The janitor uniform was baggy, faded, and smelled like old pine-scented bleach. Nicole dragged the mop bucket down the hallway, her sneakers squeaking on the polished floor as she kept her head low.
Eyes straight ahead.
Mouth tight.The basketball court was her next stop. Her punishment for the "party night" incident had landed her on school clean-up duty all week. They didn't even try to make it subtle. And today, lucky her, she got stuck mopping the gym—She pushed the double doors open with one shoulder and rolled the mop bucket inside—and stopped cold.
Dray was there. Alone.
In a sleeveless hoodie, one hand spinning a basketball effortlessly at his side, like he owned the place. Which he kinda did.
Nicole stood stiff at the entrance, lips pressed in a tight line.
He looked up. Paused.
Smirked.
"Damn," he said, wiping his forehead with his forearm, "they really got you in the uniform and everything?"
Nicole let the door shut behind her with a thud.
he grinned , as he walked toward her, the basketball still bouncing lazily in his hand.
Nicole grabbed the mop and dunked it in the bucket.
He tilted his head.
She ignored him and started pushing the mop across the court, the wet streaks smearing across the glossy hardwood.
Dray walked alongside her like it was a stroll in the park. "You drove Anna's car to my place, by the way. Thought we had an agreement. That was bold."
"Couldn't tell you," Nicole muttered, not looking at him. "Thought your mouth was busy."
"Ouch."
She slammed the mop harder than necessary, spinning it toward the next line of court paint.
"You left the wallet."
"I didn't mean for you to thank me with your tongue."
He exhaled, smile slipping a little. "I didn't mean for you to walk in."
"Oh, that makes it so much better."
He was quiet for a second. Then—
"You jealous?"
Nicole stopped mopping.
Turned. Gave him a cold look
They stared at each other, Her in a janitor uniform, him in a hoodie with sweat glistening on his collarbones. Both of them carrying way too much unspoken crap.
Then she turned back to the mop. And Dray's voice came again, quieter this time.
"I wasn't thinking straight, alright?"
Nicole paused. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Anna showed up drunk. Crying. Rambling about her boyfriend leaving her. She kissed me. I… let her."
She stayed silent.
"But I didn't stop her because I wanted her," he said. "I didn't stop her… because I didn't know what the hell was happening between us."
Nicole looked up slowly. Her voice was flat.
"What's us."
Dray nodded once. "Yeah. Knew you'd ask that." And he walked past her toward the other side of the gym, the basketball bouncing with every step, echoing across the court. Nicole watched him walk away, She told herself to stay mad. To keep mopping. To not let him see even a crack. But her voice came out before she could stop it.
"I wouldn't have kissed someone else."
Dray froze at the far end of the court.
She stared down at the mop, pretending like the words hadn't just slipped out of her mouth. Slowly, he turned.
"You wouldn't have?" he asked, voice low.
Nicole swallowed. "Never mind."
He walked back toward her, slower this time, like the space between them mattered more than it should've.
"And why's that?" he said, stopping just in front of her.
She avoided his eyes. " I don't do rebound stories. I don't settle for being confused."
Dray's voice was quiet, close. "I wasn't confused when I was with you."
She looked up.
He nodded. " I thought about you the whole damn time."
Nicole blinked.
He leaned in just slightly, not enough to touch her, but close enough that she could smell the sweat and cologne on his skin—clean, sharp, maddening.
"I messed up," he said. "But if you think I haven't been going insane thinking about you walking into my place… in that hoodie… with that pissed-off look that makes me want to ruin everything—"
"Stop," she whispered.
Dray smiled, soft and cocky. "Say you weren't jealous."
Nicole hesitated. His hand reached out, brushing a piece of hair from her cheek, lingering just a second too long.
"I wasn't—jealous," she lied, voice barely steady.
His smile widened.
"You're a terrible liar," he murmured.
Then he took the mop from her hands, dropped it in the bucket, and stepped even closer.
"You gonna make me work for it?"
Nicole's heart slammed against her ribs.
"I'm gonna make you suffer," she said.
He leaned in, his lips almost brushing hers.
"I like a challenge."
And just when it felt like he might actually kiss her—really kiss her, this time, slow and real and nothing like what he gave Anna—
The gym doors creaked open. They both jumped apart.
