My name is Mark Nelson. When I was in high school, I was a short fat pasty-faced blob. I was 5'7" tall and weighed 200 pounds. I wasn't good at sports and I wasn't an exceptional student. As a result, I rarely had any dates, and when I did, the girls usually looked something like a female version of me.
There were a lot of hot girls in my class that my friends and I lusted after, but we were realistic enough to know that they would never give us a second look. We all starred at the cheerleaders during pep rallies because they wore those skimpy little skirts. "Ah shit," my friend Tony said. "That Marcy has the best legs and biggest tits on the whole cheerleading squad."
Tony was almost right. Marcy was hot, but Michelle was just a little hotter. Michelle had always reminded me of an African princess. She was about 5'8" and her body was absolutely perfect. And she knew it. We were in a couple of classes together and she never acknowledged my existence, even when we were next to each other and I said hello to her. But I knew that Tony and my other friends preferred the white cheerleaders, as if any of us had a remote chance with any of them.
Michelle rarely attended any school dances because she didn't date anyone form our school. She showed up at our senior homecoming because she was elected the queen, but her date looked like he just stepped off the pages of Ebony or GQ magazines. However many times I tried to talk to Michelle, she ignored me and just turned her head away.
Towards the end of the school year, we were walking down the concrete steps in the school when someone bumped Michelle and sent her tumbling down the steps. I happened to be a few steps below her when it happened so I turned and caught her before she fell the rest of the way down the steps. Unfortunately, since I was standing sideways when I caught her, one of my arms went across her chest and the other went across her back. As she regained her balance, I said, "Are you OK Mich . . "
"Get your hands off my chest you pervert!" she demanded.
I turned every color of red and immediately release her. She almost fell again, but managed to catch herself. "I'm s-sorry," I mumbled. "I-I just tried to st-stop you fr . . "
"Get lost," she said and continued down the steps. Her friends laughed at me as they walked past. I avoided her for the remainder of the year.
After we graduated, I lost track of Michelle. I think she went to college out of state, but I didn't care, because no matter how hot she was, she was still a bitch. I ended up in trade school and learned welding and electrical. After my apprenticeship, I worked for a small local company for a few years before the owner decided to retire. He offered the company to me and I jumped at being my own boss. I borrowed the money and the rest is history. Business is pretty good. So there I was, at the age of 30 with my own business, a fairly decent fixer upper house and a new pickup truck. And somehow I had managed to grow a few inches and lose a few pounds since graduation so I was just under 6' tall and about 185 pounds.
Since I had slimmed down and was no longer the short fat pasty-faced kid, I was actually less self conscious about asking women out. I never graduated to the hot cheerleader types, but I didn't do too badly either. Actually, most of the hot cheerleader types that graduated with me were now overweight soccer moms.
After work Friday, I stopped by Murphy's Pub for a beer and burger before going home. I stuck around for a few games of pool and then headed out around 9:00. As I was driving down the county road to my house, I noticed a sleek red Mustang convertible in front of me at the stop sign. As it started through the intersection, a big Lincoln blew through the four way stop and smashed the front fender of the Mustang flipping it over and into the guardrail. The Lincoln never slowed down; it just kept going.
I jumped out of my truck and ran to the wrecked Mustang and looked inside. The driver was unconscious. I smelled gas, so I used my knife to cut the seatbelt and drag the driver out of the car. As I lifted the person from behind to drag them away, I realized it was a woman in a fairly short skirt and a tank top. I dragged her back from her car and started to lay her on the ground near a small stone wall when she shook her head and scrambled to her feet. She spun around and fixed me with her eyes and said, "Don't you touch me!"
"Michelle?"
"Wha-what? Who are you? Don't touch me." She tried to kick out at me -- some crazy judo kick, and I just leg swept her and she fell to the ground with her skirt around her waist. I have to admit that she still had nice legs.
She got back up and took a swing at me. I knew I didn't want to stand there and dodge her punches all night so I stepped forward and bear hugged her. And just then her car blew up knocking both of us to the ground.
We both cleared the cobwebs from our heads and I helped her back to her feet. Damn, those legs looked good. I said, "Michelle, stop hitting me or I'll leave you here. Are you OK?"
"No I'm not OK, someone just wrecked my car and I'm stuck out here in the country with someone I don't even know. Who are you?"
"You wouldn't remember me Michelle. My name is Mark Nelson and I was in your chemistry class in high school."
Michelle seemed to recognize his name. She said, "Weren't you shorter in high school?"
He laughed. "Yep. I was short and fat."
She asked, "Well, how do you remember me? High school was a long time ago."
Mark smiled. "Michelle, I always thought that you were the hottest girl in school. Even though you never acknowledged my existence, I still had a schoolboy crush on you."
"I-I never knew that Mark. Why didn't you say something?"
He laughed. "Michelle, I always spoke to you, but you would just turn away. Once I caught you falling down the steps and you berated me for catching you incorrectly."
They both heard sirens and looked around to see the lights of approaching emergency vehicles. After answering all their questions and arranging for the remnants of Michelle's car to be removed, Mark asked, "Can I drop you somewhere?"
She got a puzzled look on her face and then it suddenly dawned on her that everything had just burned up in her car. She looked down and started to cry. "What's wrong," he asked.
"My purse, my driver's license, my money, my cell phone, my luggage and clothes were all in my car. What am I going to do?"
"Do your folks still live around here," he asked.
"No. They moved away a long time ago. Maybe I could call one of my old high school friends."
Mark smiled. "Why don't I give you a lift to my place and you can relax and call your friends. I can take you wherever you want to go."