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‘Would you?’ I pressed.

‘Yeah. I restored that car from a rusted chunk of metal. If someone messed with it, I’d notice.’

I didn’t say anything to that, letting her stew in the silence.

‘Fine!’ she exclaimed, after a far shorter period of time than I’d expected. ‘I want to check it out myself, though.’

She sulked all the way to the next garage.

We passed garages periodically. Most of them were attached to gas stations and well advertised. I guessed plenty of people had car trouble on these long stretches ofhighway. Even though it was after four, the garage was buzzing when Brooke pulled in.

The lot was infused with the sharp, bright smell of rubber tires, overlaid with a funky fuel perfume. It was dirty and messy and there were pictures of almost-naked women on the wall, and Brooke looked like she was in heaven.

I had no idea how we’d be received – two teenage girls in a vintage Mustang – but Brooke had a confidence around her car that was completely unflappable, even in the face of dirty men in overalls staring at her like she didn’t have a clue.

‘I just need you to hitch it up for me,’ she said, her hands firmly planted on her hips. As we’d driven south, it had gotten progressively warmer, so Brooke was now wearing denim shorts and a loose white T-shirt tied in a knot, exposing a flash of her belly. She lookedgorgeous, and I had to wrap my arms around my waist to keep my feelings to myself. This wasn’t the time to make things weird between us, not when we were right on the precipice of starting to trust each other.

‘What’s wrong? We can take a look.’

One of the men stepped forward. He was wearing a white tank tucked into his overalls, which were open to the waist with the arms tied up. With his close-cropped hair and scruffy beard, he was almost too perfect. He looked exactly how I expected a mechanic to look.

‘I don’t need you to look at it,’ Brooke said sweetly. ‘I just need you to hitch it up so I can check something.’

Two more guys in the back of the shop exchanged glances.

‘Okay,’ the first mechanic said, holding up his hands. ‘You know what you’re doing?’

‘Yes,’ she said emphatically, already pulling her thick hair back into a ponytail.

In that moment, I didn’t feel like I could keep my feelings for Brooke hidden, so I went to the vending machine in the little waiting room and got myself a Sprite, coaxing a wrinkled dollar bill into the slot until it was finally accepted.

One of the other mechanics came in while the machine was spitting out my can.

‘Hi,’ I said, trying out being friendly.

‘Hey. So … your friend?’ he asked, jerking his chin toward Brooke.

‘My cousin? What about her?’

I cracked open the can, gunshot-loud in the confined space.

‘She knows cars?’

I grinned and sipped the soda. ‘She built that thing.’

‘Shebuiltit?’

‘Yeah. Well, she stripped it down and rebuilt the engine from scratch. All the interiors. It was a total wreck and she turned it into …’

I gestured out the dirty waiting room window at the Mustang. I knew nothing about cars, but even I could tell this one was something special. It had been a big thing at school, that first day Brooke had pulled up in her new car. She had the top down, sunglasses on and her hair loose, and every single person in the parking lot stared at her. It was like a scene in a movie. It hadn’t taken long for thenews to spread that Brooke hadn’t gotten the car from her parents or as a gift – she’d actually done the work to restore it herself. According to the boys in my class, that was hot. I thought it was hot, too.

My new mechanic friend went to the vending machine and punched in a code for a drink of his own.

‘Luca, the guy who’s helping her – he’s a total junkie for vintage cars.’

I grinned at him. ‘This should be fun, then.’

He held out his hand and I shook it. ‘I’m Mikey.’