Ethan Carter was busy. As always.
He was in the middle of the Engineering Quad, hunched over a sleek car model that glinted under the sun. His long, deft fingers worked meticulously, adjusting gears and fine-tuning the intricate mechanics.
It was a quiet afternoon, Ethan's favorite time of day when he could be alone with his precious car models. There were the occasional students; some were lounging and soaking up the sun, pretending to study in the grass. But their eyes were on Ethan.
This area was the famous "Ethan spot."
All his focus was on his work; his blue-gray eyes narrowed in concentration and his brow furrowed slightly. His brown hair, slightly long and often tousled by the wind, caressed his forehead. The onlookers had this itch to remove the hair out of the way, but Ethan didn't bother pushing it back. His lean, toned frame seemed completely still except for his hands, moving with the precision of an experienced craftsman.
Suddenly, a girl called out in a trembling voice, "Hi, Ethan!" She waved awkwardly as she walked by with her friends.
Ethan didn't acknowledge the girl. His focus was on the car model in front of him.
"Ethan, didn't you hear me?"The girl asked in a strained, embarrassed tone. Her lips quiver a bit, and her friends grabbed her to walk away.
Ethan glanced at her for a heartbeat and turned away, dismissing her. He heard her, alright. But did he have to respond to her? What was the point for pleasantries, small talk, and all the other social niceties that others seemed to care about? Anyone who wasn't part of his circle was irrelevant.
The girl wanted to say something again, but her friends dragged her away.
"He's so cold," one of the students commented in a hushed tone, casting a glance over her shoulder at Ethan.
"Yeah, but like, that's kind of hot, right?"Another chimed in, her voice conspiratorial. "He's got that whole mysterious, unattainable vibe. And those lips? Most kissable on campus, hands down."
Ethan sighed. What the hell? Who gave me that damn stupid title? It must be that stupid, George. Damn it.
His eyes flicked up briefly as he scanned his surroundings, not out of interest but out of habit. His gaze landed on the source of the interruption, and they quickly looked away. Satisfied that it was finally quiet, he resumed working.
But, as if the universe had a cruel sense of timing, Ethan's brief moment of peace crumbled because of the sound of approaching footsteps. He didn't even need to turn around to know who it was.
"Yo, Ethan! Still playing with your little toys, huh?" came George's familiar voice, the president of the student council and notorious campus playboy. Ethan glanced at his friend, and as usual, he looked like he walked out of a magazine.
The man was forever decked in designer from head to toe: patek philippe watch, Armani jeans, and customized shoes and shirts for the super rich.
Ethan suppressed a sigh. George was the distraction he didn't need right now.
The guy was laidback to the point of laziness. Women always surrounded him, fawning over his charm and devil-may-care attitude. His tousled dark hair made him look like he just rolled out of bed—probably because he just did. He grimaced, hoping that his friend didn't need his help because he fucked up.
How this guy managed to be at the top of his class was beyond him. George was breezing through his classes with minimal effort and still managed to ace everything.
Ethan ignored him, hoping his silence would make it clear to George that he had no time for his antics. But, as usual, George was completely oblivious to subtle cues.
"Come on, man, don't ignore me," George pleaded, plopping down on the grass next to Ethan, his grin as wide as ever. "I'm hurt. No 'hello' for your favorite council president?"
Ethan shot him a sideways glance. "What do you want, George?"
Before George could answer, Killian appeared, calling out. "Hey, you two. What are you guys talking about?"
Killian, the vice president of the student council, strolled to them with a relaxed smile. He was the opposite of George in almost every way. If George was the playboy, Killian was the epitome of a gentleman, boy-next-door-type, with short, neat hair and a smile that could charm even the "Terminator Professor" of the engineering department.
He had a girlfriend, which George never failed to tease him about, but Killian didn't care. He was head-over-heels in love, and he made it abundantly clear to anyone who knows him, meaning the entire university.
"George bothering you again, Ethan?" His hazel eyes twinkled with amusement as he settled down next to the former.
Ethan shrugged, his hands still busy with the car model. "When is he not?"
George let out a loud, exaggerated sigh. "You guys are killing me. I'm just trying to have a friendly chat, and this is the thanks I get?"
Killian chuckled. "You're trying to have a 'friendly chat' because you need something. We all know how you work, George."
George grinned, not even bothering to deny it. "Okay, fine, you got me. I do need something. But first, can we admire the fact that three different girls wave at me on the way over here? And I gave them all the perfect wink."
As if on cue, a couple of girls passed by, giggling as George flashed them a charming smile and the perfect wink. Ethan shivered in disgust as he looked at his best friend.
"See?" George said, leaning back on the grass with a self-satisfied smirk. "It's like magic."
Ethan rolled his eyes, finally setting down the wrench he'd been using. "You're insufferable."
George just laughed. "You love me."
"No, I tolerate you," Ethan corrected, wiping his hands on a rag. "Now, what do you want?"
George's grin widened, and he leaned forward slightly as if he were about to deliver some juicy gossip. "Okay, so you know Patrick from the basketball team, right?"
Ethan frowned. "Unfortunately."
George's eyes gleamed. "Yeah, well, he's coming to the race in two days. He has been trash-talking me all over campus. Says, I can't win a race to save my life."
Killian, who had been quietly listening, raised an eyebrow. "He's been saying that about you for months because you screwed his girlfriend."
"I know, right?" George reacted, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "It's like, dude, it's your fault you lack in that department. Like, get a new hobby. Anyway, I'm not about to let some basketball jock trash my skills, so here's the deal: I'm racing. Personally."
Ethan stared at him, unimpressed. "You? Racing? You haven't raced in months since that... incident with that girl."
George frowned but brushed off his statement. "I'm driving the bike myself. Gotta show Patrick who's boss."
Ethan crossed his arms. "And you want me to tune the bike for you."
George's grin spread even more. "Bingo. You're the best mechanic around, and if anyone can make sure I demolish Patrick, it's you."
Ethan sighed. "There's nothing wrong with the bike, George. The problem is your riding skills."
Killian let out a laugh, slapping George on the back. "He's got you there, man. Maybe you should spend less time winking at girls and more time practicing."
George shot Killian with a mock glare. "Ha ha, very funny. I'll let you know I've been practicing. And besides, I've got a plan."
Ethan raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "A plan?"
George's grin turned mischievous, like he was about to reveal some grand scheme. "Oh yeah. And trust me, it's going to work. I've got everything figured out."
Ethan exchanged a glance with Killian, who just shrugged. George's "plans" were usually half-baked at best, but they had a weird way of sometimes working out—mostly through sheer dumb luck. Or money.
Most likely the latter. George had it in spades.
"All I need from you, Ethan," George continued, "is to make sure the bike is in top condition. I win the race, I shut Patrick up for good, and we all celebrate afterward. Easy."
Ethan rubbed the bridge of his nose, already feeling a headache coming on. "Fine. I'll check the bike. But if you lose, it's not on me."
George clapped his hands together, looking way too pleased with himself. "Perfect! I could always count on you, man."
Killian, still chuckling, stood up and stretched. "Well, I guess we better get ready then. Are you sure you're up for this, George?"
George shot him a smug look. "Oh, I'm more than ready. Trust me, this is going to be a race to remember."
Ethan shook his head, already regretting it. But George and Killian were his friends—the closest friends he had as much as he allowed it. They had been through a lot.
"I'm going to teach Patrick a lesson he would never forget," George declared in a playful tone.
Ethan frowned, shaking his head. Poor Patrick, George got his sights on him.
George was the epitome of trouble, and Ethan didn't want to be at the receiving end of that.
Ever.