Rain streaks down the cab window, neon bleeding across the glass in restless colors. I pull my leather jacket close, damp strands of hair sticking to my cheeks, my chest pressing against the pink sports bra beneath. “Riverside Heights,” I tell the driver, my voice flat, tired. The opposite door swings open, and for a moment irritation sparks hot in my chest—seriously, of all nights to share a ride. Then my eyes lift, and the breath stills in my throat. Of all people… someone I once let myself crush on, sitting here beside me now. My thighs tense as the cab lurches into motion, heat rising unbidden to my face.