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"Is this your car?"

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"Is this your car?" I turn, the woman's voice cutting through the music that blasts through my headphones. Her manicured finger pointing to my red sports car. She is stunning.

"What is it to you?" I ask mysteriously, raising my eyebrows. She steps closer, the personification of grace. When she opens her mouth to respond I pull her closer, our chests flush against each other. "Unless you were looking for a ride?" Her cheeks redden slightly, almost to the exact shade of my car, at both the innuendo and our close proximity.

"No, actually," She informs me, pushing on my chest "I was informing you that your ludicrously expensive car is parked outside of the lines."

He almost laughed. "So?" "So, if a person with restricted movement parks next to you, how do you expect them to get out of the car. I found it difficult myself and I assure you that I am a very mobile female."

I am taken aback by her forward attitude, she doesn't seem the type. I am about to ask her to prove it before she hurriedly runs to her car and smiles in the opposite direction. It's not the natural smirk she had previously worn, rather it's the forced smile one would wear to a family dinner.

"Nes, why the hell are you out of the car! I told you to stay in the fucking car!" A dude who obviously thinks he's taller and broader than he actually is comes up and bangs his hands down on the woman's car. He almost interjects but she replies.

"Tomas, darling, I just thought that I should drive to give you a rest because you've been working so hard." She puts her hand on her chest, like it was on mine. The man drags her up for an all-consuming kiss.

"You are not driving, get in the car." He grips her arm and all but forces her into the passenger seat.

The fear in her eyes as the man drives her away consumes me until I'm numb. I should have stopped him.