Driving Home –
The cold air hit her arms as she stepped outside. Nicole rubbed her hands together, eyes scanning the sidewalk until she spotted Jaden's car parked across the street. Mark leaned against the hood, arms crossed, hoodie up, looking like a bouncer who hated his job.
"You good?" he asked once she reached him.
"Yeah. "
Jaden didn't say a word. He just unlocked it. The three of them slid in — Nicole in the back, Mark riding shotgun.
As soon as the doors shut, Nicole leaned forward. "So Dray told me something."
Mark groaned. "What now, he trying to run for mayor?"
"No. He said Angel's mom is launching a full investigation into what happened to her that day. Like—real cops, lawyers, maybe even school board stuff."
Jaden grip tightened on the wheel. "Because of the fight?"
"She's in a coma," Nicole said. "Apparently… Angel was already a patient. Some condition. Nobody knew. Now they're acting like we did this on purpose."
Mark swore under his breath.
"She's saying whoever laid hands on Angel pushed her over the edge. Like it's attempted manslaughter or something."
Nicole stared out the window, jaw tense. "I'm scared I might go to jail."
The words slipped out low, almost like a secret. Like they'd hurt her to admit.
"You're not going to jail," Jaden said quickly, voice sharp.
Mark nodded, jaw clenched. "Not happening. If anyone's coming for you, they're coming through us."
"But you don't get it," Nicole snapped. "She's in a coma, Mark. People hate me already. You really think they won't believe it was my fault?"
Silence filled the car.
"I just… I don't even know what to do when I get back to school," she added quietly.
Mark finally said, "Then you keep your head up and say nothing until we figure this out. Let her mom dig. We've handled worse."
But even as he said it, none of them looked convinced.
Jaden's car rolled to a slow stop in the driveway.
Mark leaned forward between the seats. "Wait… is that Dad's car?"
Nicole narrowed her eyes. "Didn't he say he was out of town for some 'urgent deal'?"
Jaden shifted in park. "Yeah. Weird."
they stepped out of the car, the front door swung open like a setup. Out came Alex, with that fake polished smile she wore too often. And beside her—Chelsea glowing like she just walked off a red carpet. Her tight dress clung to her like a second skin, deep neckline, high slit—too much for a night .
Nicole blinked once. "What the hell is this? Family fashion week?"
Jaden muttered, "Keep it together…"
Then their father appeared. Button-down undone like he hadn't planned to be seen. His eyes went wide when he saw them.
"Didn't know you'd be home this early."
"We live here," Jaden snapped.
Alex let out a soft, uncomfortable chuckle. "We just got back in this afternoon. Thought we'd surprise you."
"Yeah," Mark said under his breath. "You did."
Nicole folded her arms, not moving. "Thought you were out of town."
"I was," he said, clearing his throat. "Plans changed."
"No kidding," Jaden said, walking up behind Nicole. "You didn't even call."
Alex stepped forward. "We were just about to eat. You can join—"
"We're good," Nicole cut in, voice dry. "We ate. At a bar."
Chelsea smirked. "How classy."
Nicole's eyes snapped to her. "Is there a problem?"
"Alright," their dad said, tone suddenly authoritative, "Enough."
But Nicole didn't move. "No, really. What are we walking into here? You go MIA for a week and come back playing house with your girlfriend and her daughter—who, by the way, is walking around like she's trying to
seduce the walls."
"Nicole," Jaden warned.
"No, she's right," Mark added. "This is a damn circus."
Their father sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Can we talk inside?"
Nicole turned her back. "You can. I'm going to my room."
She didn't wait to hear his reply.
"Nicole!"
His voice sliced through the house the second she stepped inside.
She didn't stop. Just kept walking, like her ears were broken.
"Nicole!" he tried again, following her down the hallway. His steps were too calm. That fake calm he used when he was trying not to snap. Nicole dropped her hoodie on the floor and kicked off her shoes without looking at him.
She turned halfway up the stairs. Her eyes met his. Flat. Cold.
"By the way, you're gonna be getting a call from the school soon."
"What?" he blinked.
"There's a video," she said. "It's all over the internet. It's me. With a guy. Don't worry—we didn't have sex. Yet."
The silence hit like a slap. He didn't move. Just stared at her like he forgot how to breathe.
