“I’m gonna give Brooke a lift home,” Ray said, but she was smiling. Apology accepted? Hard to tell. She placed a hand gently on Brooke’s shoulder blade, then let it drop.

“Okay. So…” I trailed off.

Brooke held her arms out, and I fell into them.

“I’ll text you,” she said. The most wonderful thing she’d ever said to me.

As Brooke and Ray headed off, Brougham steered me to the pool. “Let’s just chill for a minute,” he said.

We were both wearing shorts, so it was easy enough for us to kick off our shoes and sit on the edge of the pool side by side, with our legs in the water. His pool had soaked up the heat from the day, and it was almost warm. The perfect temperature for the evening. I wish I’d thought to bring my swimsuit.

“I got you something,” Brougham said. “For your birthday.”

I looked up, surprised. “I thought all of this was for my birthday?”

“Nah. That was for them. This is for you.” He fished an envelope from his pocket, and for a wild, irrational moment I thought it was a locker letter.

Inside the envelope was a piece of paper. I unfolded it and smoothed out the creases. It was a printout of a ticket.

ORIELLA ORATES VIP PASS

209 SLATER BLVD, SANTA MONICA, CA 90408

ADMIT: 2

I stared at the ticket in disbelief while Brougham spoke quickly beside me. “I know how much you love her, and I was checking out her videos and saw she’s coming, and I asked Ainsley and she said you didn’t have tickets so it was kind of perfect. And I got two so you wouldn’t have to go alone, but you can take whoever you want. And if you can’t find anyone I’ll totally come with you, like, I don’t want you to be alone, and it’d probably be interesting, but I didn’t get you two tickets so you’d have to take me. Just to clarify.”

This.

Would’ve cost.

So much money.

Too much money for a friend’s gift. Did Brougham realize that? Or did rich kids just not grasp the implications of spending a fortune on someone?

A warm breeze picked up, blowing my hair into my face. The sunset cast a peachy glow over the pool, the porch columns, our skin. A dragonfly darted past Brougham’s head and skimmed the surface of the pool, dipping down to the water and sending ripples scattering. He was watching me, a little uncertainly, like he thought I hated it or something.

It wasn’t that.

It was just …

“Brougham?” I asked, still grasping the ticket in both hands. “Does Winona, um … know, we’re friends?”

Brougham looked confused. “What are you on about?”