"Maya," I said looking down at her engine. "I'm going to ask you something and I don't want you to get offended."

"Uh, okay," she replied from the driver's seat. She sat with her leg propped onto the seat, and her head resting on her knee. She'd been watching me as I surveyed this mess. "What is it?"

"How are you not dead?"

The engine was held together with electrical tape and who knows what else. There seemed to be one large leak, that I couldn't pinpoint the source of. I feared that it would burst into flames as I looked at it.

She laughed. "Good fortune, I guess."

I would say so. "You can't drive this."

She hummed, "I hate to break it you but I have to drive it."

"And I hate to break it to you-you can't." I would not be held responsible for her car blowing up on the highway, and with the way this engine looks that's exactly what would happen if she continues to drive this thing.

"How do you expect me to get to work?" She asked. " Or the grocery store? Or anywhere else I need to go? I can't afford to buy another car, and I'm too young to rent."

I hadn't thought about that. "You can just borrow one of mine."

"What if I wreck it?"

I closed the hood, my heart filled with sorrow just looking at the thing.

"I have insurance." I stood next to the open driver's side door. "Come on, I'll take you to pick one."

"Nick, I'm not comfortable with this," she said unsure. "I can't just borrow a car."

"Would you be more comfortable in the hospital or a morgue?" I asked. "Because that's where you'll be if you continue driving this car."

She frowned, "No."

"That's what I thought." I unlocked my car that was parked next to her death trap. "Come on, get in," I said holding open the car door for her. She was hesitant at first but once she saw that I wasn't backing down she got in murmuring something about me taking unnecessary precautions. I chuckled under my breath as I walked to my side of the car.

This meeting had started off interesting to say the least. Beginning with me banging on the door for five minutes only for it to be answered by a sleepy, pants less, Maya. It had been hard for me not to stare at her bare shapely legs. Her underwear was covered by the end of her too big t-shirt. After realizing that she was half-naked she slammed the door in my face. It was only then that I was able to get my bearings about myself.

It wasn't long before she opened the door again this time in shorts that still didn't hide much. We'd agreed to pretend that never happened, but I doubt that I will ever forget it.

She invited me in and I began to tell her about the things I planned on doing to her car. And despite that she was staring at my face so closely, I don't think she was listening.

Once we were both in the car, I noticed her looking around.

"Is there something wrong?"

"No," she replied. "I've just never been in such a fancy car before."

"Oh." This is just so normal for me that sometimes I forget that not everyone has the luxury of riding in a Porsche everyday if they want to. "Well, if you like this one you can borrow it."

She looked over at me her brows furrowed. "I'm not driving your Porsche. I'd look like a drug dealer."

I rolled my eyes, that's a bit dramatic. "Do I look like a drug dealer?"

I pulled onto the road, it wouldn't take us long to get to my house. From the corner of my eye, I saw her looking at me intently thinking about my question.

"Well, yeah," she answered. "But the suburban kind who sell to frat boys and sorority girls."

I opened and closed my mouth wordlessly. I didn't know what to say, because she wasn't wrong. I knew several "suburban" drug dealers and they did dress like me.

"I'm sorry did I offend you?"

I shook my head. "No, just shocked me is all."

"You're not a drug dealer, are you?"

And to that I had to laugh. "No, absolutely not."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive," I chuckled. "What are you a cop?"

She smirked. "Maybe."

"Well, officer," I said jokingly. "You have nothing to arrest me for, because I can guarantee you I am not a drug dealer. You can search me if you like." But not my house because I cannot be a hundred percent sure of what she would find.

"I'll take your word for it," she said. "But I'll be watching."

Maya looked out the windows as I pulled into my neighborhood. "I feel like the houses get bigger every time I come here."

"Some of them do," I said. "You know keeping up with the Jones' and all that."

"Everyone's last name must be Jones around here," she muttered.

I pulled into my driveway and around back to my garage.

"Nick, are you sure I can't drive my car?" She asked as I parked my car. "This all seems kind of ridiculous, I've been driving it and I haven't died yet."

Unbuckling my seat belt, I said. "I would tell you how bad of an argument you're making but I think you know it already. And yes, I'm sure." Sure, she could drive it and maybe she would be okay. But why risk it?

"I don't think you're being unreasonable," she said.

Me? I'm being unreasonable? I'm trying to save her from dying a fiery vehicular death, and I'm being unreasonable.

I turned to look at her in my passenger seat. Her dark brown eyes met mine. "Maya, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. You can take one of my cars and drive it while I fix your deathly vehicle or I could take the engine out of your car forcing you to still need a car. I don't want to do that, but I will, the choice is yours."

She glared at me, and I feared that she would hit me. But I wasn't backing down. I couldn't let her drive that thing, I wouldn't do it.

"I thought I was doing you a favor?"

"Looks like we're both benefiting from this," I smiled at her. "So how do you want to do this?"

She sighed. "I think you're overreacting, but I can't walk everywhere so I guess we'll do this the easy way."

I smiled at her. "Good." In the visor above my seat the Orange corner of the envelope housing her graduation card stuck out a little.

"Wait," I said stopping her from opening the passenger side door.

She stopped, leaning back in the seat. "Are you going to lecture me about car safety?"

"Not today, maybe another time," I responded. I pulled the card from the visor. "I got you something."

"This better not have money in it." Was her initial response.

"Don't worry it doesn't," I assured her. "Would it make you feel better if I told you the price?"

Turning the envelope in her hands, she said, "Depends on how much it cost."

"It was a dollar." I've never met a girl with such an aversion to presents. Most of the girls I knew would have thought the card was too little and she thinks it's too much.

"Okay, That does make me feel better."

"What's your with your aversion to presents?" I asked genuinely curious. "Do you not like them or something?"

"It's not that I don't like them," she explained. "I appreciate the sentiment, but usually when someone gets you something eventually they're going to expect something back in return. And I don't like owing people things."

"Well, I don't expect anything back in return," I assured her.

"There goes my plan to get you a card for your birthday," she said sarcastically. "Since you've already gotten this for me I might as well open it."

Gently she ripped open the seal, and took out the card. She smiled softly as she looked at the picture of the cat on the front. She opened it and read the message I'd written inside. I'd spent an embarrassingly long time figuring out what to write. I had to stop myself from writing, "Date Me," and giving it to her, so I took the safe route and wrote "good job," instead.

"Thank you, Nick, it's nice," she said.

"You're welcome," I responded. "I didn't know if you liked cats or not."

"I do like them," she admitted. "They kind of just do their own thing, and I like that." Noted, she likes cats.

I hit the clicker that sat in the center console making the garage door roll up and reveal my extensive car collection. I heard her breath hitch next to me. She was going to hate this, but I would hate seeing her get hurt.

"Come on, let's go get you a new car." I chanced getting hit by nudging her arm playfully. But the only thing it got me was an annoyed sidelong glance before she got out of the car.

Oh, well, she'll get over it.