Back Perfect on Paper
Chapters (32)
  1. Copyright Notice
  2. Dedication
  3. ONE
  4. TWO
  5. THREE
  6. FOUR
  7. FIVE
  8. SIX
  9. SEVEN
  10. EIGHT
  11. NINE
  12. CHAPTER TEN
  13. ELEVEN
  14. TWELVE
  15. THIRTEEN
  16. FOURTEEN
  17. FIFTEEN
  18. SIXTEEN
  19. SEVENTEEN
  20. EIGHTEEN
  21. NINETEEN
  22. TWENTY
  23. TWENTY-ONE
  24. TWENTY-TWO
  25. TWENTY-THREE
  26. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  27. Excerpt: Never Ever Getting Back Together
  28. ONE
  29. TWO
  30. Also by Sophie Gonzales
  31. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  32. Newsletter Sign-up

Finn was standing without noticeable difficulty, but Brougham grasped his upper arm anyway. “All right, come on then, druggie. You can sleep at mine tonight.”

Brooke, Ray, and I followed them, Brooke laughing silently as Brougham steered a very off-balance Finn down the hall toward the living room.

“Give him lots of water, Brougham,” she said through her laughter, trying to clear her throat and get serious.

“Someone check on Hunter and Luke,” Brougham ordered. “I couldn’t find them when I got here.”

Ray nodded, and turned on her heel. It made sense for her to go, I guessed. She was in the same grade as them, after all.

But, most importantly, she was gone. And I might not have another opportunity to speak to Brooke in person without her hovering. It was now or never.

“Hey,” I said to Brooke. “Can we go in the backyard or something for a sec?”

Something wary flashed across Brooke’s face, but she agreed. Brougham seemed to have the Finn situation well under control, so we excused ourselves and headed off. When I looked back over my shoulder—just to make sure Finn hadn’t somehow died in the last two seconds—I found Brougham watching Brooke and me as we retreated.

He held my gaze as I caught his eye. “Thank you,” he mouthed.

It was an uncharacteristic moment of gentleness from him, accompanied with that intense stare of his, the one I’d noticed that afternoon at his house. The one that’d made his eyes seem bluer. Now I felt doubly bad for taking a dig at him earlier.

Outside on Alexei’s patio, the music was reduced to a muffled thumping. Brooke and I sat on decorative wrought-iron dining chairs on either side of a matching counter table. String lights wrapped around the patio fence in a weaving pattern, glittering on and off.

I fought the sudden urge to skip having an uncomfortable conversation and propose an Instagram photoshoot instead, so we could be happy and have fun and I wouldn’t risk pushing her away.

“What’s up?” Brooke asked, and, well, here went nothing.

“I miss you.”

She broke into a grin. “What do you mean? I’m right here.”

“I know you are, now. But come on. When’s the last time we hung out, Brooke?”

“We got ready together today!”

“Alone.”

She gave me a look that quite plainly said: Are you serious right now? “Come on, I don’t know. Like, the other day when I came over and we helped Ainsley hem that dress?”

“That was weeks ago.”

At this she sighed at me, and I shrank into myself as my chest clenched. She’d never sighed at me before. To me, to make fun of someone else, maybe. But this? This was disdain, directed right at me, not even tempered by a soft smile. “I’ve been busy, I’m sorry.”

“You’re not too busy to see Ray.”