This was a mistake. A huge fucking mistake.

Every bone in Easton’s body was screaming for him to get the fuck out of here, yet his feet kept moving.

In the small town of Folewood, there was a long railroad that split the town in half. Metaphorically and literally. On the north side of the tracks sat the preppy rich group. The north kids had perfectly measured and mowed lawns, neighbourhoods that were seen in movies, and top-of-the-line everything. Daddy’s money ran deep, especially for Easton Hearst – whose father was the mayor of this shit town.

On the south side, however, sat the dirtbag group. The south kids lived in trailer parks and had street fights with rivaling gangs. No outsider could walk alone, half of the people in the south couldn’t walk alone either. It was just a bunch of kids with daddy issues and addiction genes. You were no different from the rest of them.

Easton tried to force himself to turn around, his car could take another week without service, right? Probably not, but it beat this. The mechanic shop in the north side was notorious for being the best, but the slowest. While the south was mediocre at best, but insanely fast. Easton needed his car fixed fast and he needed it now.

He glanced around the shop, it was only mid-afternoon and the summer heat was unbearable, but barely anyone was there. Most teens were either running around the city or lounging by the pools, all except for one.

You were lying on your back on a creeper, busy tinkering underneath one of the cars. He couldn’t tell what the hell you were doing – he never was good with cars – but if he was dying in this heat, he couldn’t imagine how hot underneath a car would be.

“Excuse me?” He cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair.