Laughter echoed in my ears as I walked down the street. After regaining my balance the first thing that came to my mind was, “How could I have been so dumb?” Jake and I had been friends for years; he had seen me do stupid things before. Falling out of his car shouldn’t have been embarrassing. But it was.

When you grow up with someone, you usually form a strong bond. For Jake and me it was different. It was, and still is, a love hate relationship. When we were in elementary school we’d hang out and flirt all the time. Well, back then we didn’t know it was flirting. We just thought it was immensely fun to pick on each other. Jake finally asked me to be his girlfriend in fifth grade. What was I going to say, no? He wasn’t attractive in any way but we were friends, so I decided to give love a chance. We continued to argue and eventually broke up never really talking to each other again. If we did talk at all in middle school it wasn’t friendly. Apparently we weren’t meant to be—yet.

When high school came around we still didn’t talk, but carpooled to school together. Over the course of one summer Jake went through a massive growth spurt. Whatever baby fat he had was gone and all that remained was toned muscle he showed off by wearing tight shirts. His dark brown hair suddenly complemented his tanned skin perfectly and don’t even get me started on his beautiful, green, mysterious eyes. It wasn’t a surprise to anyone when he came home with a new girlfriend every week. Most people didn’t care; but I did. For three years I watched him walk hand in hand with every girl but me.

Jake got his license before I did and he got his own car. It was a two-door, Revlon red, sports car. Someone as good looking as he was wouldn’t settle for anything less than perfect when it came to vehicles. When he started driving us to school, it was horrible. He never stopped at stop signs, sped in residential zones, and blared his music. I thought about saying something, but decided against it. I mean, everybody loves a daring bad-boy right? If only I had known in fifth grade.

The worst part of carpooling with him occurred after school. His sister and I would walk out and there he was standing next to his fiery red car, muscles tense, waiting impatiently. God, he was gorgeous! If only I could say the same for myself. My hair was greasy from walking around no matter what day of the week it was; there was no way I could do that sports car justice. On a particularly good hair day I decided to try my luck at being sexy. Not to appeal to his more masculine side, but to show him that I had grown up since elementary school and I could be attractive too. My plan backfired.

I was sitting in the back behind Jake and in order to get out he had to pull his seat forward. He did so and then everything went wrong. I realized while my plan was in motion that there was no way to get out of the back seat of a two door car and not look like you’re cookie dough plopping off of the spoon and onto the pan. It was too late to change my plan: I put both feet forward and stuck them straight out feeling for the ground. Next, it was time for the rest of my body. As I hoisted myself out of the car, it happened. I hit my head on the door, stumbled, and fell. Did Jake reach out and grab me with those muscular arms, pull me close, and ask me if I was ok while looking directly into my soul though my eyes? Oh no. He laughed. That horrible, nasty, sweet, charming laugh turned my entire face red. I walked down the street brushing it off as if nothing had happened. Half way down the street I heard his car pull up next to me.

“You left your book,” he snickered passing it to me through the passenger window.

“Stupid car,” I grumbled rubbing my head trying to play it cool.

“My car is sexy,” he replied before speeding away.