""Coach Dray?""a student called
Nicole grabbed the mop like she'd been working the whole time. "Still cleaning."
Dray smirked. "Yes come back later."
The student narrowed his eyes, then grunted. "Ok"" He left.
And Nicole glanced sideways at Dray, who was still smirking.
"You were about to kiss me," she muttered.
"Don't look at me like that," she said without turning.
"Like what?"
"Like you didn't just almost ruin my whole 'I hate you' thing."
Dray grinned. "Maybe I'm tryna ruin it."
Nicole glanced at him sideways, biting back a smirk. "You're not charming, you know."
"I'm not?"
"No. You're just… persistent."
He leaned against the mop handle she was gripping, their hands brushing for a second. "Persistent works."
She didn't pull away.
Instead, she lowered her voice. "You still kissed her."
He nodded. "Yeah. I did."
"And I still saw it."
"I know."
"And I'm still mad."
"I'd be worried if you weren't."
They were both quiet for a second.
Then Dray tilted his head. "But you're not walking away."
Nicole didn't respond right away.
She stared down at her sneakers, at the weird water ring the mop had made on the court. And then, softly—
"I should."
"But you didn't."
He stepped closer again. Slower this time. No sudden moves. Just his voice, low and steady and stupidly warm.
"You don't try to be liked. You just are. Even when you hate me. Even when you're in a damn janitor uniform, pissed off and ready to swing. I can't stop watching you."
Nicole tried to roll her eyes. Tried to scoff.
But her throat tightened instead.
Dray's gaze dropped to the floor. " I didn't think I had a shot with you."
She stared at him.
"You're you," he added, still not looking at her. "And I'm just… some guy."
Nicole let go of the mop handle.
"What's this?," she muttered.
Dray looked up. And stepped closer. Close enough to reach her. To hold her. But he didn't—not yet. Instead, he said, " let me try again. This time, no games. No Anna . Just you and me."
Nicole looked up at him. Eyes glassy. Guard cracking.And then, quietly—
"You're gonna have to work for it."
Dray smiled, soft and serious.
"Then I guess I'm staying late."
Nicole didn't move at first. She just looked at him—really looked—and for the first time, her guard wasn't up. No sarcasm. No defense. Just her. Raw, vulnerable, and finally done pretending she didn't feel it too. Dray stepped in, closing the last inch between them. His hand slid up to her cheek, slow, like he was asking permission without saying a word. Nicole didn't flinch this time. She leaned in. And their lips met. Soft at first. Careful. But it didn't stay that way. Because the second she kissed him back—really kissed him—Dray pressed in like he'd been holding it in for weeks. His hands cupped her face, his body flush against hers, like he was afraid she'd vanish if he let go. Nicole's fingers curled into the front of his hoodie, pulling him closer like she needed to feel every part of it. Every beat. Every breath. Every second of the chaos they'd been dancing around. The kiss deepened—messy, hungry, real. They stayed there for a moment, wrapped in the silence after the kiss. Breath shallow. Heartbeats loud.
Nicole's hands were still curled in the front of Dray's hoodie, but suddenly, it felt too close. Too real. Too much. Her eyes opened, wide and unsure, like she'd just woken up in the middle of something she hadn't meant to fall into. Dray noticed the shift.
"Hey," he said quietly. "You okay?"
But Nicole was already stepping back.
One step. Then another. She shook her head, almost to herself. "I shouldn't have…"
Dray frowned. "Nicole."
"I gotta go," she muttered, avoiding his eyes as she turned on her heel.
"Wait—"
But she was already pushing through the gym doors, the heavy metal clanging shut behind her. Dray stood there alone on the court, lips still tingling, chest rising and falling like he'd just run a full game. He let out a breath and stared at the spot where she'd stood, hand running through his hair.
"Damn."
Meanwhile, Nicole rushed down the hallway, heart racing harder than it had all week.
What the hell was that? She didn't know why it scared her so much—but it did. Maybe because it felt too good. Too safe. Too easy to fall into. And easy had never worked out for her.
She reached the supply closet, grabbed the keys, and yanked off the stupid janitor jacket like it was burning her skin. Then she just stood there for a second, breathing hard. Hands trembling. And whispered under her breath, "What the hell am I doing?"
