My tone doesn’t match his teasing one, and I watch a flash of realization appear that suggests Beck noticed. Thanks to the media, I have a general sense of what Beck’s upbringing was like: elite soccer academies and snazzy parties. Neither of my parents are famous athletes, so he doesn’t have any of the same insight into my background.

Maybe he thinks I’m embarrassed about it.

Maybe he thinks I don’t want to share anything personal with him because he’s Adler Beck and this is nothing but a bizarre blip in both our lives.

Or maybe he’s more astute than I thought, because he asks no further questions; just climbs in the driver’s seat. I slide into the passenger side, inhaling the clean aroma.

Beck’s car smells like him. Manly. Musky. With a rich undertone of expensive leather.

I study the spotless interior. My car is always littered with hair ties, empty water bottles, and spare shin guards. Beck’s looks like it was driven off the dealership lot twenty minutes ago.

“Where are we going?” I ask skeptically. An outing was not what I expected. I didn’t know what to expect, which is mostly why I showed up. I was curious.

“You’ll see.”

I hate not being in control, but I don’t press for more details. Instead, I snap the seatbelt into place. “Isn’t it blasphemous to drive an Italian car when half the country considers you their Kaiser?”

“Wow. You learned one German word.”

I roll my eyes. Admittedly, I’m not doing much to dispel the self-centered American stereotype. Every other Scholenberg attendee is bilingual. At least.

“And it’s a lot more than half.”

“Miraculous your ego fits inside this shoebox,” I mutter.

“To answer your question, it’s common knowledge that Germany produces the best soccer players and Italy builds the best cars.”

“Sure you didn’t just want to buy the most expensive car in the world to show off the pay disparity between male and female athletes?”

“Oh, I didn’t buy this car. They gave it to me for free.”

I glance over at him. “Seriously?”

“Uh-huh,” Beck responds, flicking on the blinker.

I roll my eyes then mostly keep my gaze fixed outside as we whizz along the streets. Beck drives the same way he does everything else: aggressively and assuredly. Not that I’m complaining. We’re outside the city limits in minutes, flying along mostly empty roads as civilization disappears behind us.

When he finally exits off the highway, it provides no indication of our destination. Just another tree-lined road. Oddly, I don’t mind the uncertainty. I figured Beck wanted to meet me in the park bathroom again. Leaving the city is unexpected and exciting.