Throttled (Dirty Air 1)

“Just fun?” I mumble under my breath, the date not screaming casual to me.

“Relax. Don’t make a big deal out of it.” He grabs my hand and pulls me toward the colorful blanket.

I settle into one of the cushions on the sand. A picnic basket is open off to the side, along with a bucket with chilled wine. The sound of waves crashing against the shore makes the perfect soundtrack.

A wave of uneasiness threatens to take away my happiness. Noah’s lips say casual, but his actions speak differently. People propose in less cute ways. I take a deep breath of the salty ocean air to calm me down, hoping a few inhales can cure my insecurity about Noah’s intentions.

“How did you plan all of this?”

“I had a little help.” He shoots me a rare shy smile.

“Right. Busy life of an F1 driver.” It impresses me how he made an effort to make sure something nice was planned.

“We can pretend for a night that none of that exists. No talk of your brother and no bringing up Baku. You’re a girl and I’m a guy on a normal date.” He flashes me his usual mischievous smile.

Did I say he looks like trouble already? Still waiting on the warning label.

I agree to his terms. We eat together, talking about anything and everything. He tells me about his favorite TV shows and the best cities in America. I say how I’ve never been there, and he insists I need to go at least once, offering to show me around and take me to the best food places. I tell him about my failed attempts at graduating on time, being held back a year after I figured out I wasn’t meant to be a Spanish Elle Woods attending Harvard.

“Let’s play a game.” Noah hits me with a mischievous grin.

“Seriously?”

“Dead serious. Ever heard of two truths and a lie?”

I roll my eyes with minimal effort. “What are you, eighteen and attending your first college party?”

Noah lets out a rough laugh. “I never went to college. Entertain me?”

I nod because I’d do just about anything with him smiling at me the way he does.

“Whoever loses has to chug straight from the wine bottle for five seconds.” His smile reaches his blue eyes as the candlelight flickers across his skin.

“Okay, since this is your bright idea to get me tipsy, you can go first.”

He chuckles to himself. “I’m an only child. I spend thirty minutes a day watching the news. And I lost my virginity in the back of a pickup truck.”

I cough at his last statement, aware of how this game will go after one round.

“Pickup truck is a lie. You look like a thousand-thread-count kind of guy.”

His eyes light up. “Nope. You got it wrong. I hate the news, so I stay away from that shit.”

Well, damn. Guess Noah is an American boy after all, getting down and dirty in the bed of a truck. I grab the wine bottle and take a chug, holding up a finger for each second that ticks by.

“Your turn.” He winks at me.

“My brother announced his Bandini contract on the same day as my graduation. I’ve gotten into five fender benders. I crashed my brother’s first date.”

“Five fender benders? That’s excessive for someone young.”

I shake my head and point to the bottle sitting next to us. “Nope. I never crashed my brother’s first date even though my parents wanted me to. Santi paid me fifty euros to watch a different movie. He got his hookup while I got a new pair of shoes.”

“One, how do you still have a license? And two, your brother told everyone about his Bandini deal on your special day? How fucked up,” Noah says before taking a chug from the bottle I drank from, his lips wrapped around the same spot mine touched.

I shrug. “I can still drive because the officer felt bad when I cried, begging me to stop. And Santi couldn’t help the bad timing.”

“Sometimes he can be a real dumbass. He could have waited a day at least.”