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my feelings. I was perfectly happy being by myself all of the time, and I never really had any interest in guys. Most of the guys, with whom I ever got close enough to have a conversation, were so predictable, so I had no interest in a boyfriend before. But all of a sudden my mind was constantly fixated on this one nineteen-year-old guy, who I had probably spoken to for a total of fifteen minutes. It was not normal.
    I cursed those brown eyes. I had never encountered anyone that made me feel like they were looking into my soul. I felt oddly exposed and vulnerable, but good at the same time. One afternoon, running my car into someone in a parking lot, had changed my thinking forever. It was a mental battle I was going to have to fight, and I knew it would only have two outcomes. The first one was that I would get over this in about a week, and the second was that I would dislike boys forever. I was leaning toward the second one until things took a drastic turn.
    About a week and a half later, I was working on my science homework one evening and took a break to check my email. I was shocked to see a new email from Weston. I paused for a good two minutes because I wasn’t sure what to expect. My stomach started to feel fluttery again, as I slowly clicked the mouse to open the email. It read:
     
Dear Sophie,
     
I am sorry you feel that way, but I’m not surprised. Please know that I tried to go about things legitimately, but you made it very difficult. As a result, I have taken the matter of fixing your car into my own hands. I cannot, in good conscience, have you drive around in a damaged vehicle. You deserve more.
     
Sincerely,
     
Wes
     
    I read it three times and still couldn’t figure it out. Fixing your car, matter into my own hands, good conscience, you deserve more. What in the world did that mean? The guessing game was getting old. I was so worked up; I needed to get out of the house. I slipped on some flip-flops and headed to my car in my T-shirt and shorts. It was about 7:00 p.m., so I called into my mom’s room to tell her I was going to the store. I just needed to get some air. I wanted to take the top off of my Jeep to increase the effect, but I was in too much of a hurry to deal with that.
    When I walked outside, I noticed my Jeep backed into my driveway. I didn’t remember leaving it like that. In fact, I was positive I hadn’t parked it that way. My eyes narrowed as I walked around the back end, and then I shook my head. My car was completely fixed. I ran my hand over where the busted light and dent had been as if it was going to bite me. I was not imagining it. My car was fixed, completely. No sign of damage whatsoever. This had gone too far.
    Dumbfounded, I walked back into the house and went straight upstairs. The email was still on my screen. I hit reply:
     
I want to talk. Meet me somewhere. Please.
     
Sophie
     
    I hit send and waited. I really didn’t expect a reply that night, but I waited anyway. I put on my favorite songs and lounged around my room periodically checking my inbox. By about 9:00, I had new mail. It was from Wes:
     
If you insist. Tomorrow, at the overlook. Noon?
     
    That wasn’t good enough. I needed some answers before then, so I replied back:
     
No, now is good. Overlook, ten minutes. I’m leaving now…
     
    I had no idea if he was going to go or not, but I was itching to get out of the house anyway. I needed a drive, and the overlook would be a good place to go anyway. It was a natural soother, located off of a windy road overlooking a river, hills, and city. In the daytime, you could stand there in awe of the beauty of the water and the mounds of green hillsides. At night, the hills were lit up by the town lights. It was a perfect place for me to go to clear my head whether he came or not.
    About halfway there, I realized that I had left the house in the same checkered shorts, T-shirt and flip-flops, and I was horrified thinking that he might actually show. That was