This is based on a true story. Names and events have been changed to protect those involved.

It happened when I was 18.

It had been a year since Laurie and I had broken up, yet I still carried a torch for her. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. The last time I saw her, about six months prior, she was coming on pretty strong to the point where she was straddling me wearing nothing but khaki shorts and a black lace bra. Of course, she was too devoted to her current flame and I was too much of a gentleman, so we didn’t take it any further. (Before you say anything, I didn’t hesitate to kick myself repeatedly for my inaction. To this day, I still regret it.)

I transferred to a new school on the other side of town shortly after that, so we didn’t see each other for a while. Finally, after months of scrimping and saving, that magical day that every teenager waits for finally came. I bought my first car. Naturally, I was thrilled. The car was a real jewel and practically a steal at two grand. The previous owner got the car from his wife in the divorce, and was only too pleased to sell it cheap. I performed the usual rituals involved in this rite of passage: Cruising the local hangout, going through the drive-thru at Hardee’s with my brothers (the guy at the window was a classmate of ours and loved seeing my younger brother in the back, or as we called it, the “bitch seat”. I still laugh at this.), and cruising for chicks.

Of course, I wasn’t looking for just any chick. Granted, my nice ride was the envy of most of my classmates and could have guaranteed a little backseat romp with my pick of girls including, but not limited to, half the cheerleading squad. Still, only one girl would do. Or so I thought.

About a week after I bought the car, I was ready to make my move. The plan was simple: Go to Laurie’s and surprise her with the new wheels. Then, offer to take her for a spin around town while reminiscing about the good old days. Finish off down by the lakeshore with a picnic dinner while watching the sunset. By nightfall, she would be back in my arms (and if I was lucky, my backseat).

You know what they say, though, about the best laid plans of mice and men. I got to her house and when the door opened, I was greeted instead by Laurie’s mom and 17 year-old sister, Mandy.