Her reflection in the tiny cracked mirror above the sink was a mess—flushed cheeks, wild hair, lips swollen from a kiss she hadn't meant to give. A kiss she couldn't stop thinking about.
"Stupid," she muttered to herself. "What are you doing?"
She turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on her face, trying to bring her pulse back down to earth. But it didn't work. That kiss had cracked something wide open. And now? She didn't know how to close it back. Nicole grabbed her phone from her back pocket, the screen lighting up with a missed message. She blinked, heart still racing—until she saw it. Unknown Number. Again.
"Did Dray taste as good as you thought he would?"
Her blood turned to ice. She stared at the text, jaw locking. Her breath hitched. Was someone watching? Her hands hovered over the phone. And then—ding. A second message came in.
"You should learn to close the gym doors all the way."
She gripped the edge of the sink. Someone saw. And they wanted her to know it.
Nicole grabbed her bag, pulled the hoodie up over her head, and left the closet like a shadow, eyes sharp and focused now. — her instincts had kicked in. If someone thought they could scare her into silence, they clearly didn't know who they were messing with. she headed toward the cafeteria.
The noise hit her before she even reached the doors—laughter, metal trays clanging, voices bouncing off walls. Every sound felt like a slap to her nerves. She walked in, clutching an empty tray like a shield. Breathe. Act normal. Her eyes swept the chaos. Dozens of faces. A blur of tables. Sky was across the room surrounded by her circle, laughing loud over nothing. Marcos wasn't far, leaned back like a king in the corner with his boys. Nicole looked away fast, her pulse jumping.
Where's Tasha ? She hadn't spoken to her in weeks—hadn't even looked her way since Sky came into the picture. And now here she was, wandering through the cafeteria like a lost dog with guilt clawing her chest.
She moved down the food line without tasting or caring what she grabbed—some fries, a juice box, a sandwich she probably wouldn't touch. Just enough to make it look casual. Normal. She turned around slowly, tray in hand, scanning faces—not her, not her… where is she— Then finally, by the far window. Alone. Bent over a textbook with earbuds in, poking halfheartedly at a bowl of noodles. Tasha. Nicole exhaled. Then walked over, heart still hammering, smile halfway on. She dropped the tray down like it meant nothing.
"Hey, stranger."
Tasha looked up, blinked.
"Nicole?"
"Mind if I sit?"
Tasha gave her one long, cold look—and pulled out an earbud.
"Wow. You remember I exist?"
Nicole gave a crooked half-smile, sliding into the seat across from her. "Barely," she joked, stabbing a fry like this wasn't the most awkward lunch of her life. "But I figured I owed you some cafeteria trauma bonding."
Tasha arched a brow. "Since when?"
Nicole opened her mouth to answer—
And a tray clattered loudly behind her.
Sky. Just passing by, eyes locked on Nicole.
She slowed. Paused.
"You good?" she asked, loud enough for both tables to hear. Nicole didn't flinch. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Sky tilted her head, a smile pulling at her lip. "You look… stressed."
Nicole shrugged. "None of your business."
Sky's eyes flicked to Tasha, then back to Nicole, lingering like she wanted to say more—but didn't. She gave a slow nod, then walked off, her laughter trailing behind her like perfume.
Nicole let out a quiet breath and turned back to Tasha, who was now giving her serious side-eye.
"Okay," Tasha said. "What is going on?"
Nicole picked up her juice box and sipped it like it was nothing. "Nothing. I just wanted to catch up."
"Yeah, sure," Tasha said, sitting back. "You didn't even like me when we talked the first time."
Nicole winced. "Not true."
Tasha folded her arms.
"…Okay, a little true," Nicole muttered. "But that was then."
Tasha narrowed her eyes, suspicious, curious, maybe even a little entertained. Nicole leaned in a bit. "Listen. I need help. Just with something small."
Tasha tilted her head. "Uh huh."
Nicole dropped her voice low, eyes flicking around the room. "I think someone's been in my locker. I want to check the hallway cams."
Eve frowned. "Why not report it?"
"Because I'm not trying to make it a thing if it turns out I'm wrong. I just… want to be sure."
Tasha didn't answer right away. Her fork spun in her noodles, face unreadable.Then finally
"Still a bad liar," she said. "But I'll bite."
Nicole smirked faintly. "So you'll help?"
