By the time Jack realized he’d lost his free ride, his brand-new electric guitar was locked in the trunk of a car he no longer owned, sitting in a greasy mechanic’s shop off a California freeway.

Forty minutes earlier, he’d been the king of the cafeteria.

“So you guys still down to rehearse at my place?” he asked, spinning his house key around his finger as if it were a VIP pass. The lunchroom at their Southern California high school buzzed around them—plastic trays, loud laughter, somebody’s phone blasting a pop song about heartbreak and money.

“Yes, sir,” said Marco, the drummer, tapping two pens on the table like drumsticks. “Is it cool if I bring Sara?”

“Yeah, Jel wants to come too,” added Noah, the bassist.

Jack smirked. “Fine by me. Bring all the cute girls you want. Afterward, maybe we can all go out.”

A pair of hands slid over his eyes from behind, nails painted a perfect pale pink.

“Guess who,” a voice sang in his ear.

Jack actually flinched. “Ow,” he said, then forced his face into something like delight as he turned. “Brandy—”

It wasn’t Brandy. It was Angela.

He corrected himself fast. “Angela. Hey, baby, I was totally kidding.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek, careful, quick. “I knew it was you.”

“You better be kidding,” she said, but there was a smile in her voice, the kind she saved just for him. Angela had that polished Beverly Hills look, even though they lived two cities over—designer backpack, smooth blowout, a gold bracelet that cost more than his first guitar.

“Jack, can I steal you for a second?” she asked. “I have a surprise for you.”

He glanced at the guys, then back at her. “What’s up? I was kind of busy talking about rehearsal.”

“It’ll be worth it.” She lifted her brows. “But it’ll cost you a kiss.”

“You know I don’t like PDA,” he murmured.

The guys snickered.

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” She dropped her hand but didn’t push it. She never did.

“What’s the surprise?” he asked, more interested in the shiny thing she might pull out of that bag than in the look on her face.

“You can get rid of that old guitar,” Angela said, eyes sparkling. “You don’t need it anymore.”

His brain short-circuited. “No way,” he said. “Are you serious? Don’t tell me—”

She pulled up a photo on her phone. The guitar sat in a glass case at the upscale music store downtown, the one he’d walked past three times just last week.

“The one you saw at the store?” Angela said. “I picked it up this morning.”

“Angela, baby,” he whispered, loud enough that half the table heard. “This is… I’m speechless. It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, lighting up at his reaction. “I can’t wait to see you rehearse with it tonight.”

His smile flickered. “About that…” He shifted his weight. “The guys were saying they wanted tonight to be a band-members-only session. We, uh… get more work done that way.”

Her face fell for just a second before she recovered. “Oh. Okay. That makes sense,” she said quickly. “I mean, yeah, totally. Just the band.”

“But we can hang out later this week,” Jack added, already distracted, already picturing himself onstage. “Just the two of us. Maybe drive down to Santa Monica or something.”

“I’d love that,” she said, the smile returning. “You are the best boyfriend ever, you know that?”

“Save that line for later,” he said, winking. “I gotta go to class. See you soon, okay?”

“Okay. Bye.” Angela waved at the guys. “Bye, everyone.”

As soon as she walked away, Marco leaned in. “Yo. That guitar is sick, dude. That must’ve cost a lot.”

“Benefits of dating a rich girl, my friend,” Jack said, spinning his fork in his mashed potatoes like it was a victory cigar.

“You are so lucky,” Noah said. “A girl who buys you everything you want? That’s like winning the lottery.”

“That’s exactly why I date her,” Jack said. “I call her my little piggy bank.”

The guys laughed. Only Marco’s smile wavered, just a little.

“Starting to wonder why you chose her, to be honest,” Noah said, leaning back. “There are other girls who’d line up for you now.”

“It’s just temporary,” Jack said, flicking a crumb off his shirt. “When the band blows up and we start getting paid, I won’t need her money anymore. Rockstars only date the hottest girls, am I right?”

