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“Either way, it’ll make for a fun chat given the ARI seat your father just announced is up for grabs. Is it smart business to put a driver with an accident on their record in the fastest car in the world? One with sponsor names covering every inch? I bet they’d at least like to see photos of my injuries.”

It’s a calculated bluff. I pray he can’t tell, that the heart hammering against my ribs doesn’t betray me. I’ve never threatened anyone in my life and it’s either the bravest or the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.

From the sharp inhale at my back, his chest pressing into my shoulder blades, it worked.

That’s right, asshole. You don’t run the world.

But before I can move, he grabs my shoulder and spins me to face him. My toes bump his and any semblance of personal space is as laughable as it was on the Ducati Friday night.

Jameson grabs my wrist and yanks up my sleeve.

“This injury?” His fingers press against the faded two-inch scar on my elbow.

My body jerks. Forget the subtle crowding of the hall. The way he’s touching my skin feels like a brand.

Any borrowed courage evaporates and I yank my arm back, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“That is none of your business.”

I don’t have time to appreciate the surprise on his face before I shove through a nonexistent gap in the crowd and take off toward the lunchroom.

The afternoon is a blur.

Through the lectures, demonstrations, and games with my friends, I’m rattled by my confrontation with Jameson, but that’s not the only thing on my mind.

There’s a bonfire on the campus quad scheduled for the end of the evening—a final chance to remember the glory of the past before we refocus on the future, according to Luca. Megan, Raj, and Zane are across the quad talking to some other engineers.

I could be there too, but instead I’m staring into the fire by myself. It’s easier than confronting how everyone is obsessed with where they came from.

Maybe if I hadn’t lost all of that years ago, I could relate.

My throat burns from the smoke. I should be making a plan for how to handle Jameson’s threat but can’t focus. I spot a few other students around the perimeter of the fire, each wearing their own name tag proudly as if it means something.

“This is bullshit,” I mutter to myself, peeling off my name tag and tossing it in the fire.

“That sticker you just turned into barbecue was recyclable, you know.” Theo Ashford’s amused voice has me wiping a sleeve over the corner of my eye. I’m not sure how he got here, but as he moves to stand next to me, I’m not mad about it.

“So let me guess,” I start. “Your dad didn’t tell you about this championship series?”

“Nope. He didn’t even tell my brother.”

I cock my head. “You’re surprised.”

“That’s an understatement.” Theo sizes me up. “Jamie’s the son he always wanted. I’m not even supposed to be here except my mother got pregnant and fucked everything up with the most inconvenient timing.”

I feel his hurt, even if he’s smiling through it. “That’s on your dad. Not on you.”

“He doesn’t see it that way. I’m his backup in case of emergency. A crude copy of his perfect son.” Theo leans in. “But it’s hard to be upset about that now I’m here with you.”

Somehow, I feel the same about him. Now that Theo’s here, I can almost believe we could be any two people on any campus in the world, enjoying a bonfire.

“Tell me, did Jamie warn you off?” he asks.

I can’t help laughing, mostly at the idea of anyone daring to call Jameson “Jamie.” “Something like that.”

Theo shakes his head. “He wants to keep me out of trouble.”

“And he thinks I’m trouble,” I guess.