Tasha sighed. "Yeah. Meet me after sixth period. Back stairwell near the tech wing."
Nicole nodded once. "Game on."
From his spot in the far corner of the cafeteria, Marcos stirred the melting ice in his drink, eyes half-lidded, mouth pulling at a lazy smirk. But his focus? Was locked dead on her. Nicole.
Moving through the cafeteria with her tray like she was playing pretend. Hood up. Head down.
He leaned back in his seat, propping one elbow on the table, index finger tapping against his jaw.
He smirked. She was hiding something. And it wasn't just guilt.
He leaned over to the guy next to him. "You know that Tasha chick?"
The guy shrugged. "Yeah, bitch but. Messes with the AV club or something."
Marcos nodded absently, lips twisting.
The bell rang. Sixth period ended in a wave of screeching chairs, slamming lockers, and teenagers stampeding toward freedom. Marcos didn't move right away. He sat at the back of the classroom, eyes on the clock, bag slung lazily over his shoulder like he had nowhere to be. But he did. He waited exactly two minutes before stepping out, blending into the hallway like he belonged there—because he always did. No one questioned Marcos. He walked like he owned the place. And he already knew where Nicole would be. Tech wing. Back stairwell.
He kept his steps light, slow, casual. Turned a corner, eyes flicking past the janitor's cart. The halls were thinning now, the after-school lull settling in. Then he saw her. Nicole. Leaning against the wall by the back stairs, arms folded, that familiar annoyed look on her face like waiting for someone was the biggest inconvenience in the world.
He ducked into a classroom doorway just before she turned her head. Seconds later, Tasha showed up,
backpack slung low, laptop in hand. They exchanged a few words—Nicole talking low, Tasha rolling her eyes—and then they disappeared through a side door. Marcos waited five beats. Then followed.
No sound, no hesitation.
He knew these halls like the back of his hand. He slipped through the door just as it eased shut behind them.
The hallway beyond was dim and quiet, lined with storage closets and tech labs.
Perfect. He stayed several feet back, keeping to the shadows, footsteps like whispers. He heard Tasha murmuring something about "three days of footage," and Nicole's low reply: "Just the east hall. Around locker 218."
Marcos smirked. Locker 218.
Bingo. He stayed out of sight as the girls ducked into a side room—some forgotten AV lab with old monitors and tangled cords. He crouched by the door, heart slow and steady, listening. Tasha clicked through something on her laptop. Then:
"I thought you said someone took your stuff?"
Nicole hesitated. "…Yeah."
"Then why do you look like you're hoping it wasn't your locker they messed with?"
Silence. Then a forced laugh.
"Paranoia, I guess."
Marcos narrowed his eyes. He didn't know what she was hiding yet. But he was going to find out. Nicole sat in front of the old monitor, her fingers hovering nervously over the keyboard. The room was silent except for the faint hum of the computer, and the soft tap of her anxious tapping. Tasha sat next to her, leaning back in the old
office chair, arms crossed, eyes glued to the screen. "I still don't get why you're doing this."
Nicole shot her a quick glance, but didn't answer. Her focus was on the footage.
The grainy video ran through seconds, minutes—every small detail of the hallway, every door opening and closing, every student walking past. Nothing. She paused, rewound. Then—Her stomach lurched.
There, on the screen—locker 218.
And there, standing near it, just like she'd feared—the shadow of someone she knew all too well. Marcos.
Her breath caught in her throat.
What the hell is he doing here?
Nicole instinctively hit pause, the seconds stretching between them. Her mind raced, trying to put pieces together—was he really involved? Did he know?.
Tasha squinted at the screen. "Who's that? It's hard to make out in the dark."
Nicole's heart pounded.
She didn't answer Tasha, not right away. Instead, she leaned forward, eyes fixed on the grainy figure. Every ounce of her was trying to make sense of it—
"I… I don't know," she said, voice tight.
Eve gave her a sideways glance. "Well, whoever it is, they're near your locker."
Nicole's chest tightened. "Yeah…"
She rewound the footage again, slower this time. The figure lingered by locker 218, then… walked away. He turned and disappeared down the hallway.
Her finger hovered over the pause button.