He said it loud enough that the nearest table turned to look. He liked that.

A girl with lip gloss and a crop top sauntered by and tossed him a flirty glance.

“Hey, Jack,” she said. “If this is how you treat your girlfriend, I can only imagine how bad you’d be single.”

The guys cackled. Jack just grinned wider.

That afternoon, while the California sun baked the asphalt outside and a light breeze stirred the flags above the school, the band crammed into Jack’s garage. The new guitar gleamed under a flickering fluorescent strip, plugged into an amp that crackled whenever he hit a chord.

“Bro, it sounds incredible,” Marco said, pounding a drum fill.

“You better treat that thing better than you treat your girlfriend,” Jel joked, adjusting the strap of his bass.

Jack laughed, checking his hair in the reflection of the guitar’s polished body. “Relax. Angela’s fine. She’s loaded. I’m doing her a favor, giving her someone worthy to spend her money on.”

“Wow,” Marco said. “Cold.”

“This is L.A., man,” Jack replied. “Nobody makes it by being soft.”

His phone buzzed.

Jezelle: can I bring my cousin to rehearsal? she loves bands 😘

“Is it cool if I bring Saoirse tonight?” Marco asked.

“Jezelle wants to come too,” Noah added.

Jack shrugged. “Fine by me,” he said. “Bring all the cute girls you want.”

His world was a simple equation: attention plus ambition plus someone else’s credit card.

The next day at lunch, he slid a chair out for Angela like he was the world’s sweetest boyfriend.

“Hey there,” he said. “Sit with us.”

“Thanks, babe.” Angela smiled and set down her tray—salad, sparkling water, a little cup of fruit. “Hey, guys. How was rehearsal last night?”

“Oh, it was good,” Marco said carefully. “Real good.”

“Yeah,” Noah added. “Wish you could’ve been there.”

“Me too,” Angela said. “If you guys ever have a night where it’s not a band-only thing, I’d love to watch.”

Jack stabbed his pizza. “Yeah, we’ll see,” he said. “We need to stay focused if we’re gonna get into AFX Fest.”

“Oh my gosh, are you guys really trying to play there?” Angela’s eyes widened. She’d seen the posters: huge open-air stages outside San Francisco, major artists, crowds waving their arms like ocean waves. “That’s huge.”

“That’s the goal,” Jack said. “There’s supposed to be a ton of industry people there. Managers, A&R reps… If we play it right, could be our big break.”

“That sounds amazing,” she said. The idea of seeing him on that kind of stage made her chest flutter. “We should all go. It would be so fun to be there together.”

Jack froze for half a beat.

“Yeah, about that…” he said slowly. “Babe, you really don’t want to go to this. You’d be bored out of your mind.”

“What? Why?” she asked. “It’s a music festival.”

“Look at the lineup,” he said, pointing at Aidan’s flyer. Band names in jagged fonts ran down the page. “Can you name a single song by any of them?”

“No,” she admitted. “But who cares? I just want to go with my boyfriend.”

“True, but… it’s going to be another band-members-only thing,” he said. “We need to stay totally focused. No distractions. Not even the backup singers.”

“The backups?” she repeated. “You mean Jezelle and Stacy?”

Jack’s fork slipped. “Yeah,” he said quickly. “They’re our new backup singers. Just brought them on. They really… elevate the vocals.”

Angela blinked. “Oh. I didn’t realize they were in the band now.”

“Well, they are,” he said. “And we gotta treat AFX like work. But when we get back, you and I can take our own little trip. Napa, maybe. Wine country.”

“We’re eighteen,” she reminded him, a small laugh breaking through. “We can’t drink.”

“We’ll drink grape juice and pretend,” he said. “Point is, we’ll celebrate. Promise.”

“That sounds fun,” she said softly.

He leaned in, eyes suddenly earnest. “Actually, I do need to ask a huge favor.”

