I adjusted my grip on the steering wheel, pointedly ignoring Griffin's white-knuckled grasp on his seat belt. His face had cycled through various shades of panic since we'd left his apartment ten minutes ago.
"Juliana, maybe you could—" His voice hitched as I braked suddenly for a yellow light. "—go a little faster?"
I eyed the speedometer. "I'm going twenty miles per hour."
"Exactly! The speed limit is forty-five!"
A line of cars had formed behind us, their drivers undoubtedly cursing the sleek sports car crawling along the main boulevard. One particularly impatient driver honked loudly as they swerved around us.
"I'm being careful with your car," I said defensively. "You're the one who insisted I drive."
Griffin ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, messing it up completely. "Because you said you needed practice! I didn't realize that meant we'd be moving slower than pedestrians!"
