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... and slid into the driver’s seat.

I sat there, trying to gather the shredded remnants of my dignity.

My dress clung in folds, my hair felt like it had been through a wind tunnel, and I could still hear faint whispers from the speaker in my pocket like it was cursing me in post-production.

The engine purred to life.

"I hate you," I muttered.

"You say that a lot," Adrien said mildly, glancing over with a little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Still ...

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