Sunsets and Car Washes

I met Blake Harrison at the most unlikely of places to ever meet someone: a car wash.

I remembered going up there only to have this dashing college give me a dimply smile and asking if I wanted to have my car waxed. Up to this day I can’t remember what I said exactly but whatever it is made him throw his head back and laugh, his blue eyes twinkling with laughter. After that he sent me off and ordered for a full service. I said thanks and drove my car to have his full washing service.

I didn’t see him again, at least not until I was out partying with a couple of friends. I was at the bar ordering some drinks when he appeared out of nowhere and smiled. I remembered him because of the dimples.

“Well isn’t it wax girl,” he said as a greeting.

“Um, hello to you too car wash boy.”

His grinned. “Blake Harrison.”

“Williams. Liv Williams,” I said cornily.

It worked because he laughed again. “So Liv,” he began and I thought he was about to ask for my number or something, “I want to ask for a favor.”

“Yeah?” I asked him, cocking my head to the side.

“Would you break up with me and act like a real bitch? Please?” he asked, running a hand through his tousled brown hair.

I sighed. Oh, well he was certainly jumping ahead in this relationship. “Sure,” I shrugged, giving in.

“Thanks Liv, you’re the best. I will have to pay you off somehow. I know how! Lots of free wax for your car, sound likes a deal, huh?”

 I nodded and proceeded to break up with Blake Harrison before our relationship ever started, it was quite public and all and of course I made him seem like the victim with my dramatic storm off and everything. After that, I thought I would never see him again.

*

I saw Blake one month after that at the library. He seemed to be concentrating really hard on a text book. I didn’t know what was it with me but whenever my eyes found him I couldn’t help but to stare, maybe it was the way he was so light and charismatic that he just drew light to himself.

I sat in front of him and stared until he finally looked up.

“Oh hey. Liv, right?”

I nodded. “Hello Blake.”

“You know anything about Journalism in Latin America?” he asked me, running a hand through his hair.

“Bunch of bloody news?” I suggested. “Communications?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “You?”

“Education. How about this,” I started, “you and I can go and grab some coffee to get your mind off things and then we’ll both research about journalism in Latin America.”

He nodded and snapped the book shut. “For an ex you’re pretty cool.”

I laughed.

We went to get our coffee and talked about everything and nothing. We talked about our majors, friends, jobs and even some family there. I learned that Blake and the girl he managed to sweep off her feet the night we ‘broke up’ were now going out regularly—he thanked me for that—he was working on the car wash thing to earn money for his fun and that his family lived in New Mexico where he had been born and raised. I guess you could say Blake Harrison and I became friends that day.

*

That friendship flourished over the course of the years. We did all sort of stuff together, chick flicks, action films, coffee, sleepovers, tickle fights, late night conversations, one or two more fake break ups over the course of the years. He consoled me when a guy dumped me and sometimes I found myself consoling the girls he dumped.