Test Drive (Campus Drivers #2)

Chapter 1 Lewis

As we pull onto campus, I stifle a sigh of relief. This trip is killing me—I can feel my neurons shriveling up, and I’m pretty sure I look like death.

I cut the engine. Fucking finally. A mile more and I’d be crawling out of my Dodge on my hands and knees.

“Glad to be of service, ma’am,” I say brightly.

The girl arches an eyebrow. “That was fast.”

Was it?

It makes sense, though. She spent the entire ride giggling at every single goddamn thing her boyfriend said—rubbing her nose against his, melting into his arms. That kind of thing. I must’ve dry-heaved at least three times. I kept things pro, though.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“Any time! You guys are cute together.”

“That’s so sweet of you!” The girl’s eyes are shining. “We’ll be sure to hit you up next time we need a driver.”

“You betcha.”

Man, the shit you gotta do to make a living…

I hop out and scan the scene. The other drivers are hanging out by their cars: Lane and Adam laughing over one of their phones; Donovan grinning as I make my way over to the gang.

“What happened, man? Looking pretty green, there.” He laughs. “Let me guess… Passenger puke on your seats?”

“Nope, but I nearly did. What’s up with all the couples around here recently? Absolute disgrace, dude.” I shake my head. “It’s bad enough I have to put up with your girlfriends…”

“What can I say? You’re the last man standing.” Adam fist-bumps me.

“ ‘I’m a survivor, I’m not gon’ give up!’ ” I sing, absolutely butchering the Destiny’s Child song.

Seriously, though—talk about a lone knight. I’m basically an endangered species, what with the whole Lois Lane thing, and then the Wolinski power couple situation… Sycamore Heights is cursed.

I would’ve bet money on Donovan staying the same old fangirl magnet he’s always been, but then he went and fell in love with Wolinski 2.

0—a romance binge-reader with a mean streak.

Adam left me hanging, too. He’s hooking up with Don’s little sister and didn’t even get his ass kicked for it.

Adam is Adam, though, I reason. Everyone loves him, and I don’t really want my best friends falling out—especially not over a girl.

Their girlfriends are cool and all, but I don’t get why they need to rush into relationships so fast—to me, it just feels like a whole lot of crap to deal with. Too much explaining, too much effort.

Relationships take up valuable headspace, and considering I hardly get a second to myself these days, I can’t imagine adding a girl into the mix.

The idea is enough to give me a nosebleed.

There’s the Campus Drivers, the finals, and the NBA Draft just around the corner, which means girlfriend stuff’s definitively off the table.

My approach is to just stay focused on my goals and go for an easy hookup when I need one.

I run through the head count and frown.

“Hey, where are the girls?”

“Amelia went back to DC,” says Adam.

Lane pipes up. “Lois and Carrie are on their way.”

I lean against Don’s hood and peer at the thing he’s turning around in his hand.

“What the hell is that?”

He holds it up for us to see. “A sleep shirt for Carrie!”

“Wow. A sleep shirt, huh?” I drawl.

“Check out the back, though.”

Don flips it around to show us the letters on the other side—WOLINSKI—and pumps his fist in the air. “Boom, baby!”

Donny has officially left the building. RIP, man.

“This has gotta be enough to snag me the trophy.”

“The trophy?” Lane frowns. “The hell you talking about? Don’t tell me this has something to do with your bullshit thing with Carrie. Like, ‘who’s the better partner?’ ”

Don nods. “It does. I made a winner’s trophy thing, and I’ve won it twice now. I’m dominating this.”

I roll my eyes. “Absolute disgrace, dude. Why don’t you just focus on your game? This is such a time suck.”

“You’re a time suck, Lewis Conley. I am focused on my game, and anyway… Every second with Wolinski 2.0 feels amazing. Just wait till you’re all grown up. Then maybe you’ll get it.”

“When that day comes, I’m getting front-row tickets.” Adam snorts.

“Shut up, traitor! Never going to happen.” I spot Lois and Carrie wandering over to join us, and I wave. “Hey, Loiiis!”

She curls her lip at me, but I know that, deep down, she loves it.

“How’s it going, honeys?” I croon.

Lois just about cracks a smile before she lunges for Lane, and Carrie gives me something vaguely like a half wave. I grab her wrist.

“What even was that? Come say hi properly!”

I fold her into my arms, pressing her to my chest and mussing up her bun. Don’s right—the girl has amazing hair.

“Don!” she squeals. “Help a girl out!”

He laughs but doesn’t budge, and I decide to let her go before she knees me in the balls.

Carrie smooths down her hair, scowling. “How come Lois doesn’t get trolled like that?”

Lois looks panicked. “Hey, you leave me out of it!”

I shrug. “Me and Lois are already Super Buddies. Me and you, though, it’s early days in what looks set to be the start of a beautiful friendship. The game plan is to slowly wear you down with compliments and hugs.”

“What did I do to deserve this?”

Don beckons her over. “Girlfriend needed in aisle four.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” She rummages in her bag, shooting him a grin. “I’ve got the trophy!” she singsongs, holding it up in the air. “So, I think the phrase you’re looking for is—‘best girlfriend ever needed in aisle four.’ ”

“That trophy’s coming home where it belongs.” Don smiles smugly. “I’ve got something for you.”

“Wait a minute…” I narrow my eyes. “Is that… a milk carton? With eyes and a mouth and everything? And a dumbass cape?”

“Yeah.” Don holds it closer. “I even added a ‘W.’ See?”

“Oh hell no!” Lois shakes her head. “We’re Lois Lane. Capes are our thing.”

“Just give me my goddamn gift!” Carrie calls out.

