I watch the race, trying not to freak out when I don't spot Jake or Clarissa anytime soon. To my surprise, however, another group approaches me. The same trio of girls that had been watching me cruelly earlier on, not much older than myself. I frown as their eyes all lock on mine in some creepy simultaneous movement, a predatory gaze burning in their orbs.

I held a staring competition with Nash and won, I can take them easily.

The girls stop a couple of feet away from me, waiting for my gaze to back down. Of course, to their dismay, I don't. By the way the main girl of the trio – a tall, tanned-skinned, curly-haired brunette –looks at me, I'm positive she's the leader. With her hand on her cocked hip and a judgy expression on her face, I've no choice but to assume these girls took on the rules of every Disney movie's 'mean girl.'

God, isn't that a bit too cliché?

Like come on, my school actually doesn't have a 'mean girl' group thankfully. Clarissa might be Miss Popular, but she's one of the nicest people I know.

"Hi, can I help you?" I chirp up politely.

Maybe I'm being a bit too judgemental without even getting to know them.

The brunette flips her hair over her bare shoulder. "Who are you, and what are you doing at our place?"

"Yeah," Another one pipes up – a really short girl with a dark, pixie cut hairstyle and fierce blue eyes. "And what's up with your clothes? It looks like it came from a dumpster. Why would anyone ever wear such a .... Thing."

Well, I think my clothes qualify to be on Pinterest despite being from a thrift shop.

And I think I judge a book by its cover pretty well. We all know where this is going.

I tilt my head to the side, fighting an urge to laugh at their rather embarrassing behaviour. Honestly, I don't understand people who have so much confidence to go up to a random stranger and just start insulting them like it's cool. I don't even know these girls –never met their day in my life –and suddenly they're blurting a whole lot of garbage at me for God knows what reason.

"Is there something else you girls needed or...?" I point out, trailing off as I await an answer.

See, this is why I can't talk to the general public. Making conversation is the worst, and for some odd reason, I'm trying to be nice to the obvious bullying class. Who even does that? Most people would take a hint when someone is nasty to them – and I don't even know why I said what I said.

"Ugh. You're so weird," the brunette leader speaks up again, her button nose crinkled in revulsion.

"Totes," her other friend agrees with a nod.

The third of the trio and the tallest of the three. Perhaps it's just her really, really high heel or maybe it's just her long, lean legs that give her such a height. Her skin is white as a sheet, and her hair is a pale blonde that matches her complexion. It falls to her shoulders in ringlets, and I can't help but wonder ...

Why the hell are they dressed so poorly? Honestly, how aren't they freezing in their tank tops and shorts? The wind could pick up at any time with this weather, and poof! The mini skirt shows all.

"You need to stay away from Nash," the leader literally orders me.

Like, I'll actually listen. Like, I care a damn what they're saying.

"And why is that?" I pout, internally rolling my eyes at their petty remarks.

"Nash is the hottest racer here. He cannot be seen with the likes of you," the blonde says distastefully. "Imagine what people would think if they caught y'all together – it's so embarrassing for him. Only Alvita can be with him."

So the leader's name is Alvita, then? Good to know for future reference.

"Do I look like I care what people think?" I ask when she's done, my face contorting in annoyance and slight wickedness. "No, I don't. So you might as well go pester someone else. Someone who actually cares about your opinion."

My lips crook at the girl's stunned expressions, and I can't help but grin. They flip their hair and strut away. The fuck? Is this a lame Hallmark high school movie?

"So you do have a voice then."

I spin around, coming face to face with Jake and Clarissa. Any words that wanted to escape my lips died on my tongue at the sight of the two. It's uncomfortable for me to see my classmates discover what I can really be like outside school. It makes me feel – insecure. Like my double life has been revealed or something.

"I uh ..." I scratch the back of my neck, looking between the golden couple at a loss for words.

"And you're finally here," Nash's voice speaks up next and a second later he's standing beside me.

Thank goodness. I had no idea what to say to what they just witnessed.

"Were those girls troubling you?" Clarissa asks me, stepping closer as she voices her concern.

"Nah, I'm good," I wave it off.

"Well, now that you're finally here," Nash looks at Jake pointedly. "We have a race to get to."

His best friend throws an arm around his shoulders. "Wish us luck, girls!"

"You're good?" Nash asks me quietly, his fingers brushing my hand.

I nod. "I'm fine. I promise."

"Don't worry, I'll look out for her," Clarissa winks and gives Jake a quick kiss. "Show 'em what you're made of, babe."

Jake grins as he leads Nash away, towards the file of cars assembling at the starting line. I watch as Jake animatedly waves his arms, chuckling as he talks loudly and jostles Nash's shoulders in a friendly manner. The latter simply shakes his head, his arms crossed.

Metaphorically I'd say that Nash crosses arms as a protective barrier. A wall to hold people out.

"We should find a spot in the front," Clarissa states striding next to me as she spares a single glance. "You're watching the race, right?"

Her words seem to snap me out of my thoughts. "Oh yeah. Where do we go?"

Clarissa motions with her head, a few metres off from where we're standing. It's close to the streets, spacing between two huddled groups of people cheering for the ongoing race. We find a spot where the music is receded and not so many people are drinking. I never saw the appeal for alcohol, so seeing all these people wasted and singing completely off chorus makes me stay even further away.

"You know, it came to me as a surprise that the boys were willing to bring you here," Clarissa speaks after a beat, gazing at the ground as we walk. "Don't get me wrong, it is a welcoming surprise. It's just a little ... odd."

"How's that so?" I frown in response as we stop. "I mean, didn't they invite you too?"

I'd actually been wondering that for some time now, come to think of it. I mean, I know Jake is going out with Clarissa, but I would've never expected him to take her to this street racing rendezvous. The only reason I earned a golden ticket here is for finding Jake that fateful night.

Clarissa starts laughing at my question, earning a look of confusion.

"No, my older brother races here – that's how I know about this place," she explains, then as an afterthought, she lifts one shoulder and adds. "That's also how I met Jake, and we started hanging out."

My lips tip at her short story. "Sounds romantic."

Clarissa laughs again, her eyes trailing off to the cars. Nash is in his seat, looking entirely in his element and hotter than ever, hand on the wheel, showcasing his jugular forearm and a slight grin on his face. From the window, two guys are speaking to him, probably giving some last-minute advice.

"It was actually. Most people assume we knew each other because of school and sports. The truth is way deeper than that though," Clarissa turns to me. "But that still doesn't explain how you got here, Carey. Do you have a sibling maybe an uncle ...?"

I hold up my hands. "No, not at all. I just helped them out the one day and now they owe me a favour."

"Oh, okay," Clarissa says slowly, contemplating my statement.

Before she can think too hard about my cryptic words, someone announces that the next race is starting. Instantly, a surge of adrenalin runs through my veins, spiking my pulse. I find a grin spilling on my face as I glance at Clarissa. Her face is bright, alive with energy, bubbling to the very brim.

"Here we go!" She proclaims excitedly.

It was time. Time to see exactly what this was all about. They say Nash Cooper is the best of his generation – well it was time to discover whether the rumours were true. Was he really that amazing? Were the whispers that ran through the crowds exaggerated? Was he underrated or overstated?

Or was he simply the best?

My gaze finds his dark car revving, smoke trailing from the exhaust. The sound of engines sparking to life makes my nerves jump and my body tingles. The lights flicker on, blinding yellow fluorescent and brighten the road. I bite my lip in anticipation of what awaits.

This was it.