“I’m fine,” I reassure her. “But your new club might be short a member, sorry.”
“Don’t apologise to me,” she says with a toss of her head. “Apologise to your future self. Knowing this lot, you can come find me when you change your mind, and we’ll exchange notes.”
Then her eyes sweep across Clare, and she gives a sniff. “Skank.”
She walks away, the attention of half the boys in the corridor going with her.
My friend hooks two fingers through her necklace, staring after the girl with starry eyes. “What a classy bitch. It’s a pity we’re natural enemies.”
Then she recovers from the distraction and tugs me outside.
As soon as I spot it in the student carpark, the sleek vehicle stops me in my tracks, eyes dazzled by the Giallo Genio paint job. It was pretty in the garage but in the natural light, it’s spectacular.
Yellow but not a yellow I’ve ever seen on a car before. The iridescent blue topcoat makes the colour richer, deeper, purer. A colour I’d love to smear across a canvas, turning the grimmest scene into bright sunshine.
“Holy fuck!” Clare turns on her heel. “Hey, Zane. Want to buy her friend a matching car so we can cruise the streets together?”
A split second of envy consumes me; I’d love for things to be as uncomplicated for me as they are for my friend.
Then I decide they can be.
Zane and I have moved past what happened at the party. Time to stop worrying about the consequences of accepting money and how it will look or what it says about me.
Time to stop letting a few minutes of mistaken identity suck the fun from the experience of dating someone unbelievably wealthy. I enjoy his gorgeous body and I’ve done nothing to earn that either.
A teacher walks past, stare full of envy, and a new worry pinches at me.
I cut classes last week, too.
I’ll turn into a deadbeat.
Then I snigger. Yeah. A deadbeat driving a hundred grand plus of premium performance car. It’s not like my grades can get worse, and most of my teachers probably won’t even realise I haven’t made it to class.
I press the unlock button and there’s a satisfying thunk. Another button and the butterfly doors rise, exposing the gorgeous interior; deep black with chevrons of a blue so intense it appears to glow. I trail my fingers over the lightweight carbon fibre of the vehicle’s sleek sides.
“Get in,” I tell Clare, waving magnanimously. “I’ll drive us out of the city, and you can drive back.”
She doesn’t need to be told twice, clapping her hands, then easing herself into the low passenger seat so fast it’s like the car swallowed her whole.
A bout of shyness strikes me as I glance at Zane, his lips curling with the same gentle pleasure my mum has when she gets me a gift I instantly adore. “You’re sure your dad won’t mind?”
“Who cares about his dad?” Clare indignantly squawks while he gives me a warm smile and shakes his head. “He gave you the keys. Get in and drive.”
I slide into the vehicle and close the doors before smoothing my hand over the interior, eyes puzzling at the layout, getting used to the strange angle of the seat. Most of the controls are on the steering wheel and I quickly familiarise myself with their functions. The ignition button is on the left and the launch control on the right.
Once I’ve adjusted the mirrors and fondled the gearshift, Zane gestures for me to lower the window. “There’s an instruction manual in the glove box if you strike a problem, it has our AA card inside.” He ducks down, arms resting on the lowered window. “You got your phone?”
“Yeah.”
He leans farther into the vehicle, his fingers hooking out my seatbelt strap where it’s twisted, laying it flat, then briefly cupping my cheek before standing. He thumps the car roof twice and steps back. “Call if you get stuck.”
I share a delighted smile with Clare, then start the vehicle, nervously inching across the carpark like a well-appointed snail while the engine growls a savage call.
“If you go this speed on the highway, we’ll start a pileup and die.”
“Just getting used to it.” I add a touch more accelerator, feeling the rush of power as the vehicle responds, wheels eagerly gripping the tarmac until I laugh. “It’s like wearing a formal dress to a backyard barbeque. We are well overdressed for the highway.”
“Hell, yeah we are.” Clare primps her hair in the side mirror. “Now, let this baby rip.”
