The tow truck finally rolled up, headlights low against the settling dusk. A gust of warm air swept through the street, carrying with it the faint scent of oil and dry pavement. Elena stepped back as the Civic was hoisted onto the flatbed, Naomi already long gone in her friend's SUV.
Alexander was quiet, arms folded across his chest, watching the process like a mechanic watching a surgeon. Calm, detached. But attentive.
When it was done, the driver gave Alexander a nod. "Diego'll have it by morning."
"Thanks," he said simply, then turned to Elena. "Need a ride somewhere?"
She hesitated—not because she didn't want to—but because something about him made her more self-aware than usual. Not shy. Just… careful.
"To campus, if that's alright. My dorm's near East Hall."
He nodded once. "Hop in."
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
She slid into the passenger seat of the Subaru.
Immediately, the difference hit her.
The car was clean but clearly lived-in—smelled faintly like leather, pine air freshener, and engine grease. The interior was stripped and modded, dashboard custom-wrapped in matte carbon fiber, short shifter gleaming like it had just been installed. The engine rumbled with a low, guttural purr—controlled but potent. The kind of sound you only got from a tuned exhaust.
Her eyes moved slowly across the cabin.
This wasn't a typical college beater car.
She glanced over at him as he adjusted the mirrors. "So… this thing is yours?"
Alexander let out a soft grunt of amusement, backing out of the street. "Yeah. My beater."
She blinked. "Beater? This thing sounds like it could outrun a helicopter."
He shrugged. "Was cheap. High miles, some issues when I got it. Fixed everything myself. Now it's reliable enough for daily stuff."
She looked at him again, brow raised. "This is what you call 'reliable enough'? Are you serious?"
"Mmhm," he said, eyes on the road. "The real car stays in the garage."
Her curiosity sparked. "Wait. You've got another car?"
"Yeah."
"…What kind?"
He paused for a breath, like debating whether to say it. Then:
"2023 BMW M5. Comp package. Got it at auction through a friend. Wholesale price was stupid low."
Elena blinked. "You're kidding."
"Nope."
"You're twenty."
"Technically, yeah."
"Who are you?" she asked, only half joking.
He glanced at her briefly, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gear lever. "Just someone who hates owing money. I work a lot. Fix a lot. Buy smart. That's it."
Elena leaned back in her seat, absorbing it.
She knew guys who talked cars. Bragged about their dad's Mustang or flexed a leased Challenger like it was a Ferrari. But Alexander didn't flex. He just stated facts. Like someone who didn't need to convince anyone of anything.
That was new.
And weirdly attractive.
But not in the crush sense. More like… respect.
Still, she found herself studying him sideways as they idled at a red light. The way his jaw shifted slightly when he thought. The way his hands—calloused, steady—rested naturally on the wheel, like they belonged there. He didn't posture. Didn't fill silences with noise.
He was just… comfortable. Unbothered.
And she didn't realize how rare that was until she saw it up close.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
Alexander could feel her looking at him.
Not in the flirty, attention-seeking way he was used to from people who found the WRX interesting. It was quieter. Curious. Like she was trying to piece him together without all the right tools yet.
He didn't mind.
In fact, he kind of liked it.
She hadn't brought up the party. Or the porch. Or that quiet breakdown in the dark. But her presence tonight felt… different. She wasn't performing. No rehearsed charm. No sparkling small talk. She was real. And that alone made him more willing to speak.
"She run alright before it stalled?" he asked suddenly.
She blinked out of her thoughts. "Yeah. Naomi's Civic was always a little janky, but it held up 'til now."
"Could be a simple swap. If Diego has the part, she might have it back in two days."
She smiled faintly. "You really know your stuff, huh?"
He gave a low chuckle. "Spent half my teenage years under a car. Not much else to do when you live in a dead town and hate being indoors."
Elena tilted her head. "So you didn't grow up here?"
"Nah. Central Florida. One gas station. Three churches. And nothing but heat."
"Sounds charming."
He smirked, just barely. "You get used to boredom."
She looked out the window, letting that sit. There was a quiet intimacy to their conversation now. Not deep yet—but present. Like each line was a careful knock on a wall neither of them was ready to tear down fully.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
He pulled into the campus loop road and slowed near East Hall.
"You can stop here," she said, gesturing toward the curb.
He did.
Neither of them moved for a second.
Then Elena unbuckled. "Thanks for the ride."
He nodded. "Anytime."
She hesitated—fingers on the door handle. "Seriously. Not just the ride. For showing up. Twice now."
He looked at her, really looked. "You don't owe me for that."
"I know," she said quietly. "That's why it matters."
A beat passed.
Then she stepped out, shutting the door gently.
He didn't drive away immediately.
And she didn't walk straight into the dorm.
She turned back for just a second. Met his eyes through the windshield.
Neither of them smiled.
But somehow… that said more.