’ve gone all nymphomaniac and plan to jump him as soon as he walks in the door?
    I quickly text back one more time:
    Can you bring your laptop?
    There , that’ll give him the hint that I’m not completely sex-crazed. Maybe I want to work on homework or something.
    As much as I w ish I could be the aggressor, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. If we got back to where we were huddled over his laptop together, then could I make a tiny move? Do I even want to, or do I just want him around as a friend?
    Take risks, take risks, take risks.
    I race around tidying up and making sure Eddy is happily fed and has a sippy cup of water in front of him. I still don’t know if Sawyer’s home for sure, and I keep an eye out the front window to see if he drives in suddenly. Although, come to think of it, he didn’t actually say he was coming over, did he? I check my phone and it’s blank. But he hasn’t texted back to say no, either.
    A pair of headlights gleams down our street and a mix of emotions runs through me. Yes, he was probably with another girl , but he did leave her for me. Maybe my friendship is truly that important to him.
    But then I realize they’re not Sawyer’s blu e-tinged headlights. Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement. It’s the Bishops’ front