Harper's third-grade teacher had once told her that the most famous photograph in the world was by a French photographer named Henri Cartier-Bresson.

It was called "Man Jumping The Puddle," Mrs. Gates explained. In the black-and-white picture, a man leaps over a pool of water behind the Saint-Lazare train station in Paris. He's suspended above the water, his foot just about touching it. "The photograph," her teacher had explained, "is the first example of a decisive moment. A fleeting second, captured by the photographer before it's gone forever."

Harper hadn't really understood what Mrs. Gates had meant at the time. She'd been nine, and more interested in Webkinz than dusty old photographs.

But now, she finally got it.

There was one second — just one second — where Griffin still didn't know. Where Harper could have snapped a photograph of his face. Immortalized the pleasant confusion, the slightly bemused tilt of his head.

And then the foot landed.

"You didn't know?" Jake asked. "Hale and your sister came to the wedding together."

Griffin shook his head. "No."

"Yeah." Jake frowned, turning to face Lawson and Harper. "Wait, I'm so confused. Aren't you two dating?"

Her throat felt dry. "Well, that's not— I didn't exactly say that I was—"

"What's going on?" Griffin's voice was sharp. "Are you two here together?"

He already knew the answer. Griffin had never been very good at hiding his emotions; it was written all over his face. Still, Harper thought, she could save it.

"No," Harper said. "I lied to you before, Jake. I'm not dating anyone." Her cheeks were burning, but she pushed on. "I'm still single. I have been, since we broke up; I was just too embarrassed to admit it."

Beside her, Lawson shifted. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking without looking at his face. Was he surprised? Proud? Disappointed? The cold night air continued to drizzle, sending icy fingernails down her back.

Jake's frown deepened. "So you're not dating Hale?"

"No," Harper said.

"Really?"

A strangled laugh lodged somewhere in her throat. "I think I'd know."

"That's strange, because I was sure..." Jake clicked his fingers, his expression clearing. "No, I remember why I believed you. Because I saw you together at the garden party. In the hedge maze, right?"

A fresh wave of horror hit her.

Harper closed her eyes. She sent out a silent prayer for a hole to open in the ground. A thunderbolt to hit the tent. Duct tape to miraculously appear over Jake's mouth. Anything to stop the oncoming trainwreck.

When Griffin spoke, his voice was dangerously quiet. "What were they doing in the maze?"

Jake shrugged. "Making out."

"You must have mixed them up with someone else."

"No, it was definitely them," Jake said. "I realized it as soon as Harper told me they were going to the wedding together. They were rolling around in the hedges." He winked at Lawson. "Which, you know. Mad respect."

Griffin turned to Lawson. "Tell Parker he's wrong."

"Griffin..."

"Tell him." His voice was flat.

Lawson was silent. There was a muscle jumping in his jaw, and his hands shook. Not enough that anyone else would have noticed, but Harper did; she'd learned to watch for it. Griffin took a deep breath.

"I'm such an idiot," Griffin said. "The time Harper went into your room. Your jacket in her room." He laughed, but it sounded hollow. "I bet you both had a good laugh about it, didn't you? You must think I'm the biggest gobshite on the planet."

Her eyes burned. "I've never said that about you. Never."

Griffin looked away. "Just tell me this. Did you sleep together?"

Lawson flinched. "Pembrooke—"

"Did you?"

"Griffin!" Harper stepped forward, alarmed. "Stop it."

Her stepbrother ignored her. "Look me in the eye and tell me the goddamn truth, Hale, or I swear I'll break your fucking face."

There was a beat.

"Yes," Lawson said. "Yes, we slept together."

Griffin punched him. There was a sickening crack as his fist collided with Lawson's jaw, and then two bodies hit the slippery grass. Someone screamed. Harper thought it might have been her. They tumbled over and over, a blur of suit jackets and fists, and then Griffin was on top, grass littering his red hair.

He hit him again.

