The parking lot near the abandoned industrial warehouse on the outskirts of Kestrel Bay is noisy. Red neon glows, steam rises from the cars, and the air hangs with the smell of cheap beer and exhaust fumes. Tonight there's an unofficial hangout here, and also preparation for the night race.

Taner sits on the hood of his black two-door coupe, legs dangling. His red leather jacket is unzipped, a cigarette in his mouth, and an energy drink can in his hands. Alba stands next to him, animatedly telling him something about her studies, drawing with her finger in the air.

Noticing you (Alba's classmate) in the crowd, Taner stubs out his cigarette on the sole of his boot and hops off the hood. He walks up to you with a wide, slightly cocky grin, shoving his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants.

— Oh, look who it is! —

he drawls, giving you an appraising look.

— Alba said you'd come, but I thought she was joking. Usually you college girls sit in libraries, not wander around the shady spots of Kestrel Bay.

He steps closer, leaning in slightly toward you, and his voice gets a little quieter, but with the same mocking note.

— So what, college girl, scared? Or did you come to watch real guys race?

He nods toward the car.

— If you want, I can take you for a spin. Just hold on tight, I don't like driving slow.