He and I were oil and water from the beginning. We had moments of peace before another storm would break out between us. In fact, our entire relationship was what I would call a series of hurricanes with periods of calm waters that never lasted for very long. I can't say I don't miss him, because I do, I miss him more than I care to admit. It's a difficult situation, we love each other, we do, but it's a violent sort of love. We love so intensely that it has become too much for us to contain. We have the sort of relationship that dictates that we cannot be together; it has the capability to kill us if we let it.

We started on a bad note and the song that was our relationship was just full of those bad notes. Here's a bit of truth for you. Neither of us was ready for what we found with each other. We just couldn't handle it. I think maybe in a few years, V and I could try again, but for now it's just better if we just stay at our opposite ends of the state. I'll stick to my horses and he can stick to his cars, I'll call him in a few weeks and we'll talk, we'll fight, and we won't talk for another few weeks before one of us decides it's time to call again, even if just to hear the annoyed voice on the other end. We're a catalyst for disaster.

We met at an awkward time for me. I was in a transition from northern California to the warmer sun drenched climate that is the L.A. area. Between trying to find my new job and trying to find an apartment I would be able to afford, the last thing I needed was my truck deciding to have issues in the middle of a city I knew next to nothing about. I thought that breaking down near a garage would be a god send. It turned out to be the best and worst moment of my life.

That garage was where we met. That was also were a lot of time was spent when we weren't at the house or downtown. It was a place full of good and bad memories for us both. The day my truck broke down was not one of my proudest moments. I hadn't slept in 2 days; I hadn't showered, eaten, or had any coffee. I was tired, pissed off and the last thing I wanted to do was deal with some asshole mechanic. Unfortunately that is just what I got. I will admit, my humongous attitude may have had a bit to do with our bad first impression, but his shitty mood didn't help anything either. I was tired and pissy and he had a hangover that was apparently the size of Texas, so he was a real peach when we first met.

"Hello?"

"What?"

His tone rubbed on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

"No need to be rude, I just need some help."

"Not sure attitude deserves help."

"Really dude? I just need someone to take a look at my truck to tell me if it's worth fixing or not."

He huffed at me but followed me none the less. I'm not going to lie, he felt like a bomb waiting to explode as he followed me to the truck.

"So what's wrong with it?"

"If I knew what was wrong with it I wouldn't be asking you to look at it would I?"

If he was aggravated before, now he was pissed off.

"Do you want me to fix the fuckin thing or do you want me to leave you stranded on the side of the road princess?"

I do not appreciate being called princess, not one little bit, my mom used to call me that. I hate my mom.

"Listen here asshole I just needed some help there is absolutely no reason for you to be such a dick."

"Obviously there is because you've been a real peach since you walked into my shop."

"Oh and you've just been the best freakin' guy ever haven't you?"

Little did we both know that his friends had come back from their lunch run and were watching us argue in the middle of the road.

"Hey V, is everything okay?"

He turned around with what I assumed was his best attempt at a snarl. Maybe he wasn't really trying, or maybe he was just too pissed off to really try.

"You deal with her, she's impossible."

I glared at his back as he stalked off back into the shop. His big friend came over with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry about him, he's got a nasty hangover. Not that he's much better when he's not hung-over."

"Listen can you guys just take a look at my truck? I have no idea what's wrong with it, it just died and I have to go look at an apartment today."

The boys helped me get it in to the garage. Dom, the big one offered to have one of the others drive me to my appointment so they could work on my truck. The kid's

name was Jesse, he was twitchy but he was sweet. He showed me to his white Jetta and we headed to my appointment.