Lisa, sitting on Angela’s other side with her iced tea, looked up fast.

“What’s up?” Angela asked.

“Would you be able to help me pay for my ticket?” Jack asked. “Our tickets, actually. They go on sale tonight and none of us have the cash. But if we miss out, we miss our shot. It’s… kind of everything.”

Lisa nearly choked. “Hold on,” she said. “You want Angela to pay for all of your tickets?”

“We’re going to pay her back,” Jack said quickly, hands up. “It’s just like a short-term loan until we get our record deal. You believe in our music, right, babe?”

“Of course,” Angela said. “You guys are talented.”

“Then you know we’re good for it,” Jack said. “This is crucial, Angela. When we blow up, we’ll never forget that you were the one who believed in us.”

Marco stared down at his food. He didn’t look quite as convinced.

“Please,” Noah added. “We’ll even put you in the thank-you section on our first album.”

“Babe…” Lisa said quietly. “That’s a lot of money. You should think about this.”

“I don’t want to be unsupportive,” Angela said, looking torn. “If this can help them get a deal…”

“Exactly,” Jack said. “You’re not just my girlfriend. You’re part of the team.”

Angela looked at him, at the hopeful faces around the table. That same fluttery feeling from before wrapped around her heart.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll do it.”

Jack lit up. “You’re amazing.”

Lisa’s jaw clenched.

Two weeks later, Jack’s car gave up on him in the middle of a strip mall parking lot—right in front of a tire shop, a coffee place, and a mechanic’s garage with a flickering neon sign.

He limped the car into the bay, where a man in oil-stained coveralls took one listen and shook his head.

“Well, it’s not just your tires,” the mechanic said, wiping his hands. “You’re gonna need a whole new motor.”

“A whole new—” Jack repeated. His stomach dropped. “You serious?”

“Afraid so,” the mechanic said. “Honestly, I’m surprised this thing hasn’t broken down on you already.”

Jack swallowed. “How much?”

“Four grand,” the man said, like it was the weather.

“Four thousand dollars?” Jack’s voice cracked. He patted his pockets like money would magically appear. “I don’t have that kind of cash.”

“We take credit cards,” the mechanic said.

“That isn’t really an option,” Jack muttered. He’d maxed out the only card he had on gear and gas months ago.

The mechanic shrugged. “Maybe there’s someone you can call,” he said. “Family. Friends.”

Jack’s mind jumped exactly where it always did when he heard a number with that many zeros.

“Actually,” he said slowly, “maybe there is.”

He stepped away from the noise, out into the California sunshine, and dialed.

Angela picked up on the second ring. “Hey,” she said, already smiling. “We were just talking about you.”

“We?” Jack asked.

“Me and Lisa,” she said. “You know I’m always talking about you.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Speaking of… did you check your email? I got the festival tickets.”

“You did?” she gasped. “You are honestly the best.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, his tone shifting as he glanced back at the garage. “Hey, uh, are you at home?”

“I’m at the mall with Lisa,” she said. “Why? Is everything okay? It sounds loud.”

He hesitated. “I’m at a mechanic,” he admitted. “And to be honest, I’m kind of in a bind. I might need another favor.”

Lisa’s voice floated faintly through the line. “Is he asking for money again?”

“Would you mind going into another room so we can talk?” he asked, jaw tightening.

“It’s okay,” Angela said. “Lisa and I talk about everything. Just tell me.”

Jack bit back a sigh. “Well, I’m trying to fix my car. And it’s going to cost four grand.”

“What?” Angela yelped. “That’s so expensive.”

“I know,” he said. “Which is why I was thinking—”

“Do not give him any more money,” Lisa said, loud enough to carry. “She is not paying for your car.”

“I’m not asking her to give me anything,” Jack snapped. “Angela, can you please go somewhere private?”

“Sure,” she said quickly. “Just give me one sec.”

