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I grab one of the students nearby, slipping them a twenty dollar bill. “Hey, can you do me a favor? Take this to the girl in the corner over there.” I hold up the Diet Coke.

The kid blinks at me but nods, taking the can.

Before I can see her reaction, I’m out the door.

The McLaren looks beautiful from afar. I take a moment to look at my car, admiring how fucking sick it is. I take a look around, checking for scratches, any sign of damage. The body is good. I check the tires. Shit. Something silver catches my eye. A fucking nail.

I groan, trying to research the closet mechanic.

Zane’s Auto.

The drive the McLaren slowly to the garage with a sign that readsZane’s Auto. A tall guy with dark hair steps out, wiping his hands on a rag.

“Nice car,” he says, walking over. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Nail in the tire,” I say.

Zane nods, crouching to inspect the tire. “We’ll get it sorted.”

He starts going on about how he’s going to take care of it for me.

I hear two people laughing as they head to us. One of them I recognize instantly.

Caleb.

I straighten.

And the other? A girl. Short, young-looking, laughing at something he said.

I stiffen, my jaw tightening.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter.

Zane glances up, straightening. “You know Caleb?”

“Yeah,” I say, glaring as they approach. “Seems like he’s got his cock in every girl on campus.”

The second the words leave my mouth, I know I’ve fucked up.

Zane’s expression darkens, and he shoves me back so hard I almost fall to the ground.

“Watch your mouth,” he snaps.

I blink, confused. “What?”

“Babe,” the girl says, her voice soft. “What’s going on?”

Caleb steps in, pulling Zane back. “This is between me and him.”

“What the hell is wrong with you and your friends?” I bark, stepping toward Caleb.

“No one talks about Remy like that,” Zane growls.

It clicks, all at once.

The girl isn’t just some random hookup. She’s Zane’s.

“Shit,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. “I didn’t know. Look, man, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”