Page 89 of Perfect on Paper

“Apparently.” He took another mouthful and chewed thoughtfully. “I mean, I never put in anything because I assumed it was some straight white girl answering them.” He nodded at me, his eyes twinkling. “Half right.”

I grinned. “Would you have, if you’d known it was me?”

Finn snorted. “Darcy, I like you a lot, but you don’t have therange.No offense, but if I’ve got a question about, like, a guy wanting to come to my cousin’s wedding with me when some of my extended family’s still in denial about me being gay, I’m not exactly desperate for advice from someone who doesn’t know the first thing about my life or what it’s like to be Korean American. Like, what the fuck would you know, you know?”

He said it all very pleasantly, conversationally, but it wasn’t exactly what I’d expected him to say. For once, though, keeping Brougham’s words from the weekend in mind, I clamped down on the instinct to defend myself. Instead, I shrugged a single shoulder. “Well, that’s probably fair.”

But Finn had already lost interest in the conversation. He’d leaned his head in toward Brougham, whose gaze was somewhere else. I followed their eyes, but I couldn’t see what they were looking at. Just students. No one was acting out of the ordinary as far as I could tell.

“Jack’s looking over here,” Finn said under his breath.

“I noticed.” Brougham’s tone was light.

I had no idea who Jack was, but I looked again with this in mind. Now I did see a stocky guy with red hair giving Brougham the side-eye. When he caught me looking over, he turned his attention promptly back to his food.

“Still salty about the prom fight,” Finn said.

I perked up. This was the first prom-related gossip I’d been privy to, given basically everyone hated me. “Ooh, what prom fight?”

Finn gave me a funny look and quirked his head to the side. “Uh, Brougham’s?” he said, the same moment Brougham jumped in with, “Let’s not talk about that right now.”

I looked between them, my mouth hanging open. “What?What happened?”

“Brougham got drunk and punched Jack Miller.”

“I didnot,” Brougham said calmly. “It was before I got drunk.”

I’d never heard of this Jack Miller before. “Are you serious? What happened?”

Finn answered. “Well, that’s the great mystery. He won’ttell us why, and neither will Jack.”

Stunned, I gave Brougham a questioning look. He met my eyes and stayed passive as he chewed a mouthful of lasagna.

“I’m pretty sure I know what happened,” Finn said.

“Do tell, I’m fascinated,” Brougham said.

“I will. Darcy, tell me if you think I’m hot or cold. Winona and Jack have been carrying on a star-crossed love affair for months now, and they weren’t able to commit because their parents work at rival bookstores. An indie and a big chain.”

“Presumably, they’re the children of Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks,” Brougham said dryly. Finn looked blank: the reference obviously didn’t hit. “Also, you know Winona’s mum works in a bank. Why don’t you listen to people?”

“Because I don’t retain boring information. Okay, fine. An indie bank and a big chain bank.”

“An indie bank,” I repeated. “How indie are we talking? Like, someone’s stash of money under their bed?”

“Sure, sounds romantic. Anyway, their parents are rivals and secretly in love themselves, so Winona and Jack weren’t able to consummate their love.”

“And it’s become clear you don’t have thefoggiestwhat ‘consummate’ means,” Brougham added.

“Can you two please stop interrupting? Anyway, Jack, who in this scenario is actually Brougham’s secret half brother—way to keep us in the dark aboutthatone, Brougham”—Brougham’s eyebrows raised almost imperceptibly as he blinked—“ismaddenedwith jealousy that Brougham and Winona are getting back together. He finds Winona at prom and tries to kiss her, and she’s like, ‘No, I cannot, my heart belongs to another’”—here Finn threw an arm over his head for dramatic effect—“and Jack’s like, ‘But you’ll never love him like you loved me,’ and Winona runs off and hides in the bathroom for a chunk of the night, so Brougham hangs out with me. I’m there, by the way. Picture me as the bard of this story.”

“As long as you don’t start singing,” Brougham said.

“You’re no fun at all. Then Winona comes back like nothing happened, and she and Brougham dance, and Jack plots his revenge. Then at the after-party, Jack confronts Brougham and challenges him to a duel for Winona’s heart—”

“Because relationships are transactional,” Brougham said as Finn ignored him.

“—and Brougham wins the duel! And Winona’s all torn and distressed so she runs home and won’t answer her phone. So, Brougham gets shitfaced to numb the pain.”

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