ZARA; Ever had a finger?
I stormed out of the basement, my heart pounding with anger and shame. What was I even thinking? Why did I let my hope rise for a second? He was no better. And the worst part? I let him touch me.
“Ughhh!” I screamed, dragging my fingers through my hair as I marched toward the gate.
The evening air hit my face, but it didn’t cool the heat inside me. Just when I thought I’d escaped him, the deep rumble of his bike followed, loud and familiar. I didn’t have to turn to know it was him.
He stopped right beside me, engine humming low. “Look, let me take you home,” he said.
“I don’t want to get on your silly bike,” I snapped without even glancing at him.
“Bambi—”
“Don’t.” I halted sharply, turning to glare at him. “Don’t call me that. You’re a messed-up person. Wh
