Mark's new car was ugly.
Nicole didn't say it out loud, but the smirk on her face screamed it.
"Don't say it," Mark warned as she unbuckled her seatbelt.
"I wasn't gonna," she said innocently. Then, "Actually… it's giving toaster on wheels."
He groaned. "You're walking home."
She laughed, flipping him off as she slammed the car door and slung her bag over her shoulder.
Lincoln High looked the same. Same cracked pavement. Same cloud of pre-class misery hanging over everyone. But something in the air felt off—quieter, heavier.
She spotted Tasha near the stairwell, her arms crossed tight like she was holding herself together. Nicole approached without saying anything.
Tasha saw her, hesitated, then walked over. "Hey. You got a second?"
Nicole frowned. "Yeah, what's up?"
Tasha swallowed hard. Her eyes were red—she hadn't slept. "It's Angel."
Nicole's spine stiffened.
"She's in the hospital. Last night… she collapsed at home."
"What?"
"She's in a coma, Nic. They said it might be something with her brain—some undiagnosed autoimmune thing. Her mom found her barely breathing. They rushed her in."
Nicole blinked. "Wait… coma?"
Tasha nodded, voice low. "I just thought you'd want to know."
Nicole stood still, her hand tightening on her bag strap. No one else in the hallway seemed to notice the way her stomach dropped.
"Is she… is she going to be okay?"
"They don't know."
That was it.
Nicole turned and walked away, her boots echoing against the tile.
And Nicole—she didn't know what she was feeling. Rage? Guilt? Fear? Nothing was clear.
The gym echoed when she walked in—too empty, too still. The lights hummed above, and the scent of rubber and sweat hung like a memory that didn't know it expired.
Nicole paused near the door, tightening her ponytail, her eyes sweeping the court.
Only Coach Dray was there, sitting on the bleachers with a clipboard he wasn't writing on. His head lifted at the sound of her sneakers.
"You showed," he said.
Nicole shrugged. "Why wouldn't I?"
He stood. "Practice is canceled."
She raised an eyebrow. "What, just for me?"
"No. Everyone bailed." He grabbed a basketball from the floor and spun it once in his hand. "They're all feeling some type of way about Angel."
Nicole stayed silent for a second, then started toward the court. "That sucks."
Dray passed her the ball. She caught it with ease.
"How do you feel about the news?" he asked.
Nicole bounced the ball once. The echo was sharp.
"I feel like she's not dead," she said. "So… I'm not sure what everyone wants from me."
Dray studied her.
"You don't feel guilty?"
She shot the ball from the free-throw line. It sank cleanly.
"I didn't put her in a coma," Nicole replied, cool and flat. "And no one's proven I did."
He walked closer. "That wasn't what I asked."
She turned, arms folded. "You want me to cry? Want me to regret it? Feel bad that I finally stood up for myself?"
"I want you to be honest with yourself," he said quietly. "Because acting like it didn't mess you up? That's the lie."
Nicole's eyes narrowed. "You think you know me?"
Dray didn't flinch. "I think you're scared to feel anything."
She laughed—dry, bitter. "You've been spending too much time around Sky."
He opened his mouth to reply, but she turned away, heading for the locker room doors.
"Tell me when practice is really back," she tossed over her shoulder.
He didn't stop her. Just watched her walk away, shoulders squared like armor.
She was cracking underneath it. But no one would see that.
As Nicole reached for the gym door, Dray's voice cut through the air, sharp and low.
"Nicole."
She paused, hand on the handle, jaw tight.
"Angel's mom."
That made her freeze.
"She's pushing for an investigation," Dray continued. "Police are already poking around. Asking questions."
Nicole slowly turned to face him, her expression unreadable. "So what? You called me back to snitch?"
"No," he said firmly. "I called you back to warn you. They're looking for anyone who was involved. And your name's coming up—fast."
Her throat bobbed, but she kept her voice steady. "You told them something?"
"I told them I didn't know what happened. And I meant it," he said. "But Angel's mom's not letting this go. She's pushing every button she can."
Nicole folded her arms, the gym lights casting shadows on her tense face. "Sky told her, didn't she?"
"I don't know what Sky said. All I know is… if they come asking, this whole school's gonna fold on you. Quick."
Nicole's fingers curled into fists. "Of course. It's easy to blame the girl no one really likes."
"I'm not blaming you," Dray said, stepping closer. "But you need to be ready. Because this—this isn't just hallway drama anymore."
She met his gaze, fire rising behind her calm eyes. "Let them come."
"Nicole—"
"No, really. Let them. I'm tired of pretending to be scared of people who never gave a damn about me."
