We get in the car. He turns on the radio to a melodic, male-voiced song.

“You are fantastic,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“Why?” He looks at me. “What is it?” His smirk is there, I can tell.

“You. How do you manage to do this to women? Did you see their faces?”

“They are your friends. I only greeted them because of you,” he explains.

“They are not my friends.” I make a face.

“Oh, no? I thought they were.” He’s tries not to laugh.

“No, they are not. I just asked them for the address of where I was.”

He nods his head. “Speaking of which, could you...