And then, before she could even register the feeling in her gut, she heard it. The faintest sound—the door creaking open behind her. She spun around too fast,
There, leaning casually in the doorway, stood Marcos. His eyes were dark, calculating. Like he knew exactly what she'd been looking for. The smirk on his face was barely there, but it was enough to make Nicole's chest tighten.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Nicole's voice was tight,
Marcos didn't answer right away. He just stepped into the room, crossing the threshold with that swagger of his that made her feel small, like he was in control of everything.
"You didn't think I'd notice?" he finally spoke, his voice cool and smooth, almost mocking.
Nicole's mind raced. "Notice what?" she shot back. Marcos took a slow step forward. His gaze flicked to the computer screen, then back to her. "What are you up to?"
Nicole clenched her fists at her sides.
"Are you this stupid and jobless?,"her voice growing a little more firm.
he smirked, taking another step forward.
He was so close now, his breath warm against her skin. The silence between them was thick
he said, low and dangerous. " trust me, I don't think you want to find out what happens when people like us play games."
Nicole stood her ground, her jaw tight.
"Use that and learn how to mind your own businesses, Marcos," she said, her voice steady but low, like a warning.
Marcos let out a quiet chuckle, stepping back just enough to watch her, eyes narrowing.
"Funny," he said, the smirk creeping back. "Because I'm not trying to."
Nicole didn't know how long she stood there, eyes locked with his. Marcos turned his back to her and walked out of the room, his voice just a whisper over his shoulder:
"I'll be watching, Nicole. Don't forget that."
She heard Tasha shifting behind her, but it barely registered. All she could focus on was the heat in her cheeks and the tightness in her chest. Why does he always make me feel like this? Without another word, Nicole snatched up her bag from the desk, not caring that it sent her jacket sleeve flopping over the edge. She swung the strap over her shoulder with a jerk, the sharp sound of the zipper almost too loud in the silence of the room.
Tasha was still sitting there, frozen. Nicole didn't spare her a glance as she made for the door. The tension from the last few minutes simmered in her veins, boiling over, and before she could stop herself, she slammed the door behind her with a force that made the whole hallway echo.
It felt good. It felt like she was doing something. Something for herself.
She stormed through the halls, ignoring the stares. The weight of Marcos's smirk, his quiet threat, hung over her like a storm cloud. She could still feel the heat of his proximity, the unsettling calmness in his voice, and she hated it. She hated him.
But more than that, she hated how powerless he made her feel. Nicole reached the exit, pushing through the door into the open air, not caring who might be watching. Her steps were quick and purposeful, trying to outrun the thoughts that kept clawing at her mind. — She stopped abruptly in her tracks, staring at the empty space where her car should've been. The realization hit her like a slap to the face: She didn't have a car. Great. Just great.
Nicole exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. She had no choice. Just get a ride. With a sigh, she pulled her phone from her bag and unlocked it, scrolling quickly to Tasha's number.
Nicole hesitated for a second, then typed out a message to Tasha, fingers quickly moving over the keys: "Hey, I need a ride. Can you give me a ride?"
There was a slight delay before the message came back: "You're lucky I'm even answering. You really just left me there, huh? No 'thank you,' no 'see you later?'"
Nicole bit her lip, and quickly typed back: "Sorry. I was in a rush. Can you help me out?"
Another message pinged in: "Fine. I'll be therein15."
Nicole slid her phone back into her pocket, letting out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She kicked a small rock at the ground, trying to shake off the tension, but it only grew.
Why does everything have to be so complicated? she thought. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against a lamppost, feeling the cool air brush over her skin.
The minutes dragged on, every second pulling her further into the mess she was trying to outrun. No choice but to wait for Tasha to pick her up.
Finally, a familiar car pulled up, screeching to a halt in front of her. The engine cut off with a loud growl, Tasha stood, hands on her hips, eyes narrowed in frustration. Nicole opened her mouth to say something, but Tasha cut her off before she could speak.
"You know, Nicole, you really are a bitch," Tasha said, her tone icy, her eyes sharp. "Just running off without any explanation. You left me in that room without a word. After everything I did for you today—nothing. You didn't even thank me."
Nicole bristled, her jaw tightening. " I didn't planned to leave you there""
Tasha's face went white with shock, her mouth hanging open slightly, Nicole didn't wait for Tasha to respond. She pushed past her, slamming the car door shut behind her. She didn't even care that the car was still running.
