TAMING THE ALPHA STREET RACER

“Dick. In. Her. Throat,” Tamara says, flinging open the door to my dorm room like she has a personal beef with it. “You caught him with his whole dick down that bitch’s esophagus and you’re in here crying like it’s your fault?”

I blink up at her from my bed, mascara smudged, my eyes burning. Novo Amor is playing on low volume from my speaker.

Tamara narrows her eyes at me, kicks the door shut with the back of her Mary-Jane boots. Her hair is platinum and clipped up in a messy claw. She’s wearing a cropped tee that says “Men Are Parasites” in blood-drip font and a pleated mini so short I'm sure I can see her thong if she turns around just enough for me to take a peek.

Tamara Leigh is my best friend—practically the only girl I've opened up to since middle school. There was so much difference between us that people usually wonder how we worked as friends. While I was the quiet one who could never dare enough to do anything, Tamara could take a dare to slap the devil and actually go to hell to do it.

Two hours ago, I'd called her because I'd walked into my boyfriend—now ex's—room and found him with his tongue down a girl's esophagus for the fourth time in our relationship. Now, she’s here, and she looks like she's about to send Noah to hell.

There’s glitter on her collarbones, bruises on her knees, and she looks like she’s about to murder me for crying over a man. It’s a look I’ve known since freshman year of high school back in Seattle—the one right before she does something monumentally stupid and exciting.

Tamara’s never met a line she wouldn't cross; I’ve never met one I didn't immediately shrink back from.

She scoffs. “You’re actually playing this song? Jesus Christ, Riv. You’re mourning a boy with halitosis?”

I sniff, dragging the sleeves of my hoodie over my hands. “It wasn’t like that... It was just one time. He said he was—”

“—drunk. Heartbroken. Misunderstood. Allergic to condoms. I’ve heard it all.” She cuts me off and yanks open my curtain. It's pitch black outside. I hadn’t even realized it was night. “The man’s breath could strip paint off a fender and you let him put his tongue down your throat for six months? I should beat your ass.”

I laugh, a pathetic, breathy thing. “You’re so dramatic.”

“No. I’m so serious.” She stalks over, grabs my phone, and shuts the music off. “Riv, I love you, but this is pathetic. He cheated. You cried. That’s step one. Step two is revenge.”

I sit up, rubbing my eyes. “What kind of revenge?”

Tamara grins like a Cheshire cat. “I’m thinking… keys and permanent markers? Come on. We’re going downtown. There’s a race happening. Half the campus is gonna be there. And your ex’s car is parked right outside. I saw it when I was coming up.”

I sit up