At least he let me lead the way to my own bedroom. Once we had the door closed, I felt a little calmer. The rest of the house had its fair share of mess, thanks to Mom and Ainsley, but at least my room was neat. It felt like Brougham had less to judge in here.

I pointed at my desk chair. “You can sit there.”

He obeyed, rested one arm on the desk, crossed one leg over the other, and put on a pair of dark brown, square-rimmed reading glasses that probably cost more than Ainsley’s car. They suited his face shape perfectly, somehow softening the sharp edges of his jaw and cheekbones, and the straight line of his eyebrows. He flipped open the notebook. “A literal miracle worker?” he asked, looking at the title page.

I leaned over him to pick a Sharpie. This close to him, I could smell his cologne, a heady combination of musk and something sweet. Not nearly as nice as Brooke’s perfume. “Yes.”

“There’s so many sparkles.”

I cleared my throat. “Yup. Okay. So, step one: your personality.”

Brougham sputtered. “Pardon?”

“You”—I pointed at his chest—“need to stop being so serious. I don’t mean to sound like a random man on the street, but you should smile more. If you smiled, like, ever, you might make the person you’re talking to feel warm and comfortable. Which some people report to be nice, when on a date.”

Brougham was blinking quite rapidly. “She did date me once.”

“Yeah, and then she dumped you.” Well, now we had a real emotion on his face. Acidic loathing, to be precise. “So, let’s practice making Winona feel warm and comfortable. Go on, tell a joke, I’ll show you.”

“I like my dignity.”

“Come on, a knock-knock joke or something, it doesn’t have to be good.”

“Ah, no. No, thank you.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll tell the joke, and you pretend I’m Winona.”

“My imagination isn’t vivid enough for that feat.”

“Fuck you and try!”

A stony glare, then a slight head dip that was apparently a go-ahead.

“Brougham, what’s a pirate’s favorite letter?”

He stared at me. “You’re not serious?”

“I’m not feeling very charmed right now, Brougham, so play along, would you?”

He let out a sigh sufficiently loud and long enough to let me know just how he felt about this exercise, then rolled his eyes and offered, “R?”

I hopped on the spot and clapped my hands. “Ahh, you’d think so, but his true love be the C!” My pirate voice was good enough to be on Nickelodeon voice-overs.

Brougham blinked and scrunched his mouth up in a pitying sort of way. He didn’t laugh even a little bit.

“Like, ‘sea,’” I said.

“Oh, don’t worry, I got it.”

“Brougham! You’re not even trying.”