There was a reason for the spider, of course. One of the first things I’d learned in my studies: fear and adrenaline remarkably mimic the sensation of falling for someone. Always go to a horror movie on a first date, if possible.

Spiders work, too.

After bringing Brougham’s dad his portion as promised, Brougham and I perched ourselves by the window again, far enough back that we wouldn’t be noticed staring, and ate our own servings.

“They look a lot happier than they did,” Brougham remarked with a full mouth.

“Ninety-five percent success rate,” I replied.

“Touché.”

“Speaking of, how’s Winona doing?”

Brougham looked surprised by the question. But I’d said it as casually as possible. Sure, we hadn’t spoken about her much, but she wasn’t entirely off-limits, right? “She’s fine, I guess. Seemed happy enough the last time we spoke.”

“Well that’s a glowing endorsement,” I said.

“I don’t know what you expected. I mean, does she have to be thrilled?”

“Um, ideally?”

Brougham snorted. “That’s a very rosy outlook. I don’t know how realistic it is, though.”

That. Made my heart break a little. And it took every ounce of strength, every little bit of self-control in my body not to interfere. If anyone had written into the locker describing their relationship so ambivalently I would’ve told them something seemed very wrong. Especially so early into its revival. Brougham deserved someone who was fucking psyched to be with him, and if that wasn’t Winona—

If that wasn’t Winona, that was his business. It wasn’t my place.

“Can I just check you’re okay?” I asked.

Brougham put his finished plate down and stood up. He wasn’t smiling, but there was nothing concerning in his expression. “Darcy, I have never been better. Honestly. Thanks for your concern, though.”

Well, that had to be that.

Anyway. There was no time to dwell on it, because it was time for the second movie.

TWENTY-TWO

Ainsley’s face was projected on the screen again. This time, she wore a red velvet dressing gown and a flower crown prop she kept for her videos. “Hello! Ho, ho, ho! I am the ghost of relationships present!”

“Does she think that’s Santa?” Brougham murmured. “Does she know they’re different?”

“The past is something that we cannot chaaannggeee, ho, ho, ho!”

“Well, now she’s just smashed them all together and made something new and horrifying,” Brougham said. I shushed him.

“We’re not obligated to forgive the paaassstttt, but sometimes we get so focused on it, we fail to see the present, woooooOOOO! WOOOOO!” Ainsley leaned forward and belted this into the camera, eyes wild.

Brooke was laughing so hard her forehead was pressed against the table. Ray shuffled away from the screen a little, as though she was worried Ainsley would climb out and shout in her face.