Last night, I spilled my truth to her, gave her every component of myself. I told her about my father acquiring the family business after my grandfather’s passing and how he’d started committing crimes. It was petty shit at first, but the more he got away with, the more he pushed his limits. Why? I’m still clueless. We had plenty of money, never needed for anything, but for some reason, my dad wanted more. I confessed all the feelings that’d rushed through my body when the feds showed up at my front door and how I’d wanted to jump out of the bathroom window the day I was sentenced to time in a federal penitentiary.

That night, on the drive to Cassidy’s, my nerves had been on fire, uncertain of how she’d feel about my admission, about my dark past. She wasn’t jumping for joy, but she handled it better than how most people would. She heard me out, was calm and rational, and in the end, she told me to make myself comfortable in her bed.

We didn’t have sex, didn’t hook up.

We lay in bed, talking about our pasts before falling asleep in each other’s arms.

That night, as I lay in her bed, it cemented that I’d done the right thing.

That I was falling for and opening up to the only person who understood me like I needed to be understood. I’m not sure what it is about her, but the scorned parts of our hearts seem to be fitting together perfectly like a puzzle.

A horn blares through the parking lot from her car, causing me to jump out of mine, and I rush over to her. Reaching her car, I find her sitting in the driver’s seat with her forehead pressed against the steering wheel. I knock on the window, and she slowly lifts her head as I gawk at her.

Opening the door, I drape my arm along the top of it and lean in toward her. “You honked?”

She smacks her palm against the steering wheel. “My car won’t start.”

I gesture for her to get out and take her spot. I tinker with the car, trying all the ideas I can come up with to get it to start, but nothing. It doesn’t help that she’s moving from foot to foot, shivering, while watching me try to fix something I know nothing about.

I’m a numbers guy who doesn’t know much about auto shit. A reminder to brush up on those skills because it doesn’t impress the girl you’re falling for if you don’t know shit about how to fix her car.