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Liam drives us silently for a minute. “I’m sorry for talking to you like that. Lukas is my brother. I don’t talk to him too often, and I’d much rather spend time with you, to be honest.” Liam stops the cart and looks at me with an unfamiliar expression, almost as if in pain.

Something about his sad eyes makes me drop the topic of his brother. “You’re forgiven if you tell me five facts about yourself that I can’t google.” I tap the wheel for him to keep going.

Liam lets out a relieved sigh. “If I find these online later, I know who to blame. I’m currently rereading It by Stephen King for the second time. Don’t ask me why, I just want to. I like to sleep naked. And yes, before your jaw drops, I mean completely naked. The one older woman I helped cross the street berated me about feminism and how men think women always need help. Fourth, I walked in on my parents having sex once, and I’m surprised I can still appreciate doggy-style after seeing them. And lastly, I still play Pokémon Go even though probably only two other people in the world play it.”

I don’t know why the last fact has me throwing my head back and laughing to the point of my lungs burning, but it does.

Liam looks at me as if he’s seen an alien.

“What?” I attempt to regain air to my lungs.

He shakes his head. “Nothing. Let’s finish up this list.”

I’m actually having a good time with Liam. No sex, no complications. Just time spent getting to know one another.

Can Liam have a few flaws, please? Anything besides his part-time job of screwing women.

We take a break to grab a water back in Bandini’s garage.

“Okay, I have to say this. I’m a little disappointed at how oddly normal you are,” I blurt out.

“I won’t lie to you. That’s possibly the best compliment I’ve heard in a while.”

I let out a laugh. “That’s kind of sad. But really, no offense, but your reputation sucks. I was a bit afraid to be your friend.”

“Your level of honesty is refreshing. Please boost my ego a little more while you’re at it.”

“Well, you’re nothing like the guy I expected based on what everyone says about you.” Being around him makes me question what I’ve read and the truths I’ve put stock in because he comes off sweet and interested. I regret jumping to conclusions about him because he acts like a model citizen, paying his taxes on time and walking grandmas across the road.

“For once, I really don’t want to know what people say about me.” He runs an agitated hand through his hair.

“I don’t blame you. But at least I’m willing to stay friends despite everything.”

“Wow. Thank you for your service.” He gives me a half-assed salute.

We finish up our break. Time flies while we hang out, and with one more item to complete, I text Maya to check in on Santi’s progress. She says he still needs to steal a golf cart.

“Last one. We need to sneak a picture with the checkered flag on the Prix finish line.” I read off Maya’s hardest item.

“Let’s grab a flag and hit the line. But we have to be quiet and not draw attention to ourselves because I can get in trouble. F1 tends to be protective of their course before a race day.” He smirks at me.

“I can be quiet, no need to tell me twice.”

We make our way toward the Grandstand overlooking the finish line. It turns out a ton of security officers and F1 personnel hang around the grid area overseeing the finish line.

I push all my blonde hair under the Bandini cap and pull it low on my face. “Do I look like a guy? Maybe a scrawny pit crew member by chance?”

“Is the sky green? What type of question is that? Last time I checked, guys don’t wear scraps of material like yours for shorts, let alone a shirt like that.” He lets out an exasperated sigh as his eyes trail down my body.

My head lowers to check out my T-shirt, laughing at the I like big boats and I cannot lie saying. I bought it specifically for Monaco. His glance makes my heart beat faster, unable to contain my excitement about him checking me out.

Friends, Sophie. Friends.

I don’t miss the way his eyes close after they land on mine. But I pretend I did, saving us the trouble and awkwardness. “Well. Can’t change anything now. Bitches get stitches.”

“You do understand this isn’t where you apply that saying, right?” He rubs a hand across his face.

“Duh. But where’s the fun in that? We’re already rebelling.” I step toward the stand housing the different colored flags.


Tags: Lauren Asher Dirty Air Romance