Nicole tilted her head. "You done?"
He didn't answer.
"Cool." She turned and kept walking. "Night, Dad."
The door to her room clicked shut behind her.
And then silence again. The kind that crawled up the walls and sat in your chest.
Downstairs, her dad finally exhaled.
Then, low and bitter, her father muttered, "That's what you get for raising a teenage girl with no mom."
Alex stood by the kitchen archway, arms crossed, trying not to look offended. Failing.
"I can help," she said softly, stepping closer. "Maybe if I talk to her—"
He turned to her slowly, jaw clenched. "You and everyone in this damn house knows exactly how much she hates you."
Alex blinked. Swallowed. Her arms dropped to her sides.
He didn't wait for a response. Just walked off and left the room.
A second later, his bedroom door slammed shut down the hall.
And the house was quiet again.
Alex hesitated for a second like she was debating whether to speak again. Then she followed him, heels clicking lightly against the wood floor.
"Wait, Oscar," she said, voice low and desperate as she disappeared down the hall after him.
Mark stood in the middle of the living room, his face blank. "I'm not dealing with this." He turned and vanished into his room, door swinging shut without a sound.
That left just two.
Jaden and Chelsea.
She was still sitting pretty on the edge of the couch, legs crossed like she owned the damn night. Her eyes found him—slow, sweet, and dangerous.
"Hello, handsome," she said. A slow smile tugged at her lips. "I've missed you."
Jaden didn't say a word.
Didn't need to.
In two steps, he was on her—hands in her hair, mouth on her lips, like he'd been starving for her.
Chelsea arched up to meet him, fingers yanking at the hem of his shirt as they crashed into each other.
Hungry.
Wild. Jaden didn't stop kissing her. Didn't come up for air. His hands were already sliding under her shirt.
Chelsea gasped against his mouth, pulling him closer, thighs parting so he could settle between them.
"You're still mad at me," she whispered, breath catching. "Aren't you?"
He didn't answer.
Just kissed her harder. Chelsea pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere behind the couch. Her fingers ran down his chest like she was trying to remind herself what he felt like. Her hands fumbled at the waistband of his sweats, and he didn't stop her. But just as her fingers dipped lower, his forehead pressed to hers—eyes shut tight like he was fighting himself from the inside out.
"I shouldn't be doing this," he muttered.
"But you are," Chelsea whispered, tugging him closer. "So don't stop now."
His mouth found hers again, And in the thick, pulsing silence of the living room—they gave in.
Hard. Fast.
And unforgivably familiar.
Lincoln High
Nicole stepped out of her dad's car without a word. No goodbye, no good luck. Just slammed the door and kept walking.
Back entrance. No crowd. No hallway stares. She wasn't allowed through the front anymore.
The sun was barely up, but she already felt like the day was out to get her. Hoodie up. Face blank. Her boots crunched across the gravel as she approached the maintenance yard.
He was already there.
Marcos.
Sitting on an upside-down bucket like it was a throne, sleeves rolled up, one leg stretched long, hair tied back half-assed like he couldn't bother to finish the job. A lit cigarette dangled from his fingers, which she was pretty sure broke about five rules already.
When he saw her, he smirked. Just a little. Like this was all one big inside joke.
"Morning, partner."
Nicole didn't answer. Just looked at him, then down at the mop bucket waiting for her like punishment on wheels.
"You're late," came a voice behind her.
Mr. Frank.
He stepped into view like the day couldn't begin without his presence.
"I told both of you—7:30 sharp. Not 7:45. Not whenever you feel like being sinners again."
Marcos blew out smoke. "We're already branded. Might as well enjoy the heat."
Frank's jaw twitched. "You wanna mop the locker room drains next? I can arrange it."
Nicole dropped her bag by the wall. "I'm here now. Let's get this over with."
Mr. Frank eyed them both like they were filth stuck to the edge of his shiny job title. "You two will clean the gym floor, the bleachers, and the back hallway. No talking. No touching. No bullsh*t."
Then he turned and walked off like he couldn't stand breathing the same air.
Nicole grabbed the mop bucket without looking at Marcos. "You always flirt with your suspension officers?"
Marcos stood, flicking his cigarette to the pavement and grinding it out with his heel. "Only the pretty ones."
