Ashley used to call him “skeevy,” and that was the first word that came to mind as his arms finally loosened from around me.

“City life wasn’t doing it for you?” he said.

“Trust me, I’d rather still be in the city,” I said. “Would I rather still be paying city prices? Hell no.”

I couldn’t afford a Nashville apartment, food, and bills off an intern’s measly wages; that much was certain. New York felt even further out of reach, but with the right salary, I could make it happen. I just needed to convince my boss I was worth it.

“Sounds like you need a side hustle,” he said, reaching into a nearby cooler for another cold can. “I’ve heard OnlyFans is hiring. I’ll be your first subscriber.”

His gaze slid over me pointedly, and I rolled my eyes. “Oh, ha ha, very funny. Keep dreaming.”

He shrugged, but the way he was looking at me was hardly casual. Alex was hot, no doubt about it. He was exactly the type I usually went for: broad-shouldered with a handsome face, cocky with a massive ego. But I was getting tired of dating the same damn type and getting the same damn results.

Besides, he was my ex’s best friend. The idea of dating him felt slimy.

Danielle and I had plenty to chat about and she swiftly launched into relaying every bit of gossip she knew about our former classmates. Who was married, who was pregnant, and who had ended up in prison. Alex was restless though, and kept glancing up every time another car pulled in.

“Waiting for someone?” Matthew said, crushing his empty can under his shoe.

“He’s probably staring at his baby again,” Danielle teased, rolling her eyes before she explained to me, “Alex did some fancy new thing to his car and now he can’t stop talking about it.”

“Which one is yours?” I said, and Alex pointed beyond the fire, toward a red Dodge Challenger.

“It’s a Hellcat,” he said proudly. “Got a new tune on her too. Baby fuckin’ hauls ass.”

A backfire rang out like a gunshot, and all of us turned our heads toward the road. Whoever had just arrived sounded loud; I could hear their engine long before I could see them. Headlights flashed as they turned into the trees, and Alex slowly got to his feet with folded arms.

“Well, well, well,” he said. “The losers decided to show up.”

Two cars were approaching, their windows so tinted I couldn’t see inside. My breath stilled in my lungs when I spotted the sleek purple Mustang in the lead, violet-colored neon glowing from its undercarriage, the engine rumbling aggressively. I wouldn’t have recognized it if I wasn’t such a social media stalker, but I knew instantly who it belonged to.

Manson. He’d made a significant upgrade from that old Bronco he used to drive.

A white Nissan 350Z cruised behind him, practically gliding over the ground, bass bumping loudly from its stereo. That car was Jason’s, and if the videos I’d seen Vincent post were any indication, it was a force to be reckoned with in the amateur drift world.