Dray's jaw tightened. "Just… keep your head down for now, alright? Lay low. You don't need any more heat."
She gave a cold smile. "What I need is to not be the villain in everyone's story just because I survived them."
Without waiting for another word, she turned again and pushed through the gym doors, her footsteps echoing like thunder behind her.
The sun hit her face too hard when she stepped out of the gym. She squinted, pulled her hoodie up over her head, and started toward the school lot. She didn't even know why she came today
The announcement crackled through the intercom just as Nicole was closing her locker.
"Nicole Jackson to the principal's office. Immediately."
Her eyebrows pinched. She hadn't even thrown a punch today.
A few heads turned in the hallway. Some whispers followed, but she ignored them, shutting her locker with a dull clang and slinging her bag over her shoulder.
Nicole walked the hallway with zero urgency, half-tired and already plotting how to skip last period. The front desk secretary barely looked up when she motioned her into the principal's office.
Weird. No lecture. No paperwork. Just a quiet nod.
Nicole stepped in—and froze.
her eyes immediately locked on Marcos.
He was already seated, legs spread like he owned the place, arms crossed, expression calm. Too calm. His gaze slid to her, and he had the audacity to blink—slow, casual—like this was just another Monday.
Nicole didn't flinch. She kept her face still, shoulders squared, but her eyes narrowed slightly at him. Something was off.
"Why am I here?" she asked, cutting straight through the silence.
Principal Vaughn motioned toward the seat beside Marcos. "Sit down, Nicole."
She hesitated for a beat, then walked over and dropped into the chair, keeping one leg crossed over the other. Her body language said: Get to the point.
Principal Vaughn leaned back in her chair, calm—too calm.
tapped her keyboard. The monitor shifted. The sound system clicked.
And then—
A low gasp. A breathless moan.
Nicole's voice. Marcos's mouth. Her legs hooked around his hips. His hand gripping her jaw.
It was intimate. Messy. Wild.
Nicole's eyes stayed glued to the screen for only a second.
Long enough to recognize her tangled up with Marcos on the bathroom floor. Long enough to feel the burn crawl up her spine. But she didn't flinch. Didn't blink.
She leaned back casually, voice cool.
"Isn't a girl allowed to have a personal life after school?"
Principal Vaughn's lips pressed into a line. Vaughn slammed her palm on the desk. "You two think this is a game? That video is all over the school. Students. Parents. Faculty. It's even hit social media. Do you know how many emails I've gotten today?"
"Do you want me to feel bad?" Nicole asked, voice cool. "'Cause I'm still waiting for the part where this is a legal issue."
"It's a reputation issue," Vaughn snapped. "This school doesn't tolerate lewd behavior—especially not when it's caught on camera and passed around like some cheap scandal."
Nicole leaned back, arms crossed. "So expel me. If you're gonna do it, stop monologuing."
Vaughn blinked like she'd just been slapped. Marcos glanced sideways at Nicole, his expression unreadable.
Then he straightened in his seat. "Look, I'm not trying to disrespect the school. I get that it was out of line."
Nicole gave him a sideways look. What the hell was this?
"But," he continued, calm and calculated, "before you make a final decision, I think it's only fair to remember the contributions my family's made to Lincoln. My father's foundation has helped fund your athletic department, the library renovations, and your new security system."
Nicole's eyebrow twitched. Seriously?
Vaughn didn't reply. But she wasn't yelling anymore.
"I'm not asking you to overlook anything," Marcos said smoothly. "Just… give us another chance. Maybe suspension instead. Community service. We'll own it."
Silence stretched.
Then Principal Vaughn sighed, long and
sharp.
"Fine," she said coldly. "Two weeks' suspension."
Nicole tilted her head, unimpressed.
"With mandatory hard labor," Vaughn added, voice sharpening. "You'll report to maintenance. Six a.m. Cafeteria trash duty. Bathrooms. Windows. You're not getting off easy."
Nicole smirked. "You'd be surprised what I can handle."
Vaughn's eyes narrowed. "If either of you miss one day—just one—you'll be expelled. I don't care who your parents are."
She slid the papers across the desk.
"Dismissed."
Nicole stood without a word. Marcos followed, but his jaw was tight.
The hallway was quiet when the office door shut behind them.
Nicole didn't walk far.
She turned fast, stopping Marcos mid-step with a look that could burn skin.
"Alright," she snapped. "What the hell was that video?"
Marcos shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets, eyes flicking away. "I should be asking you the same thing."
"Don't play dumb," she growled. "When did that happen? I don't remember kissing you, rolling around on a damn bathroom floor like it's some porn parody."
