Page 82 of Perfect on Paper

“Ah. The stories will start coming out on Monday. Let me know if they involve anyone I might know.”

I wondered how Brooke was feeling, seeing these photos of Ray. I wished I could comfort her. I wished even more that I’d never hurt them.

Then, amazingly, my phone started vibrating with a call, and I scrambled to answer it. Brooke? I didn’t care what she was calling for, to yell at me, or to cry to me, as long as she spoke to me.

But it was Finn. Ainsley paused the movie while I answered.

“It’s Brougham,” said Finn as soon as he heard my voice.

I shot up so quickly I pulled a muscle in my neck. “What happened?”

“Some shit went down over here, I’ll tell you later, but long story short he’s really wasted.”

“Broughamis?”

“I’ve never seen him like this. I’m scared what his parents might do if he goes home right now.”

Furniture thrown. Insults hurled. Doors slammed and threats screamed. And that’s just what I’d witnessed.

No, I didn’t want Brougham going home right now, either. “Where’s Winona?”

“She went home a while ago. She won’t pick up her phone.”

Something bitter and jealous kicked against the inside of my stomach at the realization that Finn had called Winona to come for Brougham first, as ridiculous as that was. And then a hurt, mean part of me piped up that I should tell Finn to keep trying Winona. Say that Alexander Broughamwas not my responsibility. He had chosen Winona, after all, so who exactly was I to him?

But it was Brougham.

It was Brougham, and I would never, ever do that.

“And your mom is on the trip, right? Can you help?”

Honestly, it was never a question. “Ains,” I said. “Can I borrow your car? We have a situation.”

The prom after-party was still well underway, with groups of teenagers spilling out into the front yard, standing around on their phones or taking selfies by the string up in the oak tree, or sitting slumped by the porch. The main party seemed to be in the backyard—I could see heads bobbing over the side fence, and the thudding music seemed to be coming from there, too. The house was secluded, at the end of a dirt road lined by houses on enormous properties filled with horses and goats. I could see why they’d elected to have the party here.

At first I’d offered to go alone, too guilty to ask Ainsley to get dressed and leave the house so late on my account. But when she’d pointed out someone needed to ride alongside Brougham to keep him safe on the ride home, I couldn’t argue. The only caveat Ainsley had was telling Mom what we were doing, but she took the responsibility for that one, so I wouldn’ttechnicallybe breaking my grounding. Not if it wasAinsleywho wanted someone to stay over.

I texted Finn as we pulled up. There was no point entering the lion’s den hoping to pull off a search and rescue mission; we’d just end up chasing each other all over the house.

Now we just had to hope he remembered to check his phone through the haze of alcohol and god-knew-what-else.

“Is that Luke?” Ainsley asked, sitting up straighter in her seat.

I squinted. “Ainsley, that looks literally nothing like him.”

“Well,I don’t know,it’s been a while.”

“It’s been ten months since you left school!”

“Right.” She gave me a grave look. “Ten long months that changed me in ways you couldn’t imagine.”

“Sure thing, Ains.”

“Okay, that’sdefinitelyhim. By the porch.”

This time, she was right. There was Luke, dressed in a rumpled tuxedo, walking—or, rather, stumbling, alongside Finn. Between them, they supported Brougham, who was making a frankly pitiful attempt at walking. His hair was messy and sticking to his forehead with sweat, his eyes were glazed over and unfocused, and his posture gave the overall impression of someone whose bones had inexplicably evaporated. He was wearing a dress shirt that’d once been white but was now stained in a medley of yellows and pinks.

He looked miserable.

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