My legs were crossed underneath me, Indian-style, in the passenger seat of Lola’s beat-up—what was it again? I could never recall the name of her car. I simply knew it was hers by the identifying dents that patterned its red exterior.

“Light, please.” Lola turned her head in my direction, a cigarette dangling from her lips. She was somehow able to keep both hands on the steering wheel and eyes on the road as she did so. It was a feat I never could have managed, which was why I left the driving to her.

Obediently, I picked up the lighter, and in the way she had once shown me, flicked my thumb over the red switch. The flame that resulted I brought to the tip of her cigarette.

“Thanks.” She inhaled with a heavy sigh of satisfaction and cranked her window down a crack, leaving a space where she could knock the ashes from the cigarette out onto the road when necessary.

There was a long silence between us, punctuated only by the quick bits of music from the speakers as Lola switched, lightning fast, through the radio stations. Whatever she settled on, I wasn’t paying much to it. My forehead was lightly pressed against the window, watching the stretches of desert pass us by as Lola sped on. I crossed my fingers there were no cops up ahead to pull us over.

“I need to stop doing this,” she exhaled finally, breaking the quiet, and allowing a trail of smoke to exit her mouth.

“Stop doing what? Smoking?” My breath left a small blot of fog on the window.

She threw me a dirty look. “Shut up. I don’t even know. This. Whatever it is I keep doing.” She gestured emphatically with the same hand that was holding the cigarette between her index and middle fingers. The other hand remained on the steering wheel, keeping the car steady and stopping it from receiving any more dents.

“Random road trips then?” I suggested.

“No. Well, yes, but that’s only a part of it, I think. Maybe.” She took a long drag from the cigarette, seeming to mull it over in her head. “I need to stop getting my hopes up, or something.”

“About what?”

“I haven’t figured it out yet. I’m thinking.” Drumming her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, Lola urged her thoughts to move faster.

“Is that why you’re taking us on this road trip?”

“That sounds about right. The driving-slash-getting-away-from-everything is therapeutic for me.”

“Okay. Where are we going?”

“Nowhere. Everywhere. I’m not sure yet. Just lemme know when we need to stop for a bathroom break or something, okay?”

I nodded.

“Thanks for coming with me on this stupid drive.”

“What else are friends for?”

She pretended to ponder my question seriously before she replied, “Lighting cigarettes? Speaking of which….”

This time, I lit the cigarette and put it in her mouth myself.

“Shananks,” she said, her speech disabled by the cigarette.

Suddenly, there was a tinny doorbell ring, and I jumped slightly as Lola’s phone vibrated in the pocket of my oldest, favorite blue jeans. “Your texting ringtone is annoying,” I stated, while nevertheless flipping the phone open and pressing the “okay” button to view it.

“Who is it from?” she asked, casual disinterest clouding her voice.

“Him.” I gave her a knowing look. “’Where are you? I thought we were supposed to study together this afternoon,’” I quoted.

“Don’t reply.”

“Is that was this is about?”

“Yes. No. Part of it. Well okay, most of it.”

As she finished her second cigarette, I lit her a new one and handed it to her. “Talk to me.”

“I shouldn’t have to. You know how I am.”

“Yes, I do,” I sighed. “You know, this is what you get for not caring for such a long time.”

“I know. I need to get out more. Date around instead of clinging so much to my single status.”

“Yeah. It would stop disasters like this. When you—“

“I know, I know. Fall too hard and too fast. You’ve told me that before.”

“You’re too extreme in your emotions.”

“It’s turned me into a wreck this time. I can’t live with it. Cigarette?”

“Wait until you’ve finished that one,” I admonished. “You’re too self-destructive right now. You shouldn’t smoke so much.”

“I shouldn’t smoke at all, but who are we kidding?”

“Am I allowed to blame him for you being such a mess at the moment?”

“No. It’s not his fault. You know it’s all me.” Lola threw her half-done cigarette out of the window and lit a new one before I had the chance. “Here’s how I see it. I’m Icarus, and I’ve got my nice wings, but then I get way too close to the sun and my wings melt and I fall. And drown.”

“You stole that concept from a Regina Spektor song,” I accused her.

“Did not,” she lied.

I ignored her. “Stop trying to be so deep. It doesn’t suit you.”

“I want chipper-me back too, if that’s any consolation for you.” She shrugged helplessly.

“It kind of is. At least you don’t take pride in your moping. But listen,” I began, for the first time ready to offer real advice. “You’ll get over him. You always do. Just don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“He’s different from the rest though,” she insisted, albeit halfheartedly. I could hear the doubt behind her words. “Besides, how do you know I don’t have a chance with him?” She tossed her head back defiantly.

“I know you, Lola, better than anybody else on the face of this stupid planet. If you even thought you had a chance with him, we wouldn’t be in this car right now. You’d be at his house studying, turning on all that charm I know you’re capable of.”

Abruptly, and fast enough that the tires squealed, Lola turned into one of those illegal U-turn spots on the freeway, and was onto the other side in a matter of seconds. She looked around hastily as she sped forward. “No cops saw that, did they?”

“No….At least I don’t hear any sirens. Are you gonna go for it then?” I asked.

“I don’t think so. I’m just in the mood for a movie and some food after all this philosophical talk.”

I caught the false note of carelessness in her tone of voice, but remained silent on it. Instead, I said, “What exactly was philosophical about any of that conversation?”

“Eh, I don’t know. Nothing?”

“Honestly, I don’t really know either.”