The inside of the old Camaro smelled like asphalt and desire, gasoline and dreams.

There was something unbearably sexy about cars at night, Ronan thought. The way the fenders twisted the light and reflected the road, the way every driver became anonymous. The sight of them knocked his heartbeat askew.

There was no other sound in the world like a car crash.

It seemed a vehicle was well and truly dead once the stereo had melted.