Page 237 of Filthy Elites

Maybe I can apply for another credit card.

I feel sick.

“Aubrey.”

His voice calls my attention back to him, but I don’t have it in me to hide my distress. “That I’m fucked.”

“How much?”

“Like $800.”

“That’s not so bad.”

“Maybe not to you.” I shake my head, turning to look out the window so he doesn’t see tears gathering in my eyes.

If I blow all this money on tires, how the hell am I going to pay the mortgage next month? Even if I pick up a ton of extra shifts I can’t make enough, and that’s not even factoring in bills, groceries, gas, credit card payments.

Fuck.

“She’s paying for those tires,” I say suddenly, shaking my head. “I found her fingernail. I know it was Anae. If she doesn’t pay for it, I’m going to the police.”

“Why don’t you let me take care of it?” he suggests.

I look over at him. “What?”

“I’ll buy you new tires.”

My stomach hollows out. “Why?”

He shrugs, looking ahead with one hand on the wheel as he drives. “Money is obviously an issue for you. For me, it isn’t. Leave your keys with me, I’ll have it taken care of today.”

I can’t believe he’s being so nice. I can’t take him up on it, though… right? “Are you doing this for me, or for her?”

“Does it matter?” he asks, meeting my gaze.

It shouldn’t even be a question. I mean, he’s her boyfriend, so he should be doing it for her.

But I don’t trust him. He doesn’t strike me as a great boyfriend, and he’s not known for doing nice things without at least having ulterior motives.

“Just answer the question.”

He takes his time answering. Dare doesn’t like when people demand things of him, I know that much. I almost bite my tongue thinking maybe I should just shut up and let him do it. I can’t afford to pay the bill myself, so who cares why he’s doing it?

But I can’t help it. I care. I want to know.

“For you,” he finally says.

My spine stiffens. That’s the right answer, but the wrong one, too. “Why? We’re not even friends. Why do you keep doing things for me?”

I feel his eyes on me. “Maybe I want to be your friend.”

My lips curve up faintly. “I don’t believe you.”

“Why?”

I look over at him. “Because everyone knows you’re a liar.”

“Yeah?” There’s an edge to his tone, despite how casually he says it.

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