Andrew was on high alert, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop in time, and we ended up rear-ending the car.
The black sports car's door swung open, and the driver and passenger stepped out.
I couldn’t really make out the guy’s face, but the woman in the passenger seat?
I recognized her instantly.
It was Lyla Quinn, my high school classmate, who I’d been thinking about. As I left the car, I saw her approach the guy and link her arm with his.
My stomach sank.
It was a strange, uncomfortable feeling like I was suddenly out of place.
But, despite it all, I got out.
Andrew didn’t want me to, and honestly, this wasn’t exactly the kind of situation where stepping out was the best move.
In his words, the smartest thing would’ve been to hit the gas, crash into them, and let the cops handle it.
But I needed to know...
'What was Lyla up to?'
I might not always be the best with words, but I wasn’t stupid. I could tell the black sports car had intentionally cut me off, probably trying to cause trouble.
And with Lyla in the car, all cozy with this guy, it didn’t take much to see this was all about me. So, I stepped out of the vehicle. As soon as I did, Andrew followed close behind me, his hand subtly sliding toward his gun.
“It’s probably just some rich kid messing with a poor guy. Don’t stress about it,” he said, trying to downplay the situation.
I chuckled and walked toward Lyla, now only a few steps away.
She pressed closer to the guy when she saw me, practically hanging off him.
He stepped forward, too, like we were in some kind of sick show.
Lyla, still snuggled up with him, sneered and said, “Luke, your parents are really shameless! Their son’s driving a cheap domestic car, and they still set me up with you?”
I clenched my fists but forced myself to stay calm.
I locked eyes with her and said, “If you think I’m not good enough, you could’ve just said no. Why drag me out a few times, invite me today, and then pull this stunt?”
“Just bored, wanted to mess with you. What’s the big deal?” she laughed.
Then, she glanced at my car and added, “Sometimes, I have to admire you poor folks. You try to show off but fail miserably. You get a cheap domestic car and even hire a driver. Pathetic.”
It felt like a slap in the face.
It wasn’t even about the car. It was the fact that just a few minutes ago, I’d been telling Andrew how great Lyla was.
Now, she was showing her true colors, looking down at me.
I get it—people like that are everywhere, and I shouldn’t let it get to me.
But to call my Prestige Elite, a symbol of national pride, a “cheap domestic car”?
That was next-level arrogance.
It honestly took me off guard. 'Why did I even like her?'
Like Andrew said, maybe I didn’t meet many women, or perhaps I was holding out for too long and got desperate.
I smiled, forced myself to stay cool, and said, “Well, since you’ve already gotten what you wanted, I guess we’re done, right? So, can I go now?”
“Leave?” Lyla laughed, almost enjoying it. “Do you not get it? You rear-ended me, so now you have to pay for the damages.”
'Still want to keep playing this game?' I smirked inwardly.
I’d been trying to stay low-key, but sometimes, I just needed to vent. But after thinking it through, I realized it wasn’t worth it.
The place I work at is too secretive.
Getting time off was already a risk, and I didn’t want my actions to cause trouble for the people who had been good to me.
“Alright, I’ll pay for it,” I sighed.
