Page 22 of Hot Girl Summer

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. All I’m saying is there’s a certain type of person who drives an Audi.”

He feigns a shocked expression.

Approaching the passenger side, I open the door and pick up a woven belt from the quilted honeycomb seat before sliding in. The scent of new car chemicals and leather fill my nostrils as he climbs into the driver’s side and slides a pair of aviator sunglasses onto his face.

“You can just toss that in the back,” he says, referring to the length of material in my hand. I assume it must belong to a dog.

I throw it on the seat behind me and send a quick text to Stefan to let him know where I am, and tell him not to worry. We fasten our seatbelts, the engine roars to life, and we drive out of the compound.

Once we’re on the road, I give him the address to my parents’ house. Sinking into the stitched leather seat, my tummy rumbles, and I’m grateful for my parents’ weekly invitations to Sunday lunch. That, and their impressively wide snack selection. Today will also be the first time I’ll see my sister since she left rehab.

Memories of the past year resurface, and my stomach flips thinking about the last time I saw Kiki in her own environment.

“E.S.T.P,” he says, catching me off guard.

I’m not sure if I hear him right, but if I did, I haven’t a clue what he’s talking about.

“What’s that?”

“My personality type. It means; extroverted, sensing, thinking, perceiving.”

“I mean, I was going to say asshole. But okay, Maverick,” I say, teasing his choice of eyewear.

“May also be wrongly perceived as cocky, smartass narcissists,” he says, treating me to an eyeful of those dimples.

“So, what’s mine?”

“I’m still trying to figure you out.”

My eyes meet my reflection, but even through those mirrored shades, I can feel the intensity of his gaze. It’s only for a moment—and probably a little longer than deemed safe—but it’s enough to feel the heat rise through my body and spread across my cheeks. After a beat, he turns his attention back to the road. “So why do you hate Audi drivers so much?”

“I’ve been knocked off my bike...three times,” I say. He glances towards me with raised eyebrows. “Two of the cars responsible were Audis.”

“You have every right to be mad at us then,” he says.

“Anyway, I don’thatethe people who drive them. But they all seem to have a certain...attitude. A superiority complex. Plus, they’re not exactly the car that springs to mind when I think “climate-friendly.””

“Oh, you’re one of those eco warriors. Now it makes sense.”

“So what? I care about the planet, as everybody should. I was always taught to leave things how I found them. The same applies to all aspects of life.” I find myself getting heated. I might not go around hugging trees, but that doesn’t mean I’m in favour of cutting them down. Quite the opposite in fact.

“Is that why you work at Ivy Rose? Their ethos is really impressive.”

“It is. I would never want to work for some big shot CEO who thinks it’s okay to test on animals and use unsustainable materials. I try to do my bit for humanity. The pay could be better, but—”

“You stay true to yourself. I like that.”

His smile quickens my pulse. Am I staying true to myself? It was only last night that I made a vow not to sleep around, and now I’m in some guy’s car, secretly hoping for something to happen. I’m the world’s biggest fraud.

“What else?” he asks, fishing for more information while I adjust the volume dial to an even number.

“I have a thing about odd numbers,” I say, ironically.

“They turn you on?”

“They freak me out. If the dial isn’t even, I get it in my head that something bad will happen.”

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