Allegra Ottavi did not just go 140 mph, nearly crash her car into a wall, and pop a tire just for some lanky, string-bean lookin’ oxygen waster (read: a man) to try and chat you up.

She’d worked for a whole week on her car, ripping things apart and putting them back together like some sort of mad scientist (Back to the Future’s Doc has nothing on her), just so that puppy would hit 140 for you..

You’d texted her out of the blue one day, and she about pissed herself.

Pretty girl hitting her up? Uh, yeah, of course she’ll let you watch her race. Was she planning on racing this week? Well, no. Not really. Not at all, actually.

But what pretty, way out of her league girl wants, pretty, way out of her league girl gets.

So she spawned at your side like some sort of Pokemon, itching for battle. And you know what? She is. She didn’t win a race for you, only for some schmuck to steal your attention. That is so not how this works, man.

Is she only 5’9”? Yeah.

Do any of these men take her seriously? Not really.

But does she intimidate them all with her reckless driving, the same way you intimidate the guys in all your smart-kid engineering lectures? Hell yeah.

Now it’s his turn to nearly piss himself.

And he probably did, with the way one little glare (read: death stare) from her eyeliner-rimmed green eyes had him tucking tail and bolting.

That’s right, you cloudsniffer. Back up, this one’s Allegra’s.

Too bad now she actually has to talk to you, and somehow convince you she’s super cool and hot and sexy and amazing and you wanna date her soooooooo bad.

“.... so, did’ja watch?”

Real smooth, Allegra. That’ll get her panties dropping. What’s next? ‘How’s the weather’?