Marcos scratched his brow, voice low. "We were both drunk."
She stepped closer, cutting the space between them like a blade. "I don't remember that. And even if I did—you filmed it, Marcos"
Marcos scoffed. "You think I planned that?"
Nicole didn't care about tone control anymore. "Somehow, you're the only one acting like this isn't a big deal."
"And you're the only one acting like we didn't both have our tongues down each other's throats."
That hit too hard.
She moved before she could think.
Shoved him. Hard.
Marcos barely staggered, but his jaw twitched. He stepped forward like he was ready for war.
Marcos barely staggered, but his jaw twitched. He stepped forward like he was ready for war.
"You wanna fight me now?" His voice dropped, dark and mocking. "Gonna hit me 'cause you can't handle your own regrets?I'm not your problem," Marcos said, low and sharp. "Your guilt is. So don't try to dump it on me like I'm the only one who wanted that night to happen."
"You think I regret kissing you?" she fired back. "I regret not slapping you after."
Marcos leaned in, too close, his voice just for her now. "Keep pretending you didn't like it. But that video says different."
Nicole's fist balled.
"Jackson ," Tasha's hand gripped her arm "Enough ." Nicole tried to pull away put the grip was so tight.
But Nicole's fury had already built into a storm. "I swear to God—"
"Enough!"
The principal's voice cracked through the hallway, slicing the air like lightning. Students flinched. Silence fell again.
"Miss Carter," the principal said, walking forward with her arms crossed and murder in her eyes. "One more outburst like that, and your two-week suspension will stretch into a month."
Nicole didn't flinch. She locked eyes with the woman.
Then said coldly, without missing a beat—
"Piss off."
Gasps flared.
Tasha closed her eyes like she'd just watched a car crash in slow motion.
The principal looked ready to combust. "Out. Of. My. School. Now."
Nicole didn't even blink. She turned and walked away like she owned the damn hallway, every step echoing behind her.
Marcos stayed rooted, jaw clenched, eyes watching her go like she was both a curse and a temptation he couldn't shake.
She didn't go home.
Didn't even think about it.
One wrong glance from a student filming in the hallway was enough. One whisper behind her back
"Slut"
One more second pretending she didn't care.
She wasn't doing that today.
So, she walked—off campus, past the gas station, down two blocks, and into a part of town where no one from Lincoln ever bothered to look twice. Her hoodie was up. Her headphones were in. But nothing drowned out the pounding in her chest.
The bar was lowkey. No flashy sign. Just dim windows, and a bouncer who didn't ask questions—probably because he already knew her brother.
She stepped in, letting the cool, bitter air hit her face like a slap. Music thumped in the background, not too loud. Just enough to rattle her ribs.
She found a booth in the corner and sank into it. She didn't ask for a drink. She didn't need one.
She was waiting.
Mark had said he'd be here—something about meeting someone quick in the back office. Said she could chill for ten. Maybe fifteen.
She didn't ask questions. She never did.
Then her eyes flicked up.
And her stomach dropped.
Coach Dray.
Sitting at the far end of the bar, nursing a whiskey and looking just as surprised to see her as she was to see him.
He didn't move. Not at first.
Just raised a brow like you seriously here right now?
Nicole blinked. Looked away.
Great.
Exactly what she needed—her coach, in a bar,
Dray stood slowly, slid off the stool, and made his way toward her booth like he had all the time in the world.
Nicole didn't look up. She just traced a circle on the table with the edge of her nail, pretending not to care.
But her pulse gave her away.
He stopped at her table, hands in his pockets. "Didn't expect to see you here."
She still didn't look at him. "You stalking your students now, Coach?"
He chuckled once, dry. "Relax. I was here with someone. They dipped."
Finally, she looked up. "And now you're here with me?"
He gave a lazy shrug. "You mind?"
She hesitated—just long enough for him to notice—but then gestured at the empty side of the booth.
"Whatever. It's not my bar."
Dray slid in, exhaling like he'd just sat down after a long day of pretending everything was fine. His eyes didn't leave her face.
"You good?"
Nicole tilted her head. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Because half the school wants to crucify you, and the other half just saw you sucking face with Marcos on a bathroom floor."
She scoffed, low. "You say it like I planned that."
"I'm saying it like maybe… you should've."
Nicole turned to him, sharp. "So now you're giving me tips on secret hookups?"
He smirked, leaned back. "Not my business what you do after hours. But you're smart, Nicole. This? That video? Not smart."
She stared at him, hard. "Is this the part where you lecture me? 'Cause I'm not in the mood for some daddy's advice."
