Martin. He stood at the entrance, across the food court, dressed in jeans, a black pullover, and his dark hair perfectly coiffed. He stared at me with his hand in his pocket. A smile reaching his eyes that he didn’t give away across his lips. My spine tingled, seeing the challenge in his gaze. “Emmy!” Rika called. “Emmy, let’s go!” He stared at me. I couldn’t move. My lungs constricted, one foot ready to retreat, and another wanting to charge over and beat him until my hands were bloody. A cry lodged in my throat. I can’t move. And then, a small hand slipped inside mine, the cold skin rough
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