rt was still racing from the close call, and I stood still in my position, my breath hitched in my throat as I struggled to process what had just happe

ercing deep emerald green eyes that seemed to bore into my soul like a laser beam. His hair was styled in a sleek, slicked-back g

events. I felt like I had been punched in the gut, my breath knocked out of me by the sheer force of his

s hanging in the air like a challenge. I was taken aback by his outburst, my f

ult, not me. He was the one who had been speeding, who had almost run me ov

ng with anger. "You're the one who almost ran me over, and you're yelling at me? Maybe y

with condescension and entitlement. He took a step closer to me,

e?" I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm and disdain. I didn't even bother to hide my contempt

d splashing across his chest and face. He yelped in surprise,

tanding there, spluttering and cursing. I could hear his angry shouts behind me, but I didn't look back. I

od up to that arrogant stranger, and I had walked away with my head held high. I didn't know who

t my father wants. I had been thinking about it nonstop since our confrontation, and I had come to the realization

towards it. I was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and

tation on his face. "Where are you coming from?" he asked, his

y neck. "So a girl can't go for a run now?" I said, trying to

he said, his expression s

yself. "Where to?" I asked, following

stairs. Then he suddenly stopped, making me stop abruptly too. I a

ce dripping with mockery and sarcasm. He turned to face

dreading. I was going to meet the man I was g