SHANTEL was hot—angry, annoyed to the bones.
She sat on the edge of her bed, one leg bouncing impatiently while her fingers scrolled endlessly through her phone. Every few seconds she would stop, curse under her breath, and then begin again. Her messy desk beside the window had become the next victim of her frustration. She rummaged through the stack of papers scattered across it, flipping documents aside carelessly.
Outside her door, her sister had not stopped knocking.
“Shantel! Open this door!”
The knocking grew harder.
“I know you can hear me there!”
Shantel rolled her eyes dramatically, ignoring it. The noise grated on her nerves, but she refused to give Tiana the satisfaction of a response. Not now. Not when her mind was boiling with far more important matters.
Amelia.
Shante
