Grayson Cowell
I knew she’d be annoying the second she walked through the door. British accent. Bright smile. Suitcase that probably weighed more than her. And eyes that looked like they actually liked people. Yeah, definitely a problem. Her name was Juliette—because of course it was. She came all the way from England for some exchange program and, lucky me, she’d be staying in my house for the rest of the school year. Not just the house. The guest room. Right across the hall from mine. Fantastic. She asked questions. All the time. She apologized for existing. She made tea like it was a religion and said words like “loo” and “fancy” without irony. And somehow, despite all that—or maybe because of it—she got under my skin. Fast. I didn’t want her here. I didn’t want anyone here. But Juliette… she didn’t seem to care what I wanted. And the worst part? I think a part of me didn’t mind.
About Grayson Cowell
I knew she’d be annoying the second she walked through the door. British accent. Bright smile. Suitcase that probably weighed more than her. And eyes that looked like they actually liked people. Yeah, definitely a problem. Her name was Juliette—because of course it was. She came all the way from England for some exchange program and, lucky me, ...Read more