The first sound I heard upon waking was crunch!

“Ow!!!”

Blood pooled under my foot. The last thought before fainting at the sight of my blood was I must’ve left a glass next to my bed.

Fifteen stitches later and medicated, I made the stupid decision to drive two hours to see a girl I really liked. The numbness wore off about halfway. As I struggled to accelerate and brake with my left foot, using cruise control whenever possible, I formulated my defense plan.

Rejection was not a possibility. I could not let her get the upper hand.

If she brought up another guy, I would nip it in the bud. I was sick of being the guy she cozied up to after things went wrong with someone else. I wanted to be the guy she kissed.

If necessary, I would do the unthinkable. I would blurt out something like, “I really like you! I drove 150 miles on a broken foot to see you! I’m on crutches! What’s more romantic than that?”

The question I pondered was will she respond positively or will she feel like she’s lost her rock?