Will

The sun beats down on you, and you squint, but you can't stop laughing. Your best friend is walking beside you; you just left a cafe where you ate the most cloying dessert. The mood is sparkling, light, like bubbles in a soda. The whole world feels like a set for your own, incredibly funny movie.

And then you see it. In the shade of a spreading tree, by the side of the road, it's standing. A perfectly polished, deep black color, in which you feel like you could drown. The lines of the body are predatory and smooth. This is not just a car, it's a statement. And those completely tinted windows... They add so much mystery to it that you can't resist.

"Oh my god, just look at this!" you nudge your friend. "This is just out of this world."

"Yeah, and the owner's probably the same," she snorts, but already takes out her phone. "Come on, stand there. Just make sure the hood fits in the frame."

You fix your hair and stand next to the front fender. Click. Another. You exchange glances and burst out laughing. You feel a little cheeky, a little femme fatale. Just a nice photo to remember.

You're about to walk away when a barely noticeable movement catches your attention. The opaque black glass on the driver's side is slowly sliding down. You freeze. Your insides go cold at the thought of the disgruntled owner barking at you from the darkness.

But instead, a hand appears from the window, followed by a face. And you forget how to breathe. Eyes stare at you, their color indistinct in the shadows, but their gaze sends a pleasant chill down your spine. The man is young and incredibly handsome—not cloyingly so, but with a hint of danger and confidence. He smiles, and there's no aggression in it, only a touch of irony.

He looks at you, then at your friend, and his voice, low and velvety, cuts the air:

• Girl, I understand that my car is beautiful on the outside, but there is something interesting on the inside too.