Page 91 of Perfect on Paper

“We were talking in a group and it came up, and he was drunk, and angry, and it got a bit personal.”

“Personal about me or you?”

“… You. Like I said, he was drunk and angry. And it doesn’t matter what he was saying, but it wasn’t… polite. I told him to shut up, and he kept going, and I saw red.” Brougham stared at the ground. His cheeks were gently coloring. “I’ve never hit anyone before. I didn’t even mean to, it’s like my hand acted without permission from my brain.”

This. Was a lot to take in. So…I’dbeen the unwitting damsel in distress? “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s embarrassing. I don’t want to be the sort of person who goes around punching people. I’ve just never beenmadlike that before.”

I couldn’t help it. I was flattered, and a little touched, even if I hated the idea of being any sort of distressed damsel with a fiery passion. “You were defending your coach’s honor.” I grinned. “That’s kind of cute.”

“It’s not.”

“A little. I bet you’d do the same if someone started trashing your swim club coach.”

“I—maybe. I dunno. I hope not.”

I giggled. I couldn’t help it—he looked like a puppy who’d been caught tearing apart a couch cushion. Even though this was serious, and Igothow weird he felt about violence, especially with the stuff he saw at home, it was hard not to be charmed by someone who’d stepped in to defend me when I wasn’t there to defend myself, then had the decency to look so goddamncontriteabout it. “Well, it’s done. Probably not thebestmove, but just… try not to do it again.”

He kept his eyes fixed on the floor, pressing his lips together.

“And,” I said, bending down so I could look him in the eye. “Thank you. That was really sweet of you, in a violent, assault-y sort of way.”

He tipped his chin grudgingly. “You’re welcome. And I promise I’ll never give anyone a black eye on your behalf again.”

“Yeah, you probably didn’t need to hit him so hard. Or, you know, at all.”

“I have weight training three afternoons a week. Apparently I’ve got some force behind these things,” he said, swinging his arm back and forth.

Whether Winona was put off by the punch, or she knew it was related to me and felt weird about it, or whether she went home early for an entirely different reason, who could say. Mind you…shouldshe feel weird about it? Was it weird for him to defend my honor like that? Should I be wondering what it meant that he had?

No, I decided, a little deflated at the realization. Brougham had said he was in a good place, so whatever had gone down obviously worked out for the best. If there’d been anything more to it, there’s no way he’d be so calm and certain about things with Winona.

So, I was happy for him, and his newfound ability to navigate relationship weirdness.

Mostly.

Mom, Ainsley, and I sat in the living room, Mom and Ainsley on the sofa, me curled in an armchair, all three of us staring at my phone.

“I can’t do it with you guys looking at me,” I said.

Mom and Ainsley glanced at each other.

“I’ve got a design I can do, I guess,” Ainsley said reluctantly, getting to her feet.

Mom took her laptop from its place on the coffee table. “I’m not even here. Just reading some assignments.”

“But you’re very obviously here, is all.”

“You said I don’t have time for you, now you’re trying to send me away. Which is it?”

Huh. I was surprised to hear her bring this up. We’d had a tentative truce since she returned from her school trip, and neither of us had mentioned our blowup in the car last week.

“I want to help,” Mom pressed.

Okay. Fine. “I’m scared to call.”

“She’s been your best friend for how many years now, Darc? She won’t bite you.”

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