When Best Friends Kiss
I had read its contents three times, and I was thinking about it so much that I did not even have the time to flick through Amanda’s recommended GoodNovel books.
The main campus faded behind me as I followed a neat gravel path lined with sculpted hedges, leading to a charming, ivy-clad brick building that looked more like a quaint coach house than a garage.
The large wooden door was slightly ajar. I pushed it open and stepped into a space that smelled of old leather, polished wood, and a faint, pleasant hint of oil. There was a 1960s Jaguar E-Type, a pristine Model T, and a sleek Aston Martin that looked like it had just driven off a spy film set.