The brightly colored crowd of trust-fund punks snapped their heads up.
They saw the familiar supercar hurtling toward them like a streak of pink lightning.
"It's Anna's car!"
"Anna's here!"
The group of young men and women excitedly whistled at the incoming vehicle.
But as the pink supercar barreled straight toward them, it showed absolutely zero signs of slowing down.
"Anna! Are you crazy?"
"Jesus! Anna, what are you doing? Are you trying to kill us?"
Terrified by the suicidal speed, the crowd frantically scrambled backward.
But just as it practically brushed past one of them, the driver violently yanked the steering wheel.
Screech—
The tires let out an agonizing squeal against the pavement.
The car executed a breathtaking, flawless drift.
The chassis slid sideways, missing the last person by a fraction of an inch, and came to a dead stop right in front of the crowd.
The distance was razor-thin.
The entire venue plunged into dead silence.
A split second later, the crowd erupted into ecstatic, adrenaline-fueled screams.
"Holy shit! That was insane!"
"When did Anna get so good behind the wheel?!"
"Has she been practicing in secret? She better put on a hell of a show on the track tonight!"
The car door swung open.
The punks surged forward, eager to peek inside and see if Anna had brought their new toy.
But the first thing they saw was a long, slender leg stepping out, clad in crisp white sneakers.
The leg was remarkably long and perfectly proportioned.
And it clearly did not belong to Anna.
Following closely behind, a stunning Eastern girl stepped out of the vehicle, dressed in a simple white T-shirt and slacks, her dark hair pulled back into a messy high ponytail.
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