Sienna’s POV

Rumors have a way of spreading like wildfire, and the halls of our campus are soaked in gasoline, metaphorically. It only takes one spark.

By Monday morning, the whispers follow me like a shadow. I can feel them, brushing against the back of my neck, curling under my collar. The worst part is I don’t even know where they started. All that I know is that when I walked into the lecture this morning, the girl two rows ahead nudges her friend and murmurs something, and both of ...