I’d overcome almost all of my fears and after all of it—singing with Bleeder Valve, the tattoo, telling Chelsea off—I knew I’d be able to handle whatever happened next.

As I turned onto Lakeshore Drive, a car pulled up alongside me and slowed down.

I glanced up, half expecting to see a black Acura with tinted windows or maybe even the lawn-mower guy’s truck, but it was a silver Xterra with none other than Anthony Beck at the wheel.

“Beautiful girl like you shouldn’t have to walk anywhere. Get in” is what he said; what I heard was, “Let’s get you out of here.”

“Dude, you didn’t just say that.” Correction: Anthony Beck and three junior guys.

I was sure he was just being nice in front of his friends, so I let him off the hook. “Looks like you have a full load.”

“She can sit back here, Becks. I’ll make room,” one of the guys shouted over the stereo as he patted his thigh.

“Schmitty, backseat,” Anthony said.

Steve Schmitt glared from the shotgun seat. “I’m six two, dude. No fucking way.”

I couldn’t believe Anthony was making an issue out of this. Especially for me. I looked down at my boots, then up toward Kismet High. “It’s okay; I’m fine walking, really. It’s not far. I’ll catch you at school.”

“Schmitty, backseat or your damn-ass long legs can walk,” Anthony barked.

“Dude!”

“Dude! Serena’s not sitting in the backseat of my car.” He didn’t sound pissed or anything, but his tone and the look he gave Steve didn’t leave any room for argument. I never guessed Anthony was so, well, commanding.

Steve opened the door, got out, and held it for me as I reluctantly climbed in. I really wasn’t the kind of girl who liked guys making such a fuss over them, but it was kind of cool. It made me regret how I treated him even more.

I glanced back at his friends. From the collective looks on their faces, you might’ve thought Anthony had signed them up for Brokeback Mountain, the Musical. Although, I suppose to a junior guy, pressing thighs with another guy pretty much qualified as homosexual activity. After all, these were the very same guys who required an empty buffer seat between them at the movie theater. I grimaced apologetically at them.

Before Anthony even had the SUV in park at the school lot, the guys shot out. Laughing, I put my hand on the door handle. Anthony took hold of my other hand, weaving his fingers between mine. My breath caught as a dangerous and exciting hum spread up my arm. “Stay for a minute, we have a few.”

“Okay.” I settled back in the seat, but didn’t exactly feel settled inside.