it. I’ve always been squeamish. “Oh my God. Stop!”
“You big baby.” He chuckles at my side, and we follow the assistant to parking bay three, where we are confronted with a tiny blue car. Theo scowls at it and inspects his keys, reading the label and checking it against the registration number. “A Citroen C1? Don’t you have something bigger?”
The assistant guy smiles apologetically and shrugs one shoulder. “I’m sorry. We’re fully booked. You got the last car. It’s always busy this time of year.”
“Am I even going to be able to fit in this? I hate small cars.” Theo’s scowl deepens, and he rubs at his forehead.
He already told me his choice was to either hire a car or get the bus … and I absolutely do not want to get on a bus in this heat if he changes his mind now, so I step forward and put my hand on his back. “It’s only a thirty-minute drive, you said. This will be fine. It’s not like we have a load of luggage that won’t fit. It’s just the two of us. Just scoot the seat all the way back.”
He nods, seemingly reluctant, and heads to the boot, stowing our cases as I slide into the passenger seat. When Theo opens the driver’s door and leans in to depress the seat button and slide the seat back as far as it will go, I smile and watch the show of him trying to fold himself into position. He’s so damn tall, probably about six foot one or two. Even though the seat is as far back as it will go, his knees almost touch the steering wheel. He looks so exasperated; it’s almost comical. I can’t resist a little chuckle, which earns me a scowl.
“Maybe you could drive?” he suggests, looking at me hopefully, but then his face falls. “Ah, crap. You had those whiskeys.” He lets out a groan and adjusts himself in his seat, shuffling, tilting the seat back to try and get another precious inch of legroom.
“I wouldn’t be able to anyway, even without the drinking. I never bothered to learn. Living in London, it’s easier and quicker to get to places on the tube or walk. And parking—don’t even get me started on the parking.” I roll my eyes and remember nights where Lucas would complain and grumble about having to drive round and round the block, looking for spaces to park his precious Audi, if we took his car anywhere.
“I don’t drive much either. Cambridge is mostly set up for bikes, and everything I want is basically within walking distance or a short taxi ride away.” He nods in agreement and pulls a scrap of paper from his pocket with a postcode scribbled on it. He punches it into the satnav, and we watch as it calculates the route for us.
Twenty-nine minutes.
I smile brightly, imagining being there.
Theo takes a deep breath, his hands gripping the wheel tightly, seeming to ground himself. Then, he grinds the clutch, and the engine revs too loudly, as he can’t quite manoeuvre his legs right in the tight space. We bunny-hop out of the space. I chuckle behind my hand, which earns me another dark look.
The drive is nice despite Theo swearing every time he has to change gear because he’s struggling to adjust his legs, and whenever we stop at traffic lights, he either stalls the engine or bunny-hops off the line so hard, my head bumps back against the headrest.
I turn on the radio, and we both hum along while the satnav directs him to wherever we’re going. I don’t even know the hotel name. I don’t even care. He could be taking me anywhere right now, and I wouldn’t even object to it; I’m so serene and chill.
My eyes are trained out of the window on the hills, trees, and all the green that surrounds me. As a city girl, my eyes are wide and excited at the lush scenery, my heart is in my throat, and stupidly, I feel a teensy bit emotional.
When the satnav tells us to pull into a sweeping gravel driveway flanked by trees, I sit up straighter and look around excitedly. At the end, it opens into a car park, and Theo swings into a space, breathing a sigh of relief as he cuts the engine.
I grin over at him. “You’re a terrible driver.”
One of his eyebrows rises. “But did you die?” he jokes before glancing at his watch. “It’s