Donovan winks at her, slowly bringing his hands around from behind him.

“It’s a sleep shirt!” He beams. “A Wolinski special.”

My gaze flits between them. Shit. These guys just hit rock bottom.

Don smirks. “Ready to admit defeat?”

Lois elbows her friend. “Not a fair trade. The trophy for a T-shirt? Seriously?”

“I do love sleep shirts, though,” Carrie muses.

“And there’s more.” Don turns back to his car and leans into the passenger seat.

“Oh my God! Matching socks?” Carrie’s hands go flying to her cheeks. “Okay, you win!”

This is out of fucking control.

I duck as the milk carton goes flying from Carrie to Donovan, its cape streaming in the air.

Milk’s a pretty good image for how I see relationships—something that quickly sours.

“I’m outta here,” I say. “You guys are officially insane. I have no idea whether this is normal or what, but… I’m getting way too much information right now.” I gesture back and forth between them. “This love thing? It’s sick. Absolute disgrace, dudes.”

I stride over to the bench across the path, desperate to put a little space between us, ignoring Lane’s gaze as he pulls Lois into him.

“You keep on trucking, Lewis,” he says, wrapping his arms around her waist. “But I’m telling you—one day, you’re gonna fall hard on your ass for some girl.”

Lois gazes up at him, misty-eyed. “My boyfriend, the poet.”

He plants a butterfly kiss on her nose and looks back at me again.

Urgh. Just leave me alone!

“And when that day comes, we’ll be there with you. Watching. Waiting.”

“Kinda like right now, huh?” I mutter.

Lane winks. “Kinda. But way worse.”

“Way worse!” the group chimes as one.

“I call bullshit.” I sigh. “And anyway, we’ll have graduated by then. So you can stop creaming your pants over me. If everything goes according to plan, you’ll find me on some beach somewhere, with a babe on each arm, kicking back between Heat games because I’ll be the Miami captain.”

“And that’s not sick at all.” Carrie rolls her eyes.

Lane wiggles his eyebrows. “Speaking of graduating… You talk to Firebird yet?”

Here we go again.

“Why are you so obsessed, dude?”

Firebird is our nickname for a girl we’ve seen driving around in… a Firebird. Yeah, we’re creative like that. The guys are thinking they want to hire her as part of next year’s Campus Drivers team—the crew that’ll be taking over from us old dogs.

This is our senior year, and I know it’s time to let go and share the love, but I’m finding it triggering.

I’m not ready to go headhunting. Not just yet.

These past few years have been the best years of my life, and it feels like I’m abandoning a tiny little baby to a cohort of new parents.

They’ll never love the app the way we do.

How could they? We started it from scratch.

I turn my attention back to Lane. “Did I talk to Firebird yet? Negative.”

“Oh, man…” He shakes his head. “You get we have, like, only a semester to find and train up the new guys, right?”

“You talk to her, then.”

“I’m training Lois’s brother. He’s planning on coming up to Sycamore Heights every vacation.”

“Every vacation? Plenty of time to focus on Firebird,” I fire back.

“We agreed we would each mentor a newbie.”

“Correction—you guys agreed. I don’t remember signing up to do a damn thing, and I have way too much going on, anyway.”

“Bullshit, Conley!” Don laughs, launching a second pebble at my head.

“We get it, you’re busy—so what? I’m super busy, too.

But this is important. If we figure this shit out, we could carry on making money from the app, passive income–style.

This is your chance to actually shape the future.

I know it’s not easy, but the more you drag your feet, the bigger the risk of this whole thing getting fucked up. ”

Fuck my life. The guy has a point.

Nobody’s easing up on this one, and I know I’ve been backed into a corner. But…

“A girl, though? For real? I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” I frown. “This isn’t, like, exactly a woman-friendly gig. Imagine she picks up some total asshat. It’s too risky. What happens at closing time, when she has to go pick up some drunk guy and he tries to make a move?”

“I hate myself for saying this, but he’s right,” Lois murmurs.

Carrie pretends to be shell-shocked. “Did Lewis just make a totally valid and reasonable point?”

“We could make it so she only ever picks up girls. Like a female-only night service,” Adam counters.

Lane claps his hands. “Problem solved! Now get your ass over there and go say hi. There she is now.”

“Where?” Lois and Carrie ask together.

I follow his gaze. The ride rolling past us now is unreal, and I have to admit, that car is one hell of a flex. From where I’m standing, the owner keeps it in pristine shape, too—red paint gleaming in the sunshine, engine a soft, powerful purr.

I hate my friends.

Lane waves at her before turning back to me. “Come on, buddy. Take a deep breath in, and go impress the girl.”

I flip him the finger, my eyes still locked on the Firebird as the engine falls quiet. It takes a solid two minutes before its owner slips out of the driver’s seat.

“Nice ass.” I nod approvingly.

Lois eyeballs me. “Glad to see you haven’t changed, Lewis.”

“How does she even drive in heels that high?” Carrie stands on her tiptoes, trying it out for size.

I tilt my head. “A seriously nice ass.”

“No screwing the recruits, Lewis.”

“Oh, come on, Donny. Think of it as return on investment.”

“When it comes to business, no fucking around.” Don frowns. “On second thought, maybe we should assign her to Adam.”

“Too late. For some reason, I’m suddenly feeling a hell of a lot more excited.”

That’s a lie—but it pisses him off, so it’s worth it.

I jump to my feet, pretending to adjust a nonexistent tie, and salute the gang before striding off across the parking lot.

This is no big deal. All I have to do is go over and say hey, then offer her the job, making sure I focus exclusively on the downsides.

Throw in one or two seedy jokes, and the job’s as good as done. I’ve got this.