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I had a cropped jacket with me that got lost sometime throughout the night—I don't even know when. It didn't matter. My stupefaction was so strong it blocked out the chilly autumn wind. Because in The Factory's parking space, behind a growing wall of people, a small collection of tuned cars that looked like they came straight out of a game awaited.

My jaw must've gone slack against my will because Hamza's hand soon lifted it, closing my gaping mouth.

"Caught your interest now, eh?" Scooby said with a smug grin, puffing his chest. Next to him, the guys who followed us out here didn't look any less proud.

Looking between Hamza, Scooby, and the car expo, I blinked twice to make sure I didn't forget if I took something else besides Molly and started tripping. But no, it was all still there: the cars, the people.

I was rendered speechless as I followed Hamza and his group toward the parked cars. The crowd parted as they watched our approaching party with attentive eyes. The hushed whispers buzzed like bees around us, their thirst and excitement for fresh gossip annoyingly unperturbed by our presence.

I wondered if this was how it always went when Hamza went somewhere. Having random people act like this was bad enough, but teenage students who were quite literally obsessed with him? That would be a different type of madness. At that moment, I could understand why he kept skipping class.

One by one, engines purred, and colored LEDs came alive, bathing the asphalt as the drivers jumped in and claimed their cars, putting on a show for the gathering crowd. It reminded me of the racing games my brother used to be obsessed with as a kid.

There was a time when little Stefan would convince me to join him, and I'm not going to lie—once I got the hang of it, I found myself enjoying it. I never thought playing games would come in handy, yet looking over the colorful display and recognizing some of the car brands, I smiled to myself, mentally thanking my brother for nagging me to play.

Scooby swished away to claim a bright yellow Chevrolet, grinning ear to ear at the revering crowd as he brought the car to life. Cosmin followed suit, lighting up the bright blue LEDs of what seemed to be a Nissan GT-R, a personal favorite. Back in the day, if you tuned it well, it kicked ass hard and would win you most games. Obviously, I would pick it for most races.

Behind the wheel of a hot pink Toyota GT86 with white butterflies painted on its side, I saw Pixie. So, she was a racer, too. Somehow, it did not surprise me. She was hanging with Hamza's crowd.

Out of all the rumors, them being racers was the only one that turned out true so far. I mean, if those were the cars they drove around, who could deny it?

But with Pixi gone, I found myself alone with Hamza and frowned, much too aware of how the crowd scrutinized us. Me. The way I stood next to him. I hated it. I hated it so much.

Taking a step to the side, I intended to put some space between us and save myself some of the misery that would come with this juicy bit reaching the student body. Hamza pulled out his key fob, diverting my attention and effectively stopping me in my tracks when he pressed it.

Most of the spectating crowd was watching with anticipation. It seemed like I was one of the few shocked to see his car. But when the headlights turned on, the doors lifted, and my eyes found it from where it stood, camouflaged within the shadows, I couldn't help but react on impulse.

"A Lamborghini?" I shouted. "You're driving a fucking Lambo?"

Not just any Lamborghini, I concluded, rushing to the car and bending to take a peek inside. From the black leather and red lining coverings to the dainty LED lights shining like little red stars on the headliner and a red underglow that made it look like the car was floating on a pool of blood, everything seemed customized to fit Hamza's specifically dark style. And boy, did he have some expensive taste.

But what got my eyebrows knitting was the car's dashboard. A tablet-like screen took over the center of the console; around it, a bunch of buttons illuminated in the same red as the rest of the car were lit, making it look like the command panel of a war craft, not a luxury sports car.

"What the—"

"Hop in." Hamza came in so close; his hot breath lashed the back of my neck, making me jump and almost hit my head.

I turned to find him watching me, a hand resting over the roof, hazel eyes gleaming. Seeing me silently staring but not moving an inch, he nodded toward the car.

"I promised you a ride, didn't I?"

Hands falling on my hips, I gave him a once-over, lips pursed before turning on my heels, trying my best but miserably failing to hide the excitement bubbling inside me as I bounced around the car's nose and to the passenger's side.

Growing up in this city, you'd never see such an expensive car driving by. None of the wannabe street racers could afford a luxury car like a Lamborghini. To think that Hamza owned such a beauty and drove it around this god-forsaken town... I shook my head, ready to discard the thought, when another thought popped up.

"You rich or something?"

Once seated, I couldn't help but take a double look at the details of Hamza's monster car. My eyes trailed over the fine leather and the intricate dashboard until they landed on the monster himself. A dark brow arched at my question.

"I mean, how did you afford—" Before I could finish, he stepped on the gas.

We didn't move. But the low hum of the engine turned into a feral growl as it came alive, making me jump in my seat. Not a second later, the rest of the drivers reacted, their cars belting a roar of their own. A pack of wolves answering to their alpha.

I should have expected it the second time, but I didn't. My body reacted on its own accord, flinching and winning an amused look from the demon on my left. Or as amused as Hamza got, as he pursed his lips in a tight line, hazel eyes shining with mischief.

"Who would've thought," he mused, leaning in. A soft spark lit up his gritty voice. "My car is all it took to catch you."

Rolling my eyes, I leaned closer, mirroring him.

"Just your car, pretty boy. Just your car."

"Took you a while to figure it out."

I blinked.

"What?"

"That I'm attractive." That unnerving smirk is making its apparition.

"I said pretty, not attractive. There's a difference."

"Tomato, tomato," he said, dismissing my words with a waving hand. "Bottom line, you find me attractive."

"Do you have selective hearing or something?"

"It's ok, Raisa. Many do. Just admit it."

Letting out an exasperated breath, I busied myself to find the seatbelt. Fidgeting with the band in an attempt to get it out, my breath hitched when Hamza leaned over me.

It took him all but a moment. A couple of seconds, really. Enough to send his perfume straight to my brain and fry it. For his clavicle to stop right before my eyes. For the loose T-shirt to offer me a peek at his toned chest and more ink.

My mouth dried. My hands started sweating. My heart missed a beat. Maybe two. God, something was wrong with me! Must be. Because... Because!

By the time Hamza was back in his seat, my belt had secured and buckled, and I felt more hot and bothered than necessary. I wished my makeup had stayed strong and resisted up to this point and that my foundation had been still doing its job, saving me embarrassment.

"You good there, baby?" he said with that smirk, which I started to think was his trademark facial expression.

"Yeah..." I said, breathy voice betraying me. I cleaned my throat. "Yeah, all good."

"Good, we wouldn't want you too hot and bothered just yet."

"What's that supposed to—"

I blinked, and the car took off with such power that I was plastered onto the leather seat. My pulse quickened, the anticipation thickened, and a tangible force pressed down on my chest.

"I thought this was supposed to be just a little night ride!" 

What do you guys think? Will Hamza and Raisa get away unscathed? What about the others?

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