The sheer volume of Bryan Stewart's screech forced Grayson to turn his face away from the screen. He could hear other voices in the background now, a jumble of alarmed exclamations.
[You screwed it up?!] Bryan Stewart's voice had gone up at least an octave. [I gave you a thirteen-step guide! With color-coded annotations! Iris and I spent hours curating example videos of successful dates and outfit suggestions! How could you possibly—]
"Let me explain—"
[Did you forget to smile? I told you to practice smiling in the mirror! Did you frown again with that cold face? Because I warned you—]
"Bryan."
[Helena! Helena, get over here! He did exactly what you said he would do!]
The background noise intensified, and Grayson caught fragments of what sounded like multiple people speaking at once.
There was a distant crash. Someone laughing—or possibly crying.
It was hard to tell.
"Bryan." His voice cut through the chaos like a blade. "I didn't screw anything up. Something happened."
