3rd Person POV
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The boys' locker room buzzed with its usual pre-practice chaos, metal lockers slamming shut, rubber soles squeaking against the tile, and laughter echoing from the hallway.
Adrien stood at his locker, head down, pulling on his basketball jersey, but his moves were sluggish. His mind wasn't on the game; it was tangled up in thoughts about Rachel, this mysterious woman who somehow had given his mom L.S.'s number.
He couldn't recall his mom ever mentioning a friend named Rachel. Not once. Sure, she had coworkers, but none stuck in his memory. As he tugged the jersey over his head, his brows furrowed, and he couldn't shake the nagging thought that maybe his dad would have some answers.
If not, he'd have to drive back to Clearwater to find out more. He didn't want to, but the uncertainty ate at him, and he couldn't shake the gut feeling that Rachel wasn't just some casual acquaintance.
