Page 180 of Repairing the Wreckage

“Not really, and when I did, I was constantly worried some asshole would grab a picture.”

And yet, he still came to visit me at school.

“So, making out with me at your welcome back party is how you want to celebrate?”

His lips tilt into the slow, cocky grin I usually can’t resist. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“One fight with Remy this month wasn’t enough for you?”

He touches his cheek, gently probing the bruised skin. “Yeah, I can’t do that again. Glad we finally got it out of the way.” He taps his forehead. “I need to be laser focused from now on.”

“Me too. Finals are coming up and I’m freaking out a little.”

His eyebrows draw down. “Is coming home on the weekends messing with your study time?”

Probably. But I don’t want to say that.

“Be honest,” Griff warns.

He knows me too well.

“It’s loud in the dorms on the weekends. But Sundays, I should probably spend more time in the library.”

“If it’s that bad on the weekends, why don’t you let me rent you a hotel room? You could go there and study.”

Is he out of his mind? “I don’t want to waste money on that.”

“If it helps, you get some work done, then it’s not a waste.”

“I can study at home too.” I poke him in the chest. “I just like spending time with you more.”

“And I enjoy spending time with you too.” He pulls an exaggerated sad face. “But you know how mad I’ll be if you don’t get an A in all of your classes because of me?”

“A’s in everything is a bit optimistic, but I know what you mean.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a man approaching our booth. He stands quietly with his hands folded in front of him like a soldier—if soldiers wore all black and had throat tattoos.

Griff jerks his head to the side, noticing the guy. “Hang on a sec, Muffin.” Griff stands to talk to the dark-haired, dark-eyed man who seems vaguely familiar. Their conversation’s too low to hear over the other noise, but when Griff moves sideways, I recognize him from Zips. Black Mercedes Guy. He races often and frequently loses. Eraser told my brother to keep his eye on this guy at some point. But now he and Griff seem to be pals?

“Is this the girlfriend?” BMG says to Griff.

Griff hesitates, then curls his fingers, motioning me closer. I slide out of the booth, happy I wore jeans instead of a dress since I’ve gotten in and out of this booth at least fifty times tonight, and stand next to Griff.

“Quill, this is my girlfriend, Molly. Molly, this is Quill. He loaned me the Mercedes for your prom.”

“Ah.” Quill wags a finger in the air. “I didn’t loan it. You won it,” he says in one of the smoothest voices I’ve ever heard.

Griff nods and ducks his head. “True.”

“Borrowed or won, it was still really nice. Thank you so much,” I say.

“Not a problem.” He dips his chin. “Nice to meet you, Molly.”

Quill slaps Griff’s shoulder, then turns and melts into the party.

“He seems nice,” I say, then lower my voice. “But isn’t he the guy Eraser wanted you guys to watch at the track?”

Griff nods for me to sit in the booth again. “You don’t miss anything, huh?”

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