There was the sound of footsteps, a door, the whoosh of air-conditioning in some quiet corner of a very American mall.

“Okay,” Angela said. “It’s just me now.”

“I’m really starting not to like your friend,” Jack said. “She’s always got something to say.”

“She’s just trying to look out for me,” Angela said. “She cares about me.”

“Yeah, but why does she need to ‘look out’ for you when it comes to your boyfriend?” Jack demanded. “What does she think I am?”

Angela hesitated. “She… thinks you’re using me for my money,” she admitted softly. “She thinks once you get what you want, you’ll just leave me.”

Jack let out a scoff that could’ve won an award. “I would never do that,” he said. “You don’t have to convince me. I know who I am. But from where I’m standing, it sounds a lot like she’s jealous.”

“Jealous?” Angela repeated.

“Come on,” Jack said. “You’re dating a musician. You’re helping build something huge. She wishes she was you. So she’s trying to ruin what we have.”

“I don’t think she’d do that,” Angela said weakly. “She’s my best friend.”

“Is she?” Jack asked. “Because every time I ask you for help, she throws a fit. She wasn’t worried about me when my car broke down. She was worried about her opinion of me. You were worried about me. You always are.”

Angela closed her eyes. He knew exactly how to press on the soft parts of her heart.

“What do you need?” she asked quietly.

“I need to borrow four grand,” he said. “I know it’s a lot. But if I can’t fix my car, I can’t drive the guys to the festival. We miss the biggest chance of our lives.”

“Jack… you keep asking me for money,” she said. “It’s starting to hurt my feelings.”

“You don’t think it hurts mine having to ask?” he said, turning the guilt back like a mirror. “I’m a guy in America, Angela. I was raised to think I should be the one paying. The only reason I swallow my pride and ask you is because I know when our music blows up, I’ll be the one taking care of everything for you. You won’t pay for anything again. Not after you believed in me when no one else did.”

He let the words hang, then added softly, “And I love you.”

She went very still. “You… you do?”

“I love you,” he said again, sweet and smooth.

Angela felt her chest squeeze. He’d never said it before.

“I love you too,” she whispered. “You’re right. I’ll let you borrow the money. Besides, what’s four thousand in the grand scheme of things?”

Jack grinned at the sky. “You are incredible,” he said. “I’ll text you the shop info. We’ll have the car ready in no time. I’ll take you out to dinner tonight, okay? My treat.”

“Really?” she said, thrilled. “I’d love that.”

As soon as he hung up, he turned back toward the garage.

“Good news,” he told the mechanic. “My girl’s paying for it. Go ahead and start the work.”

The mechanic nodded. “I’ll have it ready for you in a couple days.”

Jack walked back outside, the Southern California air warm against his face. He shoved his hands in his pockets, smiling to himself.

“Easy,” he muttered. “Just told her I love her. Got her right in the palm of my hand.”

If Angela had heard that line, things might have gone very differently. But what she did hear, later that night, was almost as bad.

They sat in a candlelit Italian place off Ventura Boulevard, where the plates were big and the portions were bigger. Jack inhaled his pasta like he hadn’t eaten in days.

“That was delicious,” Angela said, setting her fork down. “I am so full.”

“You crushed that pasta,” he said, wiping his mouth. “You want the rest of mine?”

“No, I really can’t,” she laughed. “I’m stuffed.”

“Come on,” he teased, nudging his plate toward her. “I know my girl loves to eat.”

“Jack,” she said quietly. “I don’t want your leftovers.”

He rolled his eyes. “All right, all right. Just offering.”

The waitress appeared with the check. “Take your time,” she said. “No rush. By the way, I love your dress. You look amazing.”

“Thank you,” Angela said, genuinely pleased.

As soon as the waitress walked away, she turned to Jack. “You hear that? She complimented my outfit.”