The gym echoed with the sound of squeaky sneakers and distant shouting from P.E. class outside. But inside, it was just them—Nicole pushing the mop down the court like she was scrubbing out a crime scene, and Marcos dragging a trash bag behind him, collecting empty water bottles and candy wrappers like it was beneath him.
Because it was.
He muttered under his breath as he walked past her. "You missed a spot."
Nicole didn't even look up. "So mop it yourself, golden boy."
He stopped, grinned to himself, and turned. "You know, I figured you'd be the grateful type. I made you famous, after all."
She snapped her head up, eyes sharp. "You made yourself pathetic. I just happened to be there."
He dropped the bag, leaned against the bleachers, arms crossed—casual, amused, infuriating. "Still blaming me for kissing you?"
Nicole's jaw flexed. "Still pretending you ain't obsessed with the kiss?"
He went quiet.
Not smug. Not angry. Just… watching her.
"Whatever," she muttered, turning back to her mop. "You're not that deep."
He tilted his head. "No. But you were drowning anyway."
She slammed the mop into the bucket harder than she meant to. Water sloshed. The air tightened.
"I didn't ask to be dragged into your stupid mess," she said.
"And I didn't ask to get benched for a girl who can't keep her hands to herself."
They locked eyes.
For a second, all the noise outside vanished. Just hardwood, bleach, and bad decisions between them.
Then Nicole turned away. "Don't talk to me unless it's about trash."
Marcos scoffed, grabbed the bag again, and kept walking. "Then start talking, sweetheart. You've got a lot of it to clean up."
The mop sloshed through dirty water. Nicole's sleeves were rolled, jaw set, trying to pretend like this was Just another quiet day in hell.
Across the gym, Marcos leaned against the bleachers, phone in hand, typing something with his usual smirk.
Then he paused. Tilted his head. Listened.
Nicole heard it too—heavy footsteps echoing in the hallway. Muffled voices. Deep. Male. Not staff.
Police.
Her spine went stiff.
Marcos looked up, slow and deliberate, one brow raised. "Cops in a high school. Classy."
Nicole didn't answer.
He kept going. "Bet it's about Angel. Poor girl got worked. Real bad. Like… hospital bad."
Her stomach twisted.
Still, she didn't flinch.
Marcos looked her over, watching. "They're probably asking who did it. You know anything about that, princess?"
She dropped the mop. Walked to the double doors of the gym like it meant nothing. Just a stretch. Just a break.
But her breath was shaky.
She cracked the door an inch.
Outside, two officers stood by the front office. Mr. Frank was there, arms crossed. The principal too. Tense. The cops were talking fast, firm—asking for someone. She leaned in.
Then she heard it.
Her name.
Nicole flinched. Just for a second.
She backed up fast, heart punching her ribs. Marcos noticed. Didn't move, but his head tilted slightly. Confused. Watching.
She paced to the equipment room door, eyes darting.
No plan.
Just run.
"Why are they looking for you?" Marcos asked, slow and sharp now.
Nicole didn't answer. She was already slipping into the shadows of the back storage room, Nicole barely got the door shut before a foot wedged between it.
She shoved hard, but it didn't budge.
"Move, Marcos," she hissed.
He didn't.
She tried again—harder—but he shoved the door open, forcing his way in. The handle slammed against the wall behind it as he stepped into the small, shadowy space.
Nicole backed up fast, her shoulder hitting the shelf of deflated basketballs.
"I said get out."
He closed the door behind him like he owned the room. Like this was his idea of fun.
"You're hiding," he said flatly. "And the cops are asking for you. Which means you're either guilty… or stupid."
He didn't move. "why the hell are you in here like some hunted girl in a Netflix special?"
Nicole turned away from him, pulled out her phone fast, and typed.
Cops looking for me at school. Where are you?
Sent to Jaden.
No reply.
Of course.
She tucked the phone back in her waistband just as Marcos stepped closer again, not bothering to lower his voice.
"Who were you texting?" he asked.
Nicole glanced at the door. Voices.
Getting closer.
"Mind your business," she hissed.
He smirked. "You did it didn't you ?"
"Shut up."
She didn't have time for him. The gym door creaked open. Footsteps entered.
Nicole acted fast—too fast to second-guess it.
