I nodded and we went to the library, which was empty. It reminded me of Arthur. Brody seemed out of place here. And uncomfortable. His hands were tucked in the back pockets of his jeans and both his amazing hair and heavy winter coat were still dusted with melting snow.

“Mia said you came by the party last night,” he said.

“I did. I’m sorry I didn’t say hi, but you seemed busy.”

His head bobbed. “Yeah, I got pretty wasted. Been pounding pressed juices all morning.” We both nodded; I was familiar with his hangover remedies. “Um, I just wanted to say, you know, I’m real sorry. ’Bout wiggin’ out the other night, at the parade. It was uncool.”

My heart softened. One of Brody’s biggest attributes—besides his looks—was his willingness to own up to his mistakes. He had other good, non-physical qualities, but I think I appreciated this one the most.

“It’s okay,” I said, my smile soothing. “These things are weird.”

“Yeah, I just, you know, didn’t expect to see you with someone else.”

“Back atcha.”

His chin dipped. “Sorry.” he murmured, chagrined. “I shoulda told you ’bout that, too.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry.” I reached out to give his arm a reassuring squeeze. “And Mia really likes you a lot. I can tell.”

“I like her, too.” He cringed. “Hope that’s okay to say.”

“It is. We’re broken up.”

“I kinda always knew I was never supposed to be your guy anyhow. We don’t . . .” He mimed his two hands missing each other. “. . . fit. But, me and Mia, we do.”

He was right, they really did fit. For how long? That was anyone’s guess. But for now, at this point in their lives, they made sense in a way he and I never had and never would.

His gaze dropped as he noticed something. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to my hand.

He had spotted the string and chestnut I had yet to return to my pocket and I laughed, rubbing one eyebrow in embarrassment.

“It’s a conker.” When he looked understandably confused, I explained. “It’s a British game where two people take chestnuts on strings and try to hit their opponent’s as hard as they can.”

“Why?”

A very sound question.

“To break the shell.” I’d done a quick read-up on the rules via my phone last night.

Brody considered this and I could tell his natural competitive side was working out the gist. “What if it doesn’t break?”