"I'll get home myself," she spat, her voice low but heavy with anger. But as she turned to walk away, Tasha grabbed her arm, pulling her back with surprising strength.
"Don't you dare walk away from me like this," Tasha's voice was low, seething. "You might be pissed off, but that doesn't give you the right to treat me like this. You're not the only one dealing with shit, Nicole!"
Nicole whirled around, eyes blazing. "I will never do that again if I were you, you're just making it worse!"
Before Tasha could respond, Nicole yanked her arm free, shoving past her again. But Tasha's voice followed her, louder now, almost desperate.
"Bitch I'm not scared of you!"
Nicole didn't stop walking. The car's engine roared back to life as Tasha's tires screeched, the sound of the car pulling away ringing in Nicole's ears. But before she could process what had just happened, her phone buzzed again. It was a message from Sky.
"Are you okay?"
Nicole stared at the screen for a moment, the familiar pang of isolation sinking in.
She shoved the phone back into her pocket and kept walking. The cool wind whipped through her hair as she made her way down the street. She had no real destination in mind, just walking to clear her head, though she wasn't sure it was working. Every step felt like she was just putting more distance between herself and the chaos, but it was still there, chasing her.
The sound of footsteps infront of her was heard but she kept moving. thinking it might be someone from school. Instead, she was face-to-face with Jaden, his tall figure blocking her path, his expression unreadable.
"Where are you going to?" he asked, his voice calm but with that edge of concern that she wasn't sure she wanted right now.
Nicole hesitated, then let out a sharp breath. "Away."
Jaden raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Let's talk."
She narrowed her eyes at him, annoyance creeping back into her chest. "Why is everyone this jobless today?"
He shrugged nonchalantly, Jaden didn't move, his gaze steady. "I only want to talk Nicole"
Nicole's chest tightened. She pushed past him, her voice sharp. "I have more important things to do."
But Jaden caught her arm, gently but firmly.
"Nicole wait," he said, his voice quieter now, almost softer. "I get it. You don't want to talk. But you can't just bottle everything up."
She pulled her arm free, rubbing her wrist as if his touch had stung. "You don't know anything about me, Jaden. So don't pretend like you do."
He stepped closer, his presence imposing
but not threatening.
Nicole eyes burning with frustration. "You think you can just slap me and tell me what to do, Jaden?" Her voice was sharp, cutting through the air. "Just because you're my brother doesn't mean you have any right to act like you're in charge of me!"
A familiar voice called out from behind them.
"Nicole!"
She turned, irritation flashing across her face as she saw Sky approaching them,
"What the hell do you want, Sky?" she snapped, her voice sharp. Sky stopped a few feet away, glancing at Jaden, then back at her. "I came to make sure you're okay," he said, his voice guarded. "I saw you storm off earlier. You didn't seem like you were doing too well."
Nicole could feel the anger bubbling up again, She turned to Jaden, feeling the need to get out of this tense moment. "I don't need a babysitter," she muttered, glancing at both of them. "I'm fine."
She didn't wait for either of them to respond, quickly walked out on them both, But Sky's voice called out once more.
"Nicole stop being childish and just listen," she said, her words firm but somehow filled with something softer beneath the surface.
Nicole stopped in her tracks, her pulse quickening.
Sky, stepped forward slowly. Her expression was serious,
"Nicole let's talk," Sky said quietly, trying to keep her tone calm.
"I didn't want to hurt you, Nicole," Sky said, her voice a little softer now. "I was just trying to figure things out. It wasn't supposed to be like this."
Nicole shook her head, her thoughts racing.
"You know what?" she snapped, spinning back to face both of them. "I don't care anymore. I want you to choose, Sky. Between me and your relationship with my brother. You can't have both."
Nicole waited for Sky to respond, but the silence was deafening. Her chest tightened.
Jaden's voice broke the silence, his tone low and serious. "You need to calm down, Nicole. This isn't the way to handle things."
"I'm done," Nicole muttered, turning and walking away, leaving both of them standing there in the aftermath of her words. Nicole stormed down the street, her sneakers slapping against the pavement, the chill of the evening air biting at her skin. She stuffed her hands deep into her jacket pockets, trying to bury the anger still simmering inside her. Her mind raced in circles.