“I complimented you too,” he said. “When I picked you up, I said, ‘Wow, that dress comes in your size? That’s awesome.’”

Angela stared at him. “That is not a compliment.”

He grimaced. “Okay, fine. You look beautiful tonight. Happy?”

“Now you’re just saying that.”

“No. I mean it. You’re gorgeous.” He leaned in. “I got the rest of this. Why don’t you go grab the car from valet? I’ll take care of the check.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “We can just go together.”

“It’ll be faster this way,” he said. “I’ll meet you out front.”

“Okay.” She reached into her purse and fished out the valet ticket. As she stood, he watched her go—pretty, trusting, still convinced this was a real date.

As soon as the door shut behind her, the waitress returned for the check.

“Actually,” Jack said, patting his pockets. “You’re not gonna believe this. I forgot my card. Any chance you can… run this on my friend’s card? She left it with me.”

Angela had barely reached the valet stand when her heart dropped.

Her valet ticket.

She’d left it on the table.

“I’ll be right back,” she told the valet, turning and hurrying back inside.

She stopped just short of the corner booth.

Jack was leaned back in his seat, flirting openly with the waitress.

“You should come see us play sometime,” he was saying. “I’m in a band. We’re pretty good. We’re playing a festival up near San Francisco next weekend. Maybe I can get you an extra ticket.”

“That sounds fun,” the waitress said, smiling. “What about your girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend?” Jack laughed. “She’s just a friend. Not really my type. I’m more into girls like you.”

Angela’s fingers tightened around the valet stub. The restaurant spun for a second.

She stepped back before they could see her and walked out the door, the reality of everything finally starting to crack through the version of Jack she’d been clinging to.

The next day, she did what she should have done weeks ago.

First, she got Stacy’s number from a mutual friend and sent a quick text.

Hey, how’s band practice going? 🙂

Stacy replied almost instantly.

What practice?

Angela stared at the screen.

The one last night, she typed. At Jack’s?

There was a pause, then:

I wasn’t there. I haven’t been to any practices. Why?

Angela’s stomach twisted.

Then she drove to the mechanic’s shop alone, the Southern California sun too bright for how she felt. The smell of oil and rubber hit her as she stepped inside.

“Hi,” she said. “I’m here about the Honda. Under… Jack Thompson?”

The mechanic looked up from a clipboard. “Yeah,” he said. “We’re already working on the motor. You here to pay?”

“Actually,” Angela said, her voice shaking but steady. “I’m here to tell you I won’t be paying for his car. You can stop the work.”

He raised an eyebrow. “He said his girl had him ‘eating out of her hand,’” the mechanic remarked. “Guess he was wrong.”

Angela’s cheeks burned. “He said what?”

The mechanic shrugged. “Told me he lied to you, got you to cover the bill. Didn’t seem too ashamed about it.”

That was the moment the last bit of denial burned away. It wasn’t just Lisa’s suspicion anymore. It was Jack’s own words, echoing back from a stranger.

By lunch, Angela had made her decision.

Jack caught up with her near the lockers, wearing a smile that used to make her stomach flip and now just made her tired.

“Babe,” he said. “I was just thinking about you.”

“I’m sure you were,” she said.

“Oh, come on,” he said. “Don’t be like that. I wanted to thank you again for dinner last night. You looked amazing.”

Lisa appeared at her shoulder like backup.

“Spare me,” Angela said. “I feel so stupid for not listening to her when she tried to warn me.”

Jack’s smile faltered. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Angela said, “I finally did my homework.”

She looked him straight in the eye.

“After I left the table last night because I ‘forgot’ my valet ticket, I saw you,” she said. “Flirting with the waitress. Telling her I was just a friend. Offering her a ticket to the festival.”

Jack opened his mouth, but she kept going.

“Then I texted Stacy,” she said. “Asked how band practice was going. She had no idea what I was talking about. Turns out, you lied about having a ‘band-members-only’ rehearsal. Those girls you said were backup singers? They’re not in your band at all. You just didn’t want me there.”

