“Text me when you get home,” Diego said while getting inside his car.
I waved. “Yeah, yeah. I’m not five.”
“You sure you don’t want me to drive you home?”
I nod. “It’s fine. I’m buying something just near the area.”
“I could come with you—”
“Nah, it’s fine. Youre busy, Diego.”
“I’m never busy for you, Amari.”
“Yeah? Coming from someone who just came back after many years?”
He grinned. I waved my hand as goodbye to him. When I saw his car away from the restaurant we’ve eaten, I turned, checking my phone, not even thinking twice as I stepped toward the street.
A loud honk blared.
Then, screeching tires.
Before I could react, an arm yanked me back—hard. My breath caught as my feet left the ground. We crashed onto the pavement, pain shooting up my back as my elbow scraped the road.