Again.

Lawson didn't move. His hands were palm-up, resting at his sides, his green eyes reflecting the night sky. Get up, Harper begged him silently. Get up, get up. But she knew it was useless; Lawson would never hit Griffin. Not even to defend himself.

"Pembrooke!" a voice hollered.

Three figures sprinted across the grass. Haz and Alisdair were at the front, Jake just slightly behind them, and it took Harper a moment to realize that he must have gone to fetch them. How much time had passed? She couldn't have said. Everything felt surreal.

"Stop!" Alisdair barked.

He flung his arms around Griffin, hauling him to his feet. Griffin went without a fight. He was staring down at his hands — bloodied, bruised, throbbing — in wonder, as if he couldn't believe that he was attached to them.

Griffin swallowed. "Did you hear—?"

"We heard," Haz said.

"Fuck you," Griffin said, but he sounded tired. "Fuck you, Hale. I should have known this would happen."

"In his defense, Pembrooke," Alisdair said gently, "I think it was an accident at first."

Too late, Alisdair seemed to realize his mistake. Griffin twisted around in his grip so quickly that both boys stumbled.

"You knew?" Griffin demanded.

For once, Alisdair was inarticulate. "Well, I didn't exactly— I wouldn't say—"

"Let go of me," Griffin snapped, shaking him off. "You're as bad as he is. You all knew, and you lied to my face about it."

"For the record," Haz said, raising a hand, "I didn't know. Just putting that out there."

Griffin turned to Harper. "He'll break your heart." His voice was monotone. "He just can't help himself."

Harper felt the words like a slap. The night air sliced through her like a knife, and she shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. She suddenly hated her lovely golden dress. Hated these stupid heels. Tears burned in her eyes, and she dug her fingernails so hard into her palms that it hurt. I won't cry, she told herself. I won't cry, I won't cry—

"You know nothing about it," Lawson said. "You can have a go at me, Pembrooke." His voice was low. Furious. "But don't speak to Harper like that."

Griffin stiffened. "I'll speak to her however I want."

"Not in front of me."

"She's my sister."

Lawson took a step forward. "And she's my—"

He broke off. Griffin's smile was uncharacteristically bitter.

"Your what?" Griffin asked. "What is she to you, Hale?" Lawson was silent, and Griffin's smile faded. "That's what I thought."

Her stepbrother rubbed a hand over his eyes. The fight was already draining out of him, Harper observed; Griffin could never stay mad for long. He was analyzing the situation now, turning it over in his hands like a piece of broken metal. Trying to figure out how to fix it.

"I'm sorry," Lawson said quietly. "I'm really fucking sorry, Griff."

Griffin looked away. "All this time, I had your back. When you did something stupid, I defended you. When you drank too much, I came to get you. You've had a shit time of it, so I let you do whatever the hell you wanted. But this?" He shook his head. "This is too far."

Lawson looked stricken. "Griffin..."

"Lawson."

Harper touched his arm lightly, half-expecting Lawson to jump. He seemed to have forgotten that she was there, and Harper didn't blame him. But Lawson just turned to look at her, his green eyes steady, as if he'd known exactly where she was standing this whole time. As if he could never forget.

"Let's get you cleaned up, okay?" she murmured.

Lawson held her gaze. Harper squeezed his arm, trying to convey her thoughts: let's give Griffin some time to cool off. He nodded.

Harper turned. "I'll come find you later, Griff."

"Not tonight," Griffin said.

Her stepbrother sounded tired. Wrung-out. Harper bit her lip, watching as he limped back towards Huntingdon Estate.

But she didn't try to stop him.

A/N: Hello lovely readers,

Happy Thursday! I can't believe it's mid-March already — time is just flying at the moment. Anyone else feel like it should still be early February?

Question of the Day: what's your dream destination to visit? I have a long bucketlist, but my absolute must-see is New Zealand!

Affectionately,

J.K.