Yala Smith
I take a deep breath before getting off my bike. I find it amazing that he has the courage to come here after everything that happened. I walk towards him, and when I'm in front of him, I say:
— What brings you here? — I ask, looking deep into his eyes.
He puts his hands in his pants pockets and puffs out his chest, giving an air of superiority and I hate that.
— Why don't you answer my calls? — he responds with another question.
I roll my eyes, knowing he wants to irritate me and will succeed.
— So now you forget the crap you do and say? — I ask, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
He shakes his head negatively, then moves away from the car's body, closing the little distance that still separated us. I keep my eyes fixed on his, even with the wonderful smell of his perfume e
