“Oh my God, this guy wasbornto be a Campus Driver!” Carrie screams into a pillow. “Why am I not surprised Don picked him?”
“Because he’s perfect.” Don nods approvingly, before turning to me. “So? Hit us with it!”
“She’ll never guess,” Malcolm says. “I literally just bought it.”
“A Ford.”
His eyebrows shoot up.
Slam dunk, baby.
Donovan starts clapping. “Nice!”
“Lucky guess.” Malcolm scowls. “I mean, she had a chance in—”
“I’m not done,” I continue. “You like to stand out; you like to make an impression—even if it costs you. The clothes you wear, even the way you do things in bed… Youlikebeing different. And you own it.”
It’s not exactly rocket science—the guy has a vibe. When he does things, he doesn’t do them by halves, or at least that’s what I’m picking up, and it seems my intuition is right, because he’s nodding and laughing at me now, his eyes sparkling.
“You saw me check that football player out when I came in, didn’t you?”
“And his girlfriend.”
“And his girlfriend,” he agrees. “Twenty bucks says I could have them both.”
“Fifty if you get them both at the same time.”
“This is my kind of party,” Carter says, folding a slice of pizza into his mouth.
Malcolm stretches out his hand, and I shake it. I’ve officially just made my first work buddy—provided I don’t mess this up. Provided Idoget hired this summer, after all.
“What Ford, though?” Lewis asks, his eyes lingering on my hand.
I’m holding on to Malcolm’s fingers a little longer than strictly necessary, just to gauge Lewis’s reaction. For a second there, it felt like I was being something close to socially fluid… But the moment he focuses on me, I’m back to the same hot mess I’ve always been. My mind goes blank.
“Amy?”
Shit! Stop staring at Lewis. Let go of Malcolm’s hand. Be normal.
I clear my throat, turning back to my fellow newbie.
“I can’t decide,” I start. “But I’m thinking he’d look good in a Fairland.”
Malcolm gasps. “No freaking way! You are something else…”
“Year?” Adam prompts.
“Well, the Fairlane came out in 1955. I can’t decide whether he’s the type of guy to go for an original, or one of the later models, so—”
“Lewiiiis!”
The end of my sentence gets lost in the mass of blond hair that just cannonballed across the room and straight intomyCampus Driver’s lap.
Lewis beams. “Hey, Amber! It’s great you could make it.”
“How could I say no?”
I focus on my wine, balling my fists as I try desperately to reason with myself.
