LAYLA'S POV
I stab my fork into the beef on my plate, fingers tightening around the handle.
Two tables away, a group of girls keep giggling and throwing not-so-subtle glances my way, making it obvious that I’m the topic of their discussion.
I catch Edward’s name between their whispers, and it confirms my suspicions. This is about Amber. About the little spectacle she staged this morning.
Apparently, everyone in data science thinks I drugged Edward who’s probably more than 220 pounds and forced him to mark me. Like, sure. I mean, if they believe that, I could sell them the moon.
And if it was that easy to drug Edward, I’m pretty sure one of them would have done it already.
But no. It’s easier to sit there, talk trash, and dump their insecurities on me like I don’t already have en
