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As I drive past the front of the building, Theo’s pulling out of the lot in his Lambo with friends. Jameson’s getting into the Porsche with the girls from the hall earlier. Guess he doesn’t care if they go to school here.

I put my foot down to leave him in my dust. But when I give the Mustang gas, it backfires.

Something’s wrong.

I nurse the car along the road, glancing in my rearview mirror.

Jameson pulls his glasses down, an expression of satisfaction on his brutally beautiful face.

I should’ve killed him when I had the chance.

12

Shay

Two hours.

It took me two hours of my night off to figure out what was wrong with my car. And less than a second to know it wasn’t an accident.

Jameson Ashford sabotaged my car.

A loose distributor cap isn’t a big deal if you know what you’re looking for. But it can wreak havoc with your engine and put you out of commission fast.

“How was your date with Theo?” Megan asks when we’re in line for coffee the next morning.

“Nonexistent,” I gripe, recalling the apologetic text I sent him last night to say I couldn’t make it. “Car trouble.”

She frowns, but I don’t explain.

Jameson must hate me, or at least hate the idea of me anywhere near his brother. No matter how I imagined he might be human the day he drove me to school, I’m still dirt compared to his precious Ashford blood.

“Well, you’ll have the chance to see him in action tonight at Test Track.” Megan’s voice brings me back.

“I thought the Challenger series didn’t start for another couple weeks?”

She shoots me a look. “This race isn’t sanctioned.”

“Test Track is a big deal,” Zane calls over the noise of engines and cheering.

“It’s more fun with vodka,” Megan says, grinning as she holds up a flask.

I take it and toss back a sip, mostly to keep warm against the biting wind that slices through my bomber jacket.

It’s the first time I’ve been to the facility where Ashford Racing Inc. practices at night as a spectator.

And next year’s new ARI driver is on this track.

Music pounds through the speakers people have brought for the occasion. The participants might technically be in college, but it has the intensity of the real thing.

“So if this isn’t official, what’s tonight for?” I lean in.

Zane flashes his teeth. “Psychological warfare.”

“And the best parking spot on campus,” Raj adds.

I frown. “I thought that was Jameson’s?”

“Only because he always wins. Knox nicked it one time and his car got trashed. Jameson had it back in a week,” Raj confirms.