Lola's POV

I kept walking through the parking lot, trying to put distance between us and breathe. But I heard footsteps behind me.

Fast. Heavy. Getting closer.

"Lola!"

I stopped. Turned around. Flint was running toward me. His face was twisted with anger. With hurt. With something darker.

"You don't just get to walk away," he said when he reached me. His voice was low. Dangerous.

"Flint, please."

"No." He grabbed my arm. Not hard enough to hurt, but firm. "You don't get to drop that on me and ...