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"I'm an excellent driver, don't worry," I said,
eying the keys.
"Mmm...maybe you should use the hotel limos, instead. I recognize that
look. Desire...the need for speed..."
To my great disappointment he pocketed the keys again.
"No, no, no...aaaah, come on, I'm not an old lady who needs to be driven
around."
A corner of his mouth turned upward again; was he testing me?
Then he produced the keys again, handing them over this time.
"Try not to scratch it," he said.
"Yeah, yeah," I said quickly, snatching the keys. Maybe this arrangement
wouldn't be so bad after all.
**********
The rest of that evening was filled with all sorts of facts about
ourselves, flying back and forth. He hated to be called ‘Mike' or
‘Mikey", for instance, while I hate to be called ‘Jase' or ‘Jay'. He
had no other brothers or sisters, and his father had died when he was
twenty-four. Education-wise, he had gone to Eton in England, and then
on to Harvard.
He also came up with a small outline of how we were supposed to have met
(on the Internet, of all places), and an approximate date of our first
meeting, three months ago. His favorite drink was Guinness, as
mentioned earlier, and he only drank coffee in the morning. He didn't
drink wine, he disliked it; the same for champagne. Damn - I liked
champagne sometimes. When it came to food, he liked just about
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