Before that night, my life was on a fast-track to mediocrity. I don't really know how the whole adventure began, but I do know, though, that at 10:30 P.M. on January 3rd, 2011, I was in a truck on Highway 17 with a girl named Natalie. Considering my life, I would have to say this was a highly unusual situation.

My sixteen-year existence had essentially been completely planned out for me. I felt like I was sleep walking in someone else's dream. While my parents were not the overly controlling type, my life was solely devoted to living up to their predetermined expectations of me. I did what I was told, never really living on any extremes. Before that night, the biggest risk I ever took was changing my Facebook profile picture.

That night, the obscurity in the trees and darkness embraced her truck as we catapulted through the infinite highway. The rush and purity was like a vortex. Nobody knew what we were doing, or where we were going; except us. Somehow, that night, in the midst of my friend's humble birthday get-together, we found each other's company. And somehow, in the midst of our quiet conversation, we crafted a plan with one goal in mind: to go to the beach in the middle of the night.

So the radio blared her favorite alternative station and I couldn't really tell what I was feeling. I felt nervous. I was a little curious. I think I was uncomfortable, too. I guess my disposition presented some form of panic, because I remember her saying, "You need to take more risks, Matthieu. I mean, everyone loves a nice, simple boy, but is that all you want to be? Just...nice?" Her honesty was like a bucket of ice water in the face, except I actually needed someone to hurl that bucket towards me.

"No, no I don't." And I smiled a world-less thank you. "You know, you're really-" Unfortunately, my potential compliment was intercepted by a rattling on the dashboard. My phone's incessantly spastic ringtone and vibrations horrified me, Who the hell would be calling me now? I was not fit for interaction, but I instinctively reached over with evident hesitation. I fumbled and grasped my phone to read the caller ID. "Shit."

The screen read "MOM CALLING." My eyes darted from my phone to Natalie and back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. My palms trembled and broke a light sweat. OH MY GOD I AM GOING TO BE GROUNDED FOREVER AND NEVER DO ANYTHING OR SEE ANYONE EVER AGAIN AND DIE.

Annoyed and gripping the wheel with white knuckles, Natalie repeated "Hit ignore. Ignore. IGNORE."

"Erm...umm...welp," I mumbled. My breathe was heavy like dumbbells and I stared at the screen with ghost eyes. My fate would be decided by the placement of my thumb. Should I answer? What would I say? Should I ignore? I've never ignored her calls before. Why is this happening to me?! One deep inhale and five eye blinks later, I retracted my right thumb and inched it towards the "IGNORE" option. "Press it, you dunce!" Natalie fumed. A white, pixelated "CALL IGNORED" flashed into our darkness.

"Hey...Matthieu. We're here."

"We are, indeed."