Dray leaned forward, elbows on the table. "I've been where you are, feeling like the whole world's got its foot on your neck. I just didn't have the nerve to kiss someone during it."
She held his gaze, defiant. But something in his voice… settled under her skin.
"So what?" she said quietly. "You want to save me now?"
Dray asked, "You waiting for someone?"
"My brother," she muttered. "Said he'd be ten minutes. It's been thirty."
He nodded like that made sense. "You want to wait with someone who won't ask too many questions?"
She looked back at him—really looked.
And for once, she didn't say no.
Dray watched her. Not in that creepy, too-curious way guys usually did—just… watched, like he was piecing something together.
"You always sit in bars alone, waiting on unreliable brothers?"
Nicole smirked faintly. "Only when I've been publicly humiliated and threatened with expulsion. Thought I'd mix things up."
Dray leaned back, arms stretched over the booth. "You really don't flinch, huh?"
"I flinch," she said, grabbing a stray napkin. "Just not for anyone here."
He nodded once. Then, casually, "Come play a game with me."
She glanced at him, skeptical. "What kind of game?"
He pointed toward the back, where a pool table sat under dim hanging lights, mostly ignored. "Eight ball. Loser buys drinks."
Nicole gave him a look. "You're trying to hustle me now?"
He grinned. "Not at all. It's how I deal with stress. Figured you might want to hit something that won't get you suspended."
She snorted. "Fine. But if I win, you stop acting like my part-time therapist."
He stood, grabbing two sticks from the wall. "Deal. But don't get mad when I break first."
Nicole slid out of the booth, grabbing the chalk and twirling it in her fingers. "You talk a lot for someone who's about to lose."
As they walked toward the table, it wasn't flirty. Wasn't serious, either.
Just two people, too tired to lie, letting the silence stretch between them without pressure. No soft confessions. No crying.
Just space.
Nicole leaned over the table, lined up her shot, and missed by an inch.
"Damn."
Dray smirked as he stepped in. "You tense up at the elbow. You play basketball, right? Loosen your wrists."
"You giving coaching tips even off the court?" she said, stepping back.
"Bad habit," he muttered, knocking two solids into the corner pocket like it was nothing.
She raised a brow. "So this is stress relief, huh?"
He chalked his cue again. "You punch people. I play pool. Same energy, just fewer suspension forms."
She straightened and gave him a look. "You talk a lot of trash for someone who teaches gym."
Dray raised an eyebrow. "Gym teacher"
"You're my coach " she said . "You've got that whole 'I scream at kids about drills and hydration' vibe."
He laughed under his breath. "Yeah, I coach the basketball team. But I'm also a student."
Nicole paused, mid-spin. "Student?"
"College," he clarified. "Senior year. Coaching's part of my practicum."
That made her tilt her head. "So you're not just some grumpy grown man with a whistle?"
He smirked. "Grumpy, maybe. Grown? Debatable."
Nicole gave a faint smile, playing it off. "Huh. That's… less weird, I guess."
He leaned against the table, his voice more relaxed now. "You really thought I was ancient, huh?"
"I thought you were at least twenty-eight," she said, blunt as always. "You act like it."
"Stress matures you," he said again, his tone quieter this time.
Nicole tilted her head, smirking. "What kind of stress you got? Missing deadlines on philosophy papers?"
He gave a shrug that didn't answer much. "Family. School. Life. You know."
She rolled her eyes. "God. You act like you've got three kids and a mortgage."
she lined up another shot. "So coaching's your thing?"
"For now. It's how I stay sane. Ball keeps me grounded."
She glanced up. "You sure it's not just an excuse to boss people around?"
He grinned. "That too."
Nicole aimed, shot, and finally sank one. She smiled, small and smug. "Told you I was warming up."
Dray watched her for a second longer than necessary. "Not bad, rookie."
"Don't get soft on me," she warned, brushing past him toward the next shot.
Just then, the door to the back room opened. Jaden stepped out, scanning the place until his eyes landed on her. His brow lifted, like, really?—but he didn't say anything. Not yet.
Nicole stood straighter. "Guess that's my cue."
Dray looked between them but didn't press. "Same time next week?"
She looked over her shoulder, cocking a brow. "You planning our schedule now?"
He smiled. "Only if you keep showing up."
Jaden didn't speak right away. He just nodded at Dray, then turned back to Nicole with that unreadable older-brother look that made her want to throw something.
Dray gave a casual wave. "Later, rookie."
Nicole didn't respond. She walked past him, head high, like she hadn't just spent the last hour lowkey enjoying herself.