She grabbed Marcos by the collar, yanked him down, and kissed him.
Hard.
It wasn't soft, it wasn't sweet. It was messy and sharp—like a warning.
He froze at first. Then… his hand slid to her waist, like he was more than fine with this little distraction. He kissed her back without hesitation. but she let it happen. She needed it to look real.
Just in case.
She kept her lips pressed against Marcos's just long enough for the door to creak open behind them.
Silence. Then—Mr. Frank's voice. Dry. Sharp. Disgusted.
"Unbelievable."
She didn't move. Neither did Marcos.
They just stayed there—locked in the act like it meant something.
Then the door clicked shut again.
Nicole pulled away, breathing hard. Marcos looked stunned, maybe even impressed.
Outside the storage room, they heard Mr. Frank's voice bark down the hallway.
"Nope, not here either. Looks like they left school already."
Then a pause.
"Yeah, a student texted me. Said he saw her walking toward the back exit."
Nicole stared at the door, her pulse in her throat.
He was lying.
Flat out.
Covering for her.
Covering for them.
She turned toward Marcos, who looked almost like he wanted to laugh.
"Guess we're not expelled today," he said.
Nicole ignored him. She grabbed her phone again, thumbs flying.
Jaden. Where the hell are you. The cops came. Mr. Frank just saved my ass.
Still no response.
She shoved the phone away
Marcos started . "You gonna tell me what the hell's going on?"
"No," she snapped. "I kissed you so you'd shut up. Don't ruin it by talking now."
She hovered near the gym doors, hand on the cool metal handle, listening for footsteps. Voices. Anything.
Silence.
Marcos leaned against the wall behind her, arms crossed, watching her like she was some episode he didn't want to pause.
"You're not gonna peek?" he said low, almost amused.
She shook her head. "What if they're still there? You want to get caught for real this time?"
He shrugged. "Kinda already did. Frank saw us."
"Yeah—and he lied for us. Don't make it pointless."
She turned away from the door and paced. Her sneakers squeaked against the floor.
Her phone buzzed.
Jaden: I'm in the lot. You need to move now or not at all.
Nicole's stomach dropped. She glanced toward the exit.
"Parking lot's a risk," she muttered.
Marcos stepped closer. "You really scared, huh?"
She glared at him. " why don't you shut up?."
He grinned.
Nicole was halfway through the gym door when a hand wrapped around her wrist and yanked her back hard.
"What the hell—" she started,
"Wait," he said, voice low but serious now—none of that smug edge he always wore.
She shoved him off instantly, her palm hitting his chest with enough force to make him stumble. "Don't touch me."
Marcos caught his balance, but didn't move away.
"the day it happened—she was with me."
Nicole froze.
"I was with Angel that day," he went on, eyes locked on hers. "She got a text from Sky — 'Meet me . Next day, she's in a coma."
Nicole didn't breathe.
"You think they won't figure it out?" he pressed. "You and Sky both had beef with her. Cops are already here. Her mom's not backing off. She's digging. That's enough evidence for you to get locked up"
Silence.
Then Nicole's spine straightened.
She didn't blink. Didn't shake.
Instead, she tilted her head, voice icy.
"You really wanna talk about what people know, Marcos?"
His jaw twitched.
She stepped closer, eyes sharp as knives.
"You wanna play this game?" Her voice dropped. "Because I know you and Angel drugged me."
His face changed. Subtle—but it changed.
Nicole didn't stop.
"I woke up outside my house. Dizzy. You were the last person I saw. You kissed me in that bathroom. You touched me while I couldn't stand straight. You really think if I tell them this you'll get away"
Marcos was silent now.
Nicole's voice cut through the air, calm but lethal. "That's enough evidence for you to shut the hell up.
This time, he didn't stop her.
She stormed toward the gym door, heart pounding like thunder, but her face? Ice cold.
She wasn't the scared girl hiding in storage anymore.
She was a damn weapon.
The side hallway was quiet. Too quiet.
Nicole moved fast, hoodie up, backpack slung low, eyes sharp on every exit.
Nicole's phone buzzed as she crept past the last stairwell near the gym exit.
Sky: Meet me behind the school. Now. Just you.
Her stomach sank.
Nicole pushed through the emergency door and slipped around the corner into the alley behind the school. Cold air. Rusted vents. Dumpsters. It felt like the kind of place people went to smoke—or start fights.
