“Raya, what the hell? I’m talking to you!”
I ignored him, my heart pounding, my pulse roaring in my ears.
“Stop this childishness,” he snapped, impatient. “I don’t know why you’re overreacting. Stop the bike. I want to talk to you.”
Childishness? My jaw clenched. Without a word, I sped up, pushing past him.
The frustration in his voice, the lack of remorse—it added to the storm inside me. He hadn’t even apologized, just sent a few half-hearted texts, expecting me to return to him. Like I owed him that.
Suddenly, Skyler’s car zoomed ahead, tires screeching as he swerved recklessly in front of me. I slammed on the brakes, my scooter stopping inches from his car. My heart raced as I glared at him.
He stepped out, his face twisted with anger as he marched toward me, frustration rolling off him in waves.
“Raya,” he growled, “we need to talk. Now.”
I got off the scooter, my heart pounding with anger I could barely contain. "Why stop me, Skyler? I don't want to talk to you."
His eyes narrowed. "I won’t tolerate you disrespecting me."
Disrespect? My blood boiled hotter. "What about the disrespect and hurt you caused me yesterday?"