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Wentworth Wheels was emblazoned on the front of the building and inside several mechanics bustled around. They laughed and chatted loudly as they worked—trying to be heard above the sounds of their tools.
I stepped inside, inhaling the familiar scent of oil and rubber. Most people hated that smell, but I loved it. It brought back so many memories.
I craned my neck around, looking for familiar floppy brown hair, but he wasn’t to be seen.
And then, there he was.
He came out from the back office, wiping down a piece of metal with a red rag.
When he looked up he saw me and a grin that matched my own lit his face.
Barreling forward I ran into his arms.
He caught me immediately and spun me around.
“Dean,” I breathed against his neck, hugging him tight.
I’d missed him so much.
Dean Wentworth was my best friend.
We’d grown up together—his dad was the cousin of the guitar player in my dad’s band—and he was one of the few people I could turn to with anything. His parents might not have been famous, but they had a lot of money, so he could relate to many of the same things I went through. I was also close with his younger sister, Grace, but my connection to Dean was stronger.
Sometimes there were people that just got each other, and that’s how it was with us.
Setting me down he placed the piece of metal on a nearby worktable and tucked the rag in the back pocket of his jeans before crossing his arms over his chest.
“Willow Wade in the flesh.” He looked me up and down. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“It’s been a while,” I conceded.
I hadn’t seen Dean since New Year’s when I’d attended his family’s annual party. It was kind of a big deal and not to be missed.
I hadn’t talked to him much there because his girlfriend had been with him.
She was an insufferable bitch that I wanted to gag and toss over a bridge into a lake.
He could do so much better.
“How’s Brooklyn?” I sneered her name.
I’d tried to be nice to her when they first started dating last summer, but she made her distaste of me obvious—I was too loud, too crazy, and far too opinionated for her.
“Wouldn’t know. We broke up in February.”
I clucked my tongue. “You got her the wrong chocolate for Valentine’s day, didn’t you?”
He laughed fully at that. “Probably. We just weren’t a good match. She kept trying to hide my Pokémon cards and that wasn’t cool.”
By now the other mechanics were staring
at us with interest. I recognized a few of them and waved.
“Come on,” Dean nodded towards the open garage door, “let’s head up to the apartment to talk.”
“You’re not going to get in trouble are you?”
“I know the owner.” He winked, referring to his dad.
