“It sucks!” I spat it out, all the poison I was feeling about being dragged away from Brooke today, and about Ray swooping in, and about my utter inability to fix my own love life.

“It sucks,” Brougham echoed, a little more loudly this time.

“IT SUCKS!” I shouted, getting to my feet to make a point. The carriage chose that moment to tip and slide down to the end, and I screamed bloody murder. “OH MY GOD, NO, HELP,” I yelled, gripping onto the bars near the door. My body was thrown against my seat, and I toppled backward so I was splayed awkwardly across the bench. I’d almost certainly bruised a butt cheek, and maybe also a spot on my back that’d crashed into the back of the carriage.

“Hey!” Brougham rose up with his hands outstretched, his face stricken, but I waved him off, laughing so hard I fell off my seat and onto the floor with my knees up as the carriage swung violently back and forth. “IT SUCKS,” I shouted again, this time directing my yelling at the ceiling.

Brougham sat back down and shook his head at me, then, amazingly, cracked a smile. A real, actual smile, honest to god. I felt like I was probably the first person to ever witness this. I couldn’t have been more amazed if it were my own kid taking their first steps. “It sucks,” Brougham cried, halfway to a yell.

“Louder.”

“IT. SUCKS.” He slapped both hands down on the bench he sat on, and I applauded, still on the floor.

“You know what else sucks?” I asked.

Brougham stuck out a hand and helped me back onto my seat. “What?”

My laughter trickled into a drip, and my voice came out tinny. “I’m in love with my best friend. And she’s got a new girlfriend.”

“Wait, Brooke?”

I nodded.

“Shit, Phillips, that does suck. We’re as screwed as each other.”

I laughed despite myself. “Nah, you’re less screwed. You have me, and we’re not done yet. How about—”

“Actually, I need some time to think.”

My first reaction was surprise. Then it shifted into something more akin to offense. What, one strike and I was out? Hadn’t I said they’d need to be friends first? Did he think I wasn’t worth the money just because they weren’t passionately kissing on the Mickey Wheel right now?

Worse than that, worse than him feeling that way, was the fearful little voice in the back of my mind whispering he’s right. I had failed. I was no Coach Pris, no Oriella.