Sky stood near the fence, arms crossed, eyes locked on the gravel like she hated it.
Nicole slowed as she approached. "You texted?"
Sky didn't look up. "Just wanted to be clear."
"Clear about what?"
Sky finally looked at her. No softness. Just that sharp edge that always came out when she was cornered.
"I didn't tell the cops anything that would get you locked up."
"But don't think that means I did it for you."
A beat passed.
"You're pissed."
Sky scoffed. "I'm done, Nicole."
Nicole flinched.
Sky kept going. "You dragged me into your war. Angel's in a coma. Her mom's breathing down everyone's neck. Cops are crawling the halls. And you're acting like we're still in the same orbit."
Nicole narrowed her eyes. "You were there too."
"I regret that every damn day," Sky hissed. "And if you had any sense, you'd've stayed gone."
Nicole stepped closer. "So that's it?"
Sky nodded slowly. "That's it."
"I thought we—"
"You thought wrong," Sky snapped. "I don't want your chaos. I don't want your friendship. Stay out of my life, Nicole. Off my lane."
Nicole's chest tightened, but she nodded once.
Sky gave her one last look—almost like an apology that never made it to her mouth—then turned and walked back toward the building.
Nicole stood there, letting the silence close in.
Then she pulled out her phone.
Texted Jaden:
"Pick me up. Now."
The car was already parked outside the alley when she got there.
Nicole yanked the door open and slid into the back seat without a word.
Jaden looked at her through the rearview, jaw tight. Mark was in the passenger seat, chewing gum like it was the only thing keeping him from blowing up.
No one said anything. The air felt like a bomb ticking down.
Nicole finally broke the silence. "You heard?"
"Everyone heard," Mark muttered. "Cops showing up mid-day like it's some Netflix crime doc."
Jaden pulled out of the parking lot, eyes fixed on the road. "Angel's mom's on a warpath. She's asking for names. Her daughter's in a coma, Nic. That's serious."
Nicole didn't respond right away. Her gaze stayed locked on the blur outside the window. "Sky bailed."
Jaden glanced at her through the mirror. "What do you mean?"
"She said she doesn't want anything to do with me. Said she didn't tell the cops anything… yet." Nicole's voice was flat. "Told me to stay out of her life."
Mark blew a slow breath through his nose. "Damn."
Nicole leaned back, crossing her arms tight over her chest. "This is spiraling."
"It already spiraled," Jaden muttered. "We're just the ones crawling through the wreckage."
They fell silent again.
Mark shifted in his seat, turned halfway to look at her. "You didn't leave anything behind, right? No blood, no prints, no clothes?"
Nicole narrowed her eyes. "What do you think I am? Stupid?"
"I think you're reckless."
Jaden spoke before it turned ugly. "We'll figure it out. Just keep your head low. No fights. No more drama."
Nicole looked down at her hands. Her knuckles still had the faintest scrape from that night.
Too late for no drama.
Way too late.
"You didn't reply," she said flatly. "I texted you when the cops showed. You left me on read?"
Jaden's jaw twitched. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel.
Mark side-eyed him. "Yeah, bro. What was that about?"
Jaden didn't answer right away. His silence was louder than yelling.
"I was handling it," he finally muttered.
Nicole leaned forward. "Handling what, exactly? I was five seconds from getting dragged out of school in cuffs."
Jaden's eyes cut to the rearview mirror. "You think I wasn't already on the phone trying to figure out who they talked to? I needed to know what they knew before I responded and made it worse."
Nicole stared at him for a beat. "So you ghosted me for my own good?"
"Exactly."
She scoffed and leaned back again. "Next time, just say that. Instead of making me think you were pissed or—"
"I am pissed," Jaden said, sharper now. "You and Sky crossed a line that can't be uncrossed. And now it's not just school drama. It's police. Investigations. Parents. This could ruin everything."
Nicole looked out the window, jaw clenched, throat tight. "I know."
Mark, quiet for once, just stared straight ahead.
Jaden exhaled slowly. "We'll figure it out. But I need you to stop keeping me in the dark, Nic. If we're going to get through this—we all need to be on the same damn page."
Nicole didn't answer.
But this time, she heard him.