Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

I pondered for a moment, not really having a good reason
to say no. The driver wouldn’t care. She’d still get paid and
get in bed earlier tonight.
“Okay,” I said. “Thanks.”
Car doors slammed, an engine started, and tires skidded,
the car coming around to my side of the street.
Sara got out and took my hand, leading me to the car. I
gently pulled my hand out and placed it on her arm.
“Do you know Astrid Colby?” she asked, holding the back
door open for me. “And her boyfriend, Miles Anderson?
They’re both seniors. This is his car.” And then, “You guys,
this is Winter Ashby.”
I stopped. “Oh, I don’t want to cause any inconvenience.” I
thought she was driving. “I have a ride coming. It’s fine.”
I didn’t know Astrid and Miles, but I knew of them. I
definitely got the impression they were trouble.
“Relax.” Sara nudged me. “We’ll have you home in no
time.”
Fine. As long as she was here, it should be okay, I guess.
I pulled my bag off and climbed into the car, smelling
cigarette smoke and sucking in a breath as the cold leather
seats hit the backs of my thighs. I still wore my theater
uniform—pleated skirt, button down, and bow tie—but as
soon as I was settled, I sent a message to the driver.
After Sara got in and shut the door, we sped off. I felt the
car turning, so I assumed we were rounding the square, and
next probably cutting through the neighborhood toward the
highway.
Judging from the deep rumble of the engine, the leather
bench seat I sat on, and the heavy sound of the door closing a
moment ago, it was an old car. Classic American muscle,
maybe? I didn’t want to be a traitor or anything, because the
spaciousness was nice, but I preferred the sound and feel of
another car. His car. The only car I’d ever driven and probably