<pre><p data-p-id="6638541d239a73ee617e43a24bbe04c0" style="text-align:center;"><b>Imagine Barbara Palvin wearing sneakers instead of those gorgeous boots (in the image in the media box), and you're good to go:)</b><br><br></p>
<p data-p-id="12bca160981db8da321a1b9649a2bba8" style="text-align:center;"><b><u>Chapter Fifteen: What's your Favourite colour?</u></b><br><br></p>
<p data-p-id="294d9847677a60e84cf1c211db8db02d">"C'mon... let's get you some help." I stated and tried to pull him up, obviously with some of his own help. C'mon, I barely weighed hundred and ten pounds. What do you expect?</p>
<p data-p-id="ff70617b650bace081b9d267667bc9c7">With some of his assistance, I draped his arm around my shoulder and dragged him towards his truck.</p>
<p data-p-id="5084874abee92546e89f9d16228fd558">Walking through the <i>reckless-and-determined-to-run</i> people, he fished out his keys from his jeans pocket for me. I hopped inside his truck in the driver's seat after comfortably seating him on the passenger's seat.</p>
<p data-p-id="878aedf048a9414dbe8c5ff231fe3046">I would've grabbed my own car but, it was situated where the police cars were. <i>Which meant I am definitely getting in trouble. </i></p>
<p data-p-id="6d36e93d4b855d219fc9f01d01b3a07e">But, in that moment, I cared less.</p>
<p data-p-id="e64bd8e5058862033e502bffbac74e3b">I quickly injected the keys and hit the road. I'd never driven a truck before but, it wasn't much different from driving a car.</p>
Our stories behind the scenes. Comment if you understand.