Stella was a straight up bitch. I had only ever had one class with her freshman year; since then we hadn’t had much contact, except for last week when we’d kept colliding. Grace was right, though. She was an asshole. I was still mad about her “helping” me without asking when I met up with Grace for lunch. “Whoa, you look like you’re super pissed. What happened?” “Stella Lewis is now in my English class. For some reason. No idea how that happened, but she said her dad was an English professor so maybe he pulled some strings for her or something. Basically it means that she’s going to be glaring at me and giving me the cold shoulder for the rest of the year,” I said, barely taking a breath. I’d been holding onto that rant since I left class. “Tell me how you really feel, Ky,” Grace said, slinging her arm around my shoulder. “She’s just so irritating,”
