What the hell," I said, pushing off the wall, ready to take off the head of whatever stupid salesperson had decided to get cozy with me. My elbow was still buzzing, and I could feel a hot flush creeping up my neck: bad signs. I knew my temper.<br />I turned my head and saw it wasn't a salesman at all. It was a guy with black curly hair, around my age, wearing a bright orange T-shirt. And for some reason he was smiling.<br />"Hey there," he said cheerfully. "How's it going?"<br />"What is your problem?" I snapped, rubbing my elbow.<br />"Problem?" <br />"You just slammed me into the wall, asshole."<br />He blinked. "Goodness," he said finally. "Such language."<br />I just looked at him. Wrong day, buddy, I thought. You caught me on the wrong day.<br />"The thing is," he said, as if we'd been discussing the weather or world politics, "I saw you out in the showroom. I was over by the tire display?"<br />I was sure I was glaring at him. But he kept talking.<br />"I just thought to myself, all of a sudden, that we had something in common. A natural chemistry, if you will. And I had a feeling that something big was going to happen. To both of us. That we were, in fact, meant to be together."<br />"You got all this," I said, clarifying, "at the tire display?"<br />"You didn't feel it?" he asked.<br />"No. I did, however, feel you slamming me into the wall," I said evenly.<br />"That," he said, lowering his voice and leaning closer to me, "was an accident. An oversight. Just an unfortunate result of the enthusiasm I felt knowing I was about to talk to you.