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S
eriously. What a fucking bitch. Her personality was just that terrible. I’d been wrong. Maybe the glimpses of nice I’d seen were an act. Who the hell knew?

I was fuming when I got home and that made my parents go into a panic and have another one of their little “interventions” with me. Any time I showed any sort of excessive negative emotions, they sat me down and had a “chat.”

I wanted to tell them that I was fine, just annoyed. That I wasn’t secretly depressed, or cutting my wrists, or hiding an eating disorder. In addition to being human helicopters, they were also hyper-hypochondriacs. Everything had the potential to be life-threatening, from a cold to a slammed door. When I was younger I used to wish at every birthday and every Christmas that I would get a sibling that they could focus on. Never happened and I was pretty sure that ship had sailed a long time ago.

Once I got them off my back and assured them that I was not going to hurt myself or anyone else, I barricaded myself in my room to fume.

I didn’t know why she drove me so crazy. Just . . .  everything she said and did just . . .

Fuck.

I could pretend the little fluttery feeling in my chest wasn’t there, but that wouldn’t make it go away. I . . .  liked her. Or something.

I didn’t know why. I didn’t know when it had started, but there it was. I liked her in a way that made me wonder how soft her lips would feel and if her hair was silky to the touch. It made me think of lots of other things too. Things that made me want to get in the shower and spend some time alone.

Dangerous. Those were very dangerous thoughts that I should not be having, but there really wasn’t any way to stop them. They were happening and I had to just get through it. I was stuck with Stella for the foreseeable future, unless I dropped out of AP English, but that wasn’t an option.

I’d just have to keep a lid on it. Keep it to myself. It was just a little crush (I hated even calling it that) and I could handle it. I was a nearly grown-ass woman and I could deal with a tiny crush on a terrible girl.

I could deal.

I
t didn’t hurt that she was so cold. If she’d been nice to me, I might have liked her more. Or maybe not. Verbally sparring with her was kind of sexy.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Somehow the two of us got through the week without killing one another and I managed to not do anything that would have let her know how I felt. She pulled back a lot, but wasn’t as critical. She’d press her lips together and I knew she was trying not to say something she wanted to say.

Friday night was another home game and I was there on the bleachers in the front row with Grace. And there was Stella, her hair up high and a smile on her face. It was a little funny that she was so frigid most of the time, but chose a sport like cheerleading to excel in.

And holy shit, did she excel. Flips and stunts and all kinds of stuff that made me think about all kinds of things. My face was probably beet red the entire game, but I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

Fortunately, she seemed oblivious of me. Except for one moment when she was front and center, leading a cheer where the crowd had to respond. Her blue eyes seared into me for one moment and then slid back to scan the rest of the crowd.

Fuck with a side of fuck.

Grace didn’t say much during the game, and I realized she was upset about something. Her eyebrows were drawn together in a constant frown and I decided that I had to get my head out of my own ass and be a best friend.

“You okay?” I asked, touching her arm when we went to get sodas at halftime.

“Yeah, sure,” she said, totally unconvincing.

“I’m sorry I’ve been distracted. What’s up with you?” I turned her to face me and she wouldn’t look at me. Yup, something was definitely bothering her.

“It’s my parents. They’re being stupid about college. They want me to get a ‘sensible’ degree.” She used her fingers to put air quotes around sensible.

“And what does that mean?” She sighed and rubbed her hand through her hair.

“I don’t know, business or something? Pre-law? Pre-med? Anything with the word ‘pre’ in it? Not art or music or anything like that. And don’t even get them started on journalism or graphic design.” Now this, I could relate to.

“You’ve met my parents, right? They’re going to flip their shit if I don’t get a PhD in something fancy and have a six-figure starting salary.” Not because they wanted me to be rich, but because they wanted me to be
secure
. Their word, not mine. I had no idea what the hell I wanted to do, and that was a serious problem for them.

“Yeah, I know. It just sucks when I think they’re going to let me do what I want, but then lay down the hammer. They’re saying that they’ll only pay for school if I major in something they approve.” Well. That sucked. My parents didn’t have a whole lot of money to send me to college, so I was going to have to rely on a lot of scholarships, which was one of the reasons I took so many AP classes and had taken the SATs four times to get a good enough score to qualify for more than a few. I was going to be spending a hell of a lot of time writing essays and so forth after I applied. Just my idea of a good time.

“Hey, you still have a lot of time. And do you honestly believe that they won’t support you financially if you become an artist? Please. You’re going to be amazing at whatever you do, Grace.” I slung my arm around her shoulder and she leaned her head against mine.

“You always make things sound easier than they are, but I totally appreciate it,” she said.

I heard a throat clear behind us and I turned to find Stella there, with one exquisite eyebrow raised.

“Can I help you in some way?” I said, trying to sound as icy as she did.

“No, you’re just holding up the line,” she fired back. I had no idea what she was talking about and then I realized Grace and I had been kinda holding up the line.

“Sorry not sorry,” I fired at Stella and then moved to the counter to order.

Stella definitely muttered something under her breath, but I didn’t quite catch it.

“So I guess she hasn’t sweetened any,” Grace said as we walked back to the bleachers. Everyone else was deep in conversation about the upcoming Fall Formal, so I let myself be drawn into that conversation.

“Are you going to ask someone?” Grace said, a weird look on her face.

“No, why would I? I haven’t had a date to any of the other dances, why start now?” Our group always went together and I didn’t see a reason to mess with tradition.

“No reason. But if there was someone you wanted to take, you could, you know.”

“I know,” I said, slowly.

“Okay,” she said, giving me one last look before turning to Paige and asking if she’d gotten her dress yet and if we should plan a shopping trip for the next weekend. I agreed, even though I had a perfectly cute dress already in my closet that I’d bought last summer. I needed a weekend that didn’t involve football, Stella, or my parents.

I
was twitchy on Saturday and Sunday, constantly checking my phone. I told myself it wasn’t because of Stella, but that was a huge lie. I didn’t know why I wanted her to text me, because it would probably be something mean anyway. There was no way I was going to text her anything. Not even if my house was on fire.

Still, I typed out a few terrible messages and then deleted them. I cringed at myself and went back to watching re-runs of Buffy.

“S
o, did you finish the edits I suggested?” Stella said to me on Monday. We’d nearly finished, but she still wasn’t satisfied. I was beginning to think that nothing ever satisfied Stella Lewis, but that wasn’t my problem.

“I did, but I really don’t think that comma belongs there,” I said. We’d had a comma battle last week that had almost ended in bloodshed. I’d even gone so far as to look it up online and print out a few articles that proved I was right. I had them in my bag, ready to show her.

But then she did something that had me so shocked I almost fell off my chair.

“You’re right.”

I sputtered for a second.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that for the people in the back?” I said, cupping my hand to my ear.

She rolled her eyes and then narrowed them.

“You heard me. I’m not going to say it again, so drop it.” I couldn’t contain the laugh that bubbled out of my mouth.

“You don’t like being wrong, do you?” She looked back down at her notebook and turned a page of her notes.

“It doesn’t happen very often. I’m nearly always right.”

“Wow, you should really work on your self-esteem issues, Stella,” I said and she gave a little start when I used her name. I couldn’t seem to stop using it whenever I could. It was a pretty name for a pretty girl.

“I can’t help it if I’m right. It just happens,” she said and I almost caught a smile.

“What a hardship for you,” I said, but I realized that we were teasing each other. Holy shit, I was flirting with her.

I was flirting with Stella and she was kinda flirting back.

What the fuck was even happening?

The moment died when she brushed her hair back and turned toward me.

“Now. About the presentation.” We were back to business.