FRIDAY'S GIRL ·ϿʘϾ·

Chapter 25

***DRAFT***

Several families were playing mini-golf near the castle, surrounded by the light of the sunset and the cheerful sounds of conversations inviting everyone to join in the fun. Scandia Golfland had various outdoor attractions and indoor ones like the Arcade room.

Brad was as excited as a five-year-old. After getting off the bike in the parking lot, he was nearly jumping and shouting with enthusiasm. The first thing we did was eat pizza at the café, and for dessert, we had a couple of ice creams while reminiscing about the day's events. The plan to reunite the Friedmans dominated our conversation, making us laugh as we recalled some funny moments. But the best part came when we headed to the bumper car circuit.

"Is it too late to back out?" I asked, eyeing the compact vehicle with suspicion.

"I promise I won't be too hard on you." Brad flashed one of those heart-stopping smiles that left me breathless.

"I'll be happy if I finish with all my teeth and no broken legs." Not completely convinced, I stepped into the vehicle and took my seat.

I never admitted that I was terrible behind the wheel. In fact, I didn't even have a driver's license. Yeah, I know, how is it possible that a California girl like me — an antisocial with all the time in the world — hadn't taken the test yet? Simple, my family's bank account was in the red, and we had to juggle just to make it to the end of the month. How could I ask my sister to give me driving lessons when she was out working all day, and each private lesson cost nearly a hundred bucks?

"Now, you need to put on the seatbelt." Brad leaned over me, and I caught a whiff of his clean scent mixed with a subtle woodsy note. His hands moved quickly to secure the straps while my eyes were fixed on his perfect face. There was no denying he was really handsome.

"How do you start this thing?" I stammered when his intense gaze locked onto mine. Suddenly, it felt incredibly hot despite being only sixty degrees outside.

"Just gently press the gas." His voice was like a caress to my ears. It was so deep that I almost choked swallowing. I was feeling ridiculously mushy!

I did what he said, and the car started moving in fits and starts.

"This is a piece of cake!" I lied, hitting the brake instead of the gas.

"Yeah, right..." Brad was cracking up as he got into his bumper car.

It took me a little over a minute to get the hang of it. When my schoolmate zoomed past me, a competitive spirit kicked in, and I took off, determined to bump him from behind. But I ended up crashing into the guardrail, letting out a ridiculous squeal.

"Come on, slowpoke!" he shouted after doing a full lap, ramming into the side of my car.

"You're gonna pay for that, jerk!" I floored it, and the car shot across the track, crashing into another car driven cautiously by a woman in her fifties. "Sorry!"

"It's okay," she replied, steering the wheel. "If you see a fifteen-year-old boy with dark blonde hair, wearing a blue shirt and driving a green, yellow, and red car, give him a good hit for me. He's my son, and he's the reason I'm stuck in here."

"Will do, ma'am. I promise I'll get him," I assured her, bumping the car again; I was a terrible driver.

The cool breeze and the background music surrounded us as we immersed ourselves in the thrill of the moment, pushing everything else out of my mind. Driving was a fantastic way to burn off some adrenaline.

After half an hour of racing around the track, we sat on a bench to drink some sodas. We were both really thirsty. Brad was looking at me in an intensely strange way. The blush returned, coloring my cheeks.