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    For the next few minutes, I’m off somewhere in my mind,
wandering around in a daze. The world around me diminishes into a blur. I know
I’m walking with him, and I feel his hand holding mine, guiding me down the
street. A moment later, we’re in the concrete basement of some garage, and I
hear the beep-beep of his security system on his car and see the latches pop up
on the doors. His bumper is still wrapped in tape.
    “You didn’t get a loaner yet?”
    “Tomorrow, I’ll have one.”
    I glance at the damage that I’ve done to his lovely car, and
the sense of mortification returns. If I had watched what I was doing, I
wouldn’t be here now—with him—the perfect specimen of manhood, who is far too
good to be with a girl like me. Of course, I could be prejudging him solely
based on his smoking looks and kindness. He could be a monster underneath, just
like the rest. A woman never knows. My half smile fades into a frown as the
memories of former brutes flood my mind.
    “You okay?” he asks, as he opens the car door for me.
    “I’m a bit tired.” Hasty lies always hide the feelings. I
can’t tell him the truth for heaven’s sake. We’ve just met.
    The journey home is quiet. He appears immersed in his own
thoughts, but he’s driving straight toward where I live. “I should give you
directions,” I offer, a bit surprised he hasn’t asked.
    “No, that’s okay. I checked on the Internet and mapped it
out,” he says nonchalantly.
    Ingenious man, I think to myself with a tad of
suspicion. I decide to check the web for information on him when I get home.
    Surprisingly, I feel comfortable with his driving. I don’t
usually like the passenger seat. That out-of-control feeling sweeps over me. I
look at the dashboard and see he’s not speeding. He’s following the car ahead
at a safe distance. He’s an excellent driver. It’s probably the perfection part
in him that I am sensing.
    While I’m thinking about it, some car speeds by him and cuts
in front. It startles me, and I grab the arm rest. He doesn’t flinch. Now, I’m
thoroughly impressed. Not a trace of road rage tendency stirs him whatsoever.
    “That was a close one.” He glances over at me with a
concerned look.
    “Yeah. Crazy drivers,” I moan with self-righteousness.
    “There are a few, that’s for sure.” He smirks.
    “Probably not the thing to be saying after my own faux pas
of this morning.”
    Now he’s grinning from ear to ear. He turns his head quickly
and winks at me, then looks back at the road. I relax in my seat for the
remainder of the way home.
    Ian pulls up to my apartment complex and magically arrives
in front of the exact building. He finds a visitor-only parking spot, turns off
the car, and reaches over to pat my hand.
    “Let me walk you to the door.”
    “Uh, no, that’s okay.” I feel compelled to refuse his offer,
afraid he’s going to want an invitation to come in.
    “Just to the door,” he says, opening his and climbing out.
    He comes around and opens my door and then offers his hand
for me to take. I look into his sincere, kind eyes and release my fate into his
palm. It’s unusual for someone to take care of me with such thoughtfulness. I
don’t know how to respond.
    After I’m out, he releases my hand, and I start walking
toward my apartment. “I’m on the third floor,” I tell him, taking the first
step. I practically run upstairs, and he follows behind me. The door to
Apartment 306 is there, and I hesitate before putting the key into the lock. I
turn and look at him watching me.
    “Ian, thank you for making my birthday a memorable one. I
don’t think I’ll forget this day, thanks to my inability to pay attention to
the road ahead of me.” I’m captivated by his sympathetic eyes. Admiration
threatens to drown my cautious heart. Immediately, I try to suppress the urge
to like him—really like him.
    “No, problem, Rachel. Frankly, I’m glad we ran into each
other.” He chuckles and