Oh. My. Gods. - Weebly

take a calming breath. I’ve decided on brutal honesty at this point,
there’s no stopping now.
“I actually started to believe that Griffin liked me—me, the lowly
little nothos—when no one else in your high and mighty cliques
would do more than look at me with scorn.” I blink against the tears
now filling my eyes. “And the worst part is that I was actually starting
to like him, the real him. Or at least what I thought was the real
him. And come to find out he was only playing a part, too.”
That’s what hurts the most. Not the bet or the deal or any of that.
It’s that they’re right about me. I really am so weak that I would fall
for a guy who’d done nothing but treat me like scum since I got to
this stupid school without even putting up much of a fight.
I’m pathetic, and that’s what really hurts.
“Phoebe,” Stella says, an unnatural softness to her usually icy voice.
I’m prepared for a scathing comment.
Instead, she walks around the table to stand right in front of me,
and says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how much—” She shakes her
head and starts again. “I know how much unrequited love can hurt.
If I had known you had any real feeling for him . . .”
I am floored beyond belief. Stella is exhibiting real honest-togoodness
sympathy, an emotion I believed her incapable of.
That, and she’s apologized.
I almost feel like checking out the windows for flying pigs.
“If it helps any,” she says quietly, “it wasn’t my idea.”
“It doesn’t,” I say, mostly because I’m not surprised. Sure Stella’s
right up there with the evil bi’atches in history, but she doesn’t
hold a candle to Adara.
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