Freya's POV
Some signatures didn't need signing.
One glance at the grainy photo was enough. The dim background. The rust-colored tile. My shirt half-ripped, my face partially turned, and David's drunk frame towering too close for comfort.
I had to hand it to Stella—the girl knew her angles. If I weren't the one in the shot, I'd swear those two were getting freaky in the club bathroom.
But I remembered that moment exactly—his sour breath on my cheek. My fists slamming into his chest. The panic. The fight. The way I'd screamed, shoved, and kicked until I could run.
How dark did Stella's heart have to be to post this—and in the general student forum, no less? Of all the ways she could've gotten even, she chose this. She could've screamed at me in public, spread rumors, hell, she could've
