Page 53 of Perfect on Paper

But Brougham didn’t need to speak to be heard. He just had to pass me his phone.

On the screen was a picture of his mom in a bikini, on a beach. It was a selfie, taken by the man sitting next to her in the photo. He had brown skin, deep dimples, and thick eyebrows. He had his arm around Brougham’s mom, his fingers curling around her waist. It wasn’t a platonic pose.

The rain lowered to merely a monsoon, and Brougham leaned over so he could view the screen with me. “This is the guy Mum’s cheating with right now,” he said. “There’s been a few.”

Shit. “Oh no. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be, I’m not looking for sympathy. It’s just relevant.” He shoved the phone in his pocket. “Don’t just blame her, either. It’s like a chicken-egg thing. Dad’s an asshole to her, she drinks to deal with it, drinking makes her horrible, too, they blow up, she cheats on him and doesn’t even try to be subtle about it, he finds out, they blow up more. It’s been like this for years.”

“That’s awful.”

His face was blank. “I’m used to it. But that’s what was happening when I had you over. He came to visit Mum, and Dad came home. He does that sometimes, to try to catch her doing something wrong.”

“She doesn’t try to hide it?”

“Nope.” At this, he actually smiled. But it was cold and humorless. His eyes were devoid of any light. “Maybe she wants him to crack and ask for a divorce. Maybe she wants him to get jealous and act better. Who the hell even knows?”

Coach Pris Plumber probably would, a voice piped up in the back of my mind, but I decided not to bring that up. It seemed rhetorical.

“Anyway,” he went on, “they were about to kick off, so I got you out as quick as I could.”

Holy shit. I was an absolute idiot. How had I bought his weak excuse that easily? I guessed him being needlessly cruel fit the narrative I’d created for him, so I hadn’t questioned it like I should’ve. That, and I’d gotten so fixated on Brougham criticizing my skills that all reason had gone out the window.

Huh. There was a mild possibility I had an issue with taking criticism.

I felt a wave of shame for how annoyed I’d been that afternoon. “Why didn’t you tell me that’s why you wanted me out?”

“Because it’s embarrassing. Plus, I thought it was sort of obvious?”

Touché. “Fair enough. But, like, I wouldn’t judge you. Just so you know. My parents had a really messy divorce. I get how much it sucks.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean it wasmessymessy. They’re pretty good with each other now, but it was about two years of arguingall nightevery night before the divorce. Then after it, they’d argue over Ainsley and me. If they weren’t mad because one of them wanted us for an event and the other wouldn’t switch weekends, they were mad because one of them wanted tolose usfor the weekend so they could do something and the other wouldn’t take us. It was like they each just figured out whatever the other one wanted, then refused to give it. And the whole time Ainsley and I were bargaining chips. Like the only cards Mom and Dad had left to hurt each other, and they were gonna fuckinguse those cards, you know?”

Brougham’s face was solemn. “That’s fucked.”

“It was. But it was also years ago. It’s been pretty good for a while.”

“I’m glad.” He paused thoughtfully. “Sometimes I wish they would just get divorced, but I don’t know if it’d make it any better. Mostly, I’m just glad I’m heading to college this year.”

“Do you know where you’re going?”

He nodded. “UCLA.”

Oh, that wasn’t far at all. I’d half-expected him to say he was heading back to Australia. Or at least the East Coast. For someone who wanted to escape his parents, he wasn’t running very far. “Fancy.”

“In some ways I probably have Mum and Dad to thank for it,” he went on. “Outside of the whole finances thing, I mean. I used to swim a lot when I was younger because it got me out of the house, but it’s more than that now. I like how predictable it is. You put in effort, and you get results. If you train, you improve. And then I joined a school teamwhen I was younger and found out I was reallygoodat it. Plus, it’s nice to feel useful.”

I got it. After seeing the way his mom looked at him, I completely understood the appeal of performing well and impressing a coach, and his teammates.

Everyone wanted to feel like they were worthwhile at the end of the day.

There was a lull in the conversation, and Brougham excused himself to go to the bathroom. Part of me suspected he didn’t feel comfortable sitting in that vulnerability, but I didn’t call him out on it.

I pulled out my phone to check it as the waitress brought over our coffees. I had one message waiting from Brooke already.

My life is a black hole.

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