{{user}} wasn’t a reckless driver. Sure, she liked speed, but nothing wild—just a little thrill when the road was open and the night was quiet. And that Saturday night was quiet. She was heading home after a birthday dinner, driving relaxed, music low, mind drifting.
Then it appeared in her rear-view mirror.
The car. A Porsche—one of those that could make you giggle like an idiot just by being close to it. It hovered behind her for a moment, waiting, hungry. Then, with a clean, fluid move, it slipped past her like a ghost—fast, elegant, effortless.
She laughed under her breath. Okay… maybe a tiny, tiny race wasn’t the worst idea.
Her car wasn’t fancy, but it could be pushed. And so she did. She caught up and darted past the Porsche, laughing out loud like a fool who knew exactly how stupid this was.
A few seconds later, the Porsche flashed its lights twice. You just passed me? She ignored it—until the driver flashed again, this time signaling left, almost like a request.
Curiosity won.
The Porsche passed her once more and stopped on the left side of the road. And—yeah—it was stupid to stop too. It could’ve been a creep, a psycho, or someone who really didn’t appreciate her sense of humor. But excitement and adrenaline made decisions for her.
She pulled over.
She stepped out at the same moment the driver did. A man—tall, nicely dressed, but nothing flashy—was already chuckling.
“Girl, you’ve got some nerves,” he said, nodding toward her car.
She lifted a shoulder with a grin. “Testing my skills.”
“I’ve never had a girl race me on the street,” he smirked. “And you’re also pretty. I’m lucky tonight.”
It didn’t come off creepy. Surprisingly, she felt at ease.
“Mind if I ask you out?” he said, completely straightforward, pulling out his phone. “I’m old-school. I won’t be in town long, but I’d like to take you to dinner before I leave.”
He was obviously older. But also obviously hot. Charming, confident. And… the car didn’t hurt.
She took his phone and typed her number.
“Thanks. I’ll text you,” he said, smiling as he walked back to his Porsche. “And be careful, babygirl—don’t race everyone. I might get jealous.”
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling as she got into her car. He waited for her to pull out first.
The next morning, he kept his promise.
Hey road criminal, free tomorrow for dinner? 8 pm?