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Damn shame too. She’s one of the good ones. She doesn’t deserve a piece of shit like Charlie.

I shake myself out of my memories. I need to pay attention since Clara asked me to lead the art team. I need to know what’s going on if I’m going to lead these people in this effort.

We talk about the game plan. The art of choice for this is graffiti, and of course, no one has any experience with that except me. I’ll have to give Trevor and Clara some lessons before we start, since they’ll be helping me with the art. Neither of them knows anything about engines.

I agree to come up with a design that fits our school’s mascot—Home of the Eagles.

Then the conversation shifts to driving and who’s going to do it.

“Chase, are you sure you don’t want to drive on race day?” Clara asks.

He shakes his head. “I’m not much of a driver. I build cars. I don’t race them.”

“But you know how to drive?” I ask with a little too much sass. I don’t know why I’m irritated with him, but I am.

He stares at me with raised brows. “Um, yeah. But driving is not the same thing as racing. It’s a different skill. Since we have room to add more team members, Mac can do it. He already said he would.”

“Isn’t that an unfair advantage to the other teams?” I ask with a hard glare directed at him.

“How so?” Chase’s grin grows as he crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in his chair. His charm is blinding.

“Mac is a professional driver.” I growl. “Feels like cheating.”

“Oh, come on Grumps. What good is it to have connections if we don’t use them?”

My eyes widen and he flinches. “What did you just call me?”

“Nothing. Let’s get back to planning.” He turns his attention to Clara. “There’s nothing in the rules that limits Mac from driving, right?”

Clara shakes her head. “We’re good. If everyone is okay with it, let’s go with Mac.”

I stare at Chase, unable to get his words out of my head. He called me Grumps. No one has ever called me Grumps before.

Except … That means either the man sitting across from me is really Christian—which I highly doubt—or I didn’t go out on a date with Christian.

I went out with Chase.

* * *

My participation in the meeting stops. I don’t even hear anything else they discuss. Instead, I study Chase’s every move, action, and expression. His mannerisms and expressions match those of the man I went out with.

There’s a chance that Chase and Christian share all the same mannerisms, but I doubt it. I may not know them well, but I grew up with them. They’ve always been opposites in everything.

Maybe Christian told Chase about the nickname he gave me, but I doubt that too.

My instincts tell me the man sitting across from me is the man I went out on a date with, and he is, in fact, Chase Mutter.

I always trust my instincts, and they are screaming at me.

Chase lied to me.

Unable to sit here and hold in my anger a moment longer, I push to my feet and rush out.

Clara calls after me, but she doesn’t follow. I’m almost to my car when I feel a hand wrap around my wrist. I jerk it free and whip around. Chase is right behind me with a look that can only be described as fear on his face.

“Lina, please.”

“It was you!” I yell. “All this time, and it was you.”

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