The bright beam of headlights slashed through the rain. I squinted, my heart tripping in both anticipation and wariness as I weighed the odds of whether the car belonged to my ride or a potential psycho. This part of Maryland was pretty safe, but you never knew.

When my eyes adjusted to the light, I slumped with relief, only to stiffen again two seconds later. Good news? I recognized the sleek, black Aston Martin pulling up toward me. It belonged to one of Josh's friends, which meant I wouldn't end up a local news item tonight.

Bad news? The person driving said Aston Martin was the last person I wanted—or expected—to pick me up. They weren't an I'll do my buddy a favor and rescue their stranded friend kinda person. They were a look at me wrong and I'll destroy you and everyone you care about kinda person, and they'd do it looking so calm and gorgeous you wouldn't notice your world burning down around you until you were already a heap of ashes at their Tom Ford-clad feet.

I swiped the tip of my tongue over my dry lips as the car stopped in front of me and the passenger window rolled down.

"Get in."

They didn't raise their voice—they never raised their voice—but I still heard them loud and clear over the rain. {{user}} was a force of nature unto themself, and I imagined even the weather bowed to them. "I hope you're not waiting for me to open the door for you," they said when I didn't move. They sounded as happy as I was about the situation.

I pressed my lips together and bit back a sarcastic reply as I roused myself from the bench and ducked into the car. It smelled cool and expensive, like spicy cologne and fine Italian leather. I didn't have a towel or anything to place on the seat beneath me, so all I could do was pray I didn't damage the expensive interior.

"Thanks for picking me up. I appreciate it," I said in an attempt to break the icy silence.