He was never good around girls. They made him uneasy and he couldn't speak in proper sentences.

But she was different.

She helped him with trig, he fixed her car. It all worked out nicely. That is, until those pesky feelings got in the way.

Slowly he found himself changing, the anger he once carried with him was barely even noticeable anymore. Her tinkling laughter filled his head rather than the shouts of his angry father. He thought about how her old car was definitely going to break down one day and silently hoped she'd call him when it did.

Her love for her car was a comfort, showing that even if it was old and deemed unfixable that she still loved it. He wondered if she thought about people in the same way. Would she still smile at him like that if she knew how broken, how unfixable, he really was? He didn't know.

But somehow in the few weeks they'd been hanging out, he'd learned the way she rose a brow when she was curious, the light that never left her eyes, and the small smile she gave when he would get an answer right.

Somehow, she weaved her way into his life and he wasn't so sure he wanted her anywhere else.