Page 80 of Crash Course

I frown as he waits me out. “Maybe I wanted to prove myself, to show him I could fit into this world he’s been trying to keep me out of.”

His gaze sharpens, like I hit closer than I meant to. “The problem with always trying to be better is you never get to be good enough. Ask me how I know.”

I blink up at him, surprised to hear those words from his mouth. Maybe it’s one more thing we have in common.

We reach the back door and Jameson holds it for me.

“Where are you going?” I ask him, curious.

“Walking you to your car.”

Oh. That’s new.

We cross the street to reach the back parking lot, where the Mustang is one of a few dozen student vehicles.

“You told Theo about your dad,” Jameson says. There’s an implied question underneath, one I sense is about my motives, not my actions.

“He found out.” I hear the edge in my own voice and hate that it’s there. “Plus, I care about Theo. He was the first person to welcome me to Ashford. We have fun,” I go on as I unlock the door and drop my bag inside.

“Fun.” Jameson echoes the word as if it tastes terrible.

“You want me to drop you at your car?” I tease, straightening. I’m joking, and I’m not. I’m greedy for even a few more seconds with him before I head to The Junction to help Bree.

“I have a few more things to do at school first.” He cocks his head as he steps closer, squinting into the sun. “Besides, I brought the Ducati.”

Lust slams into me, leaves my knees weak. The thought of Jameson on that bike was hot enough when I couldn’t stand him. Now, I can’t even look at his mouth without picturing it on me.

“You keep stealing your brother’s bike, he might lash out,” I manage.

He hooks a finger in the waistband of my jeans, stepping his feet between mine and forcing my legs wide. He cups my neck, curved lips skimming the shell of my ear.

“Then I’ll have to keep riding it until it’s not his anymore.”

25

Shay

That night I pull into the ARI garage to find my dad’s truck already there.

I bang my head against the steering wheel when Keane knocks on my window.

“Got two MacDonalds for the price of one.”

I look past Keane to see my dad watching from the door.

“You have a fifteen-minute break. One of you. Both of you.” He waves a hand.

I drag my feet inside.

“Since when are you back?” I ask when I step into the garage. Dad’s bent over a workbench, tightening a bolt that’s already flush.

“This is my first shift. Keane said you’ve been doing a good job. You didn’t need to do that.”

“I wanted to.” I hover near the door as if I might need to make a quick exit.

“You don’t need to work this hard.”

“It felt good,” I admit.