Joël is happy to let Saoirse drive; there is a headache poking at the corners of his temples, a
Joël is happy to let Saoirse drive; there is a headache poking at the corners of his temples, and he just wants to enjoy the cold fresh air on his face and the F1 noises made by the car’s engine in his ears. Except he’d forgotten the attention the car generated, people gawking and tailgating and pulling up alongside in their little shitboxes asking them if they’d like to trade, old men in station wagons asking them if they’d like to race, but things calm down once they leave the CBD and hit the city outskirts. “When Roy picked me up from the airport in this car, I felt so embarrassed by how everyone was staring at us,“ says Saoirse. “I felt like I was letting them down by not being anyone famous or beautiful. But it’s amazing how quickly you get used to it.” She sighs. “I’m really going to miss this car when I go back to Sunset Valley.”“You’re going back to Sunset Valley?” says Joël. “For real?”“I don’t feel like I’ve got any choice,“ says Saoirse. “Not after the things he said to me tonight. There’s no respect there. None.”“Listen,” says Joël. “He loves you. Even more than he loves himself, if that’s possible. He would’ve only said those things because he felt like he was under attack. But he totally knows he’s in the wrong and that he fucked up. Just don’t expect him to admit it.”“He’d better not expect me to stay, then,” says Saoirse, pressing her foot down on the accelerator, the world outside the car melting into one long blur. -- source link
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