He held eye contact with me, and I felt like maybe I should be waving, or something? But what if Finn noticed, and asked how we knew each other? And then what if Brougham told him, and Finn told literally everyone he’d ever met, and then my whole life fell apart?

I didn’t wave. Neither did Brougham.

My stare was ripped away from him when someone threw their arms around me from behind, and Brooke’s musky vanilla perfume filled my vicinity. She swung me from side to side, chanting my name.

“Yes?” I laughed, wriggling out of her grip, and turned to face her. She looked especially magnetic today, with her long, dark hair falling in loose waves, a swipe of eyeliner, and a mischievous sparkle in her deep brown eyes. My stomach kicked up, and a grin spread as wide as my cheeks would allow. She hadn’t needed to touch me, but she had. Did that mean something? Had she wanted to hug me as much as I wanted to hug her?

“So,” she said, tipping her head and tapping one foot behind the other in the way she did whenever she had a favor to ask.

“So?” I folded my arms and leaned against the wall. She stepped in to keep the space between us close, and a mixture of hope and delight jolted through me like a shock. Everything in my periphery had vanished at that point, so the only thing that existed was Brooke.

“So, I know I was crappy and insulted your essay-writing abilities,” she said. I could feel her body heat.

“Correct, it was very hurtful. I’ve been crying myself to sleep every night since.”

“Right, super sorry about that. Anyway, I’m desperate, for real. Is it too late to take you up on your offer to help?”

Wow. If Brooke was admitting defeat—or at least, impending defeat—she must be seriously struggling. My mouth was open to say “of course I’ll help” before she’d even finished her sentence, then I remembered I couldn’t. Brougham and I had agreed to take two tonight, after he finished dryland training. I mean, I could cancel, but my parents had raised me to consider bailing on someone at the last minute pretty damn rude.

The problem was, I couldn’t exactly tell Brooke what my plans were tonight.

“Um, I, well … I’m busy,” I said weakly.

Brooke’s face fell, and everything shattered. Fuck Brougham, fuck Brougham, fucking, fucking fuck Brougham. “Oh,” she said.

“I promised Ains I’d help her with a video.”

I’d just lied to Brooke. I didn’t need to lie. I could’ve left it at “I’m busy.” But just saying I was busy felt like a blow off, and I couldn’t stand it if Brooke thought I didn’t want to see her, when that couldn’t be further from the truth.