I woke up with the kind of dread that usually precedes a root canal. The mere thought of stepping onto that campus—facing Stella’s venom, Blake’s heavy handed cruelty, or the unpredictable, magnetic nightmare that was Daniel Connor made me want to bury myself under my duvet and never come out.
"Ivory, darling! You’d better hurry up or else you’ll be late!" Mom’s voice floated up the stairs, followed closely by the heavenly, buttery scent of pancakes.
My stomach let out a traitorous, thunderous growl. I guess my survival instincts were no match for breakfast. I scrambled into my clothes, pulled my hair back, and practically floated down the stairs, tapping a rhythm on the banister.
"Baking pancakes, baking, baking pancakes," I hummed, trying to fake a mood I didn't possess.
"You seem to