A few students slowed down as they passed, picking up on the tension.

“And this morning,” Angela continued, “I went to the mechanic. I told them I was no longer paying for your car. As I was leaving, the mechanic told me something. He said you told him you had me ‘eating out of the palm of your hand.’ That all you had to do was say you loved me and I’d pay for anything.”

Jack’s face drained of color.

“So you see,” Angela said, her voice steady now, “I finally understand. You never loved me. You just loved what you could get from me. I should have known the difference between being loved and being used.”

“It’s not what it looks like,” Jack started. “Angela, listen—”

“Enough with the lies,” she said sharply. “Nothing you say will change my mind now.”

She glanced at Lisa. “Shall we?”

Lisa nodded. “We shall.”

They walked away together, leaving Jack standing in the middle of the hallway, suddenly very small in a place where five minutes earlier he’d been playing the star.

“What about my car?” he called after her, desperation creeping into his voice. “They already started the work. I need to pay them. What about the festival? We have tickets!”

Angela turned back once, eyes clear. “The car is your problem,” she said. “And the festival? That part is taken care of.”

That afternoon, the band met behind the music building, as usual. Only today, it wasn’t Jack holding court—it was Angela, with a stack of printouts in her hand.

“Look,” Noah said as he walked up. “It’s Angela.”

Jack jogged over, trying to reclaim his leadership. “You guys, you’re never going to believe what she did—”

“No,” Angela said calmly. “They’re never going to believe what you did.”

She handed each of them a ticket.

VIP: AFX FESTIVAL – SAN FRANCISCO

“I called the ticket company,” she said. “Upgraded all the tickets to VIP. Then I transferred them into new names.”

She smiled at Marco. “Yours. Noah’s. Jel’s. Mine. Lisa’s. Stacy’s. A few others. Everyone who didn’t use me.”

“You did this?” Marco said, stunned.

“You’re all going to the festival,” Angela said. “Without him.”

The guys exchanged looks. The vision they’d had in their heads—standing on the festival grounds together, maybe meeting industry people—didn’t have Jack in it anymore. For the first time, that seemed… okay.

“You can’t do this,” Jack stammered. “I got us those tickets.”

“With my money,” Angela said. “And when the account holder calls, the festival listens. Enjoy staying home.”

He sputtered. “At least I got a new guitar out of this,” he said. “I guess that’s something.”

Angela’s expression shifted into something almost sympathetic.

“Oh,” she said. “About that.”

At the mechanic’s shop, the air smelled of burnt rubber and motor oil. Jack stormed in, sweat prickling at the back of his neck.

“Hey,” he said to the mechanic. “I changed my mind. I don’t want the work done. Put my old motor back in.”

The mechanic didn’t even look up from the paperwork. “Little late for that, kid,” he said. “I already swapped it.”

“Fine,” Jack said, reaching for his wallet like he might bluff a payment. “Can you at least pop the trunk so I can get my guitar?”

The mechanic glanced at him. “I’m going to hold onto that,” he said.

“What?” Jack demanded. “Why?”

“Collateral,” the mechanic replied. “Until you settle your bill.”

“I don’t have any money,” Jack said, panic slipping in now that charm wasn’t working.

“Then you don’t have a car,” the mechanic said. “Or a guitar.”

Jack stepped back, the reality of it crashing down. No car. No festival. No band. No VIP anything. No Angela.

Somewhere up north, a festival stage would light up against a San Francisco night. Angela would be there in the crowd with her friends, singing along, feeling the bass in her chest and the air on her face, realizing she didn’t need a boy with a guitar to make her life feel like a song.

Back home, Jack stood in the doorway of a mechanic’s shop, staring at the hollow where his plans used to be.

For the first time, he understood what it meant to have nothing to offer anyone but himself.

And for the first time, that didn’t feel like nearly enough.