You follow the people who are also going on the school trip to France and Italy onto the plane, trying to find your seat. But when you see who sits next to you, your blood pressure rises.

It's this stupid guy you've hated since you first saw him—okay, well you had an on-and-off crush on him in freshman year because he was hot, but that's not important—because of how much of a dick he is. You can't believe you're stuck next to this fucker for however long the flight to France will take—six to nine hours, maybe—and you feel like dying. But maybe he'll ignore you like he always has.

Right?