Page 115 of The Statistically Unlikely Reunion

It was an ongoing joke, that I always went out of my way to buy the partially damaged item, which made no sense given how few things I could actually afford. Maybe it was nothing but rebellion against my father’s insistence on everything being the best.

“Perhaps.”

I watch curiously as a larger cat walks over to where Lucas is sitting and waves his tail directly in Lucas’s face before plopping down next to him: You may pet me now.

“Did you grow out of your allergies?”

“Allergy shots for the past two and a half years.”

I swallow and continue stroking my elderly cat with a hand that’s now shaking. “Did you . . . want a cat?”

He meets my eyes before replying, “You’ve always wanted them.”

“You can’t have known you wanted to get back together as far back as two and a half years ago.”

“You’re right.” Lucas looks down. “I’ve known for far longer than that.”

The breath I suck in is painful. My voice wounded. “You haven’t dated?” Lucas was almost never pictured with the same woman twice, and then only at large functions where it wasn’t possible to tell whether it was a date or a business meeting.

He tilts his head, another lock of hair falling over his forehead. “I spent two years working nonstop, trying to distract myself. Half a year trying to date, to prove to myself I could.” He shrugs. “Turns out, I couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Didn’t want to.”

We’re alone in a corner of the sanctuary, and the way the sandalwoods and koas are shading us, the way the breeze is passing over us, the sunlight granting us a halo. It feels like we’re completely alone, isolated from the other cats and visitors. “Two and a half years ago, I was still engaged. You got allergy shots to build immunity to cats even though I wasn’t . . . available?”

“I’m not saying it was logical. What’s that philosopher you made me read? With the quote?”

Amazingly, I know exactly what Lucas is referring to. “Reason is, and ought only to be the slave of the passions.” I swallow. “David Hume.”

He keeps his gaze averted from mine, but I can see the small smile lurking.

“You didn’t forget the name or the quote.”

“Not even a little.” He looks at me finally, hazel gaze indecipherable. I can see how he must be better at poker now, must be better at hiding all sorts of things. “It’s been my guiding principle these past few years. Together or not, you’re my endgame.”

40

TOE PICK ON THREE

BEFORE

Because traveling to ICPC worlds is inherently tension-filled and anxiety-inducing, and because he’s still recovering from pitch meetings and the associated follow-up emails and mini Zoom sessions, Lucas doesn’t notice that I’m quieter than usual.

We grin and bear it as Brody uses our only free night to drag us to Azerbaijan’s apparently famous Shamakhi Astrophysical Observatory via the taxi driver from hell. Then we smile through the opening ceremony festivities, which always includes cultural presentations from the host country—drum and dance shows, local officials who come and welcome us. All three of us shake hands with the ever-present recruiters, many of whom have sponsored the event, but our hearts aren’t in it. Lucas is committed to his startup, meaning these will be his future competitors. Brody has just taken the LSAT and is knee-deep in actual applications. And I . . . will be indentured to my father in a way I won’t easily be able to buy my way out of.

“We should try to have fun with this,” I say.

Brody pretends to look offended. He’s been too obviously gentle around me, and I’m worried Lucas will begin to suspect. His eyes are tired, but his tone is light. “I’m always having fun. I’m a funness distribution machine.”

I roll my eyes because it’s what Lucas would expect. “I just mean, this might be our last time really programming together. Given how busy we’re all about to be, who knows when we’ll really see each other again like this.”

“You can keep recommending books in our group chat.”

“The recommendations you ignore?”

“One, your scary boy toy Lucas reads enough for me and him combined. Two, sometimes, and I don’t want to oversell, but sometimes, I look up the synopsis.”

I laugh and it sounds almost genuine, even to my own ears. “Let’s kick some ass.” I pause long enough to place a hand on each of their shoulders, a stretch for me considering how much taller they both are. “Because I’m in the mood to kick a little ass.”

Brody groans